Page 48 of The Heiress Gets a Duke
The excited voices of his sisters filled the entryway a moment before they both came barreling out of the drawing room to greet him. He was dusty and coated in a layer of grime because he had opted to ride his mount from the station instead of waiting for the carriage to transport his trunk. That did not stop either one of them from throwing themselves into his arms.
“Good afternoon, poppets.” He could not help but smile when he came home to them. They were like a pair of tawny puppies grappling over each other to get to him.
“You are so very late.” Elizabeth admonished him with a proper scowl on her face as she drew back.
“And disgusting!” Louisa wrinkled her nose as she gave him a once-over that clearly found him lacking.
They were very nearly identical with their dark blond hair and blue eyes, coloring that, like him, they had inherited from their mother. The only real difference was that Elizabeth had a faint scar near her mouth from a childhood mischief, and Louisa had a penchant for Cook’s sweets thatgave her cheeks a pleasant fullness. Also, they were not puppies any longer. They had grown into women since he had last seen them months ago.
“It is very charming to have all of my faults recited to me as soon as I come home.”
“Notallof your faults. You have a lot more than two,” Elizabeth said.
Gently tweaking her nose, he asked, “Have they arrived yet?” He glanced over their heads to see his mother standing in the doorway of the drawing room wearing a concerned smile. The room behind her appeared empty.
“No, dear. Their wire indicated they would be on the five o’clock train. What happened to you?”
Evan had planned to travel with his mother the day before to allow plenty of time to meet with the estate manager before the Crenshaws arrived. Clark had sent him a message that had arrived an hour before he had been due to leave with his mother asking for an urgent meeting. The meeting had been well worth the delay, but it meant he had barely arrived in time.
It appeared he only had time for a bath and would not be able to meet them at the station. That was all well and good except for the fact that he was anxious to see August again.
“Clark believes that the men he hired might have found Father’s missing solicitor. I will explain all to you later.” The man had disappeared shortly after Evan had inherited and started asking difficult questions. Perhaps he had been too hasty in terminating his employment.
She nodded, but a crease appeared between her brows. “Do you think it will matter?”
“Perhaps. It is difficult to say without questioning him, but I believe he ran off with good reason. If he’s hiding assets, then we will find them.”
This time her nod was decidedly more confident. “Good. Clark is a respectable man. Should there be anything to find, he will find it. In the meantime”—she glanced pointedly at the pendulum clock that had been in the nook at the turn of the stairs for as long as Evan could remember—“you had best have a bath and get yourself ready. The Crenshawsarrive soon, and ’tis up to us to make a good impression since the house will not.”
Truer words had never been spoken. The ancient house was bloody near to falling down around them. Speaking of which. “Why are you not in your mourning clothes?” he asked his sisters. They were in gowns that had been made for them two years ago. Not only were they hopelessly out of fashion, but they were each at least an inch too short, and artfully folded fichus obscured the poorly fit bodices.
“We were tired of black and gray,” said Louisa. “It has been over a year.”
“Did you expect us to wear mourning the entire visit?” Elizabeth raised a brow.
He sighed. Those were excellent reasons. He actually had no issue with them not wearing mourning clothes, even immediately after their father’s death. The man had hardly been a father to them and had seen them so infrequently that he likely could not have picked them out of a crowded ballroom. The issue was more with the state of their non-mourning clothing. They were in desperate need of entirely new wardrobes. Wardrobes he could not even hope to afford. The ever-present knot in his chest tightened slightly.
“No, we should all be finished with mourning.” The twins perked up, but Mother’s smile was strained. As a widow, she was condemned to wear the black a bit longer to mourn a man none of them particularly missed.
Elizabeth tugged his sleeve. “Did you bring us presents?”
“Of course I did.” Reaching into the outer pocket of his chesterfield, he withdrew two gold paper boxes of chocolate wrapped in white ribbon. “One for each of you.”
They squealed in delight and retreated with their presents back to the drawing room. His mother’s smile turned brighter as she watched their joy. However, the moment they disappeared into the room, she turned back to him and approached, touching his cheek. “Go shave and dress. I had a suit pressed for you. Do you think you can manage without Stewart?”
His valet had been left to follow along with Evan’s trunk. “I think I can dress myself just this once.”
“The girls and I finished our tea, but I can send a tray up for you.”
“No, I can wait for dinner.” He was too anxious for the arrival of their guests to feel hungry. He half expected them to turn away on the drive and refuse to come inside.
His glance struck on his sisters unwrapping their chocolates. They had grown up in the past year, so now they looked like young women playing at being children in their too-small dresses. In the corner beyond them, a water stain extended from the ceiling to halfway down the wall, ruining the wall covering. What devil had possessed him to agree to August’s terms? He could no more allow her to slip through his fingers than he could make himself not want to kiss her. Without her, every one of their estates would be reduced to crumbling hovels with their insides picked clean by vultures. His sisters would have no prospects for their futures, and his own mother would further become a victim of Father’s neglect. His only hope was to marry her.
***
Charrington Manor was nearly as dilapidated as August had feared. It wasn’t crumbling, precisely. The several spires, chimneys, and at least one turret appeared to all be holding themselves erect. However, the ancient stone facade had weathered to various shades of gray, brown, and even black, and ivy covered a good third of the sprawling building. The arching roof was quite Gothic, made even more so by the weather and oxidation, which had given the roof tiles a very unattractive greenish hue. The house looked as if it had begun its life as a castle or perhaps even an abbey but had altered as it had grown over the centuries. No, it was not a ruin, but it was easily only a century away from such a catastrophe if left unchecked. “Oh dear.” Violet’s whisper did not sum up August’s feeling at all. The manor itself would need extensive renovation on the outside alone. A new roof would be exorbitant. She was afraid to see damage the weather had wrought on the inside.
“Well... how medieval.” Mother forced a smile. “It is rather delightful.”
