Page 35

The shortage of bedchambers at Quail Hollow was an issue, but perhaps other rooms might be converted into temporary chambers. She searched the archives of her memory, trying to recall the house’s floor plan.

At best, her recollection was fuzzy. An absence of many years contributed to the uncertainty. Besides, she’d only ever been in Madeline’s bedchamber on the upper floor and the drawing room, dining room, and kitchens on the lower.

According to Kingston, Paxton and Gareth already shared a room. If she could convince two of the sisters to do so as well, then there would be sufficient bedchambers until a new wing could be built. She meant to see the addition accomplished before the annulment commenced.

Soon, the grounds would be bustling with all manner of craftsmen as well as wagons delivering supplies.

“Welcome to Quail Hollow House, Vanessa,” Kingston said gravely, a note of pride in his voice despite the house's raggedy appearance. He didn’t apologize for the dilapidated condition, and her heart turned over with approval and compassion.

“I have so many wonderful memories of time spent here as a child,” Vanessa said, deciding truth was the best response.

The place looked tired and worn, but the bones of the building were sturdy, and the clean windows sparkled cheerily despite the disrepair. Several shutters hung askew, and vines snaked up the front of the house.

The structure looked sound enough except for a few missing chimney bricks. The setting sun cast burnished and golden hues over the aged stones, giving it a quaint, romantic ambiance.

How well she recollected the tidy gardens and the studiously cared for lawns that once graced the expansive grounds. She’d romped there often enough with Madeline, and the two of them had tagged after their adored older brothers, who spent a great deal of time in what now appeared to be empty stables.

As she visually inspected the house, two gray-brown mice scurried from beneath a pile of wood stacked haphazardly near the front entrance.

Kingston stiffened, and his breathing hitched, revealing he’d spied the tiny trespassers too.

How far the Barclays’ circumstances had fallen, but Vanessa knew better than to reveal pity or empathy.

Kingston’s bruised pride couldn’t take another blow.

Once more, Vanessa’s attention drifted toward Helmstead. Residing there might be advisable during the renovation at Quail Hollow, truth be told.

She and Kingston had taken but three steps before the black, paint-chipped entrance door flew open, and a parade of his exuberant, laughing siblings burst forth.

“Kingston,” a lanky lad exclaimed, rushing forward, followed by a more somber teenager and his three grinning sisters.

Kingston dropped his hand from Vanessa’s elbow as his family surrounded him, hugging, kissing, laughing, and bombarding him with questions.

After a few moments, Madeline centered her focus on Vanessa. Her eyes went round, and a smile wreathed her face. “Vanessa Becket?”

Astonishment pitched her voice high on the last syllable.

That drew her siblings’ avid attention.

She slung her brother a puzzled glance before returning her attention to Vanessa, her blue eyes brimming with questions. “What in the world?”

Now, all five of his brothers and sisters openly gaped at Vanessa. She felt somewhat like an oddity on display at a country fair. Nonetheless, she summoned a genuine smile.

The family resemblance was unmistakable. All possessed blond hair and blue eyes, though Gareth’s and Dorena’s hair was almost light brown, while Madeline’s was the shade of ripe wheat. Her eyes were also a darker blue, as were Paxton’s.

Five pairs of eyes fixed on Vanessa, keen curiosity skating across their too-lean features as they considered her.

Kingston cleared his throat and tipped up one side of his mouth. “Madeline, I see you remember Vanessa.”

“I do too,” Rebecca piped in, a flush turning her cheeks rosy. “Though, I confess not well.”

“Well, I don’t,” grumbled Dorena, planting her hands on her hips and looking between Vanessa and Kingston, suspicion narrowing her cornflower-blue gaze.

A slight breeze teased the worn hem of her outdated gown and ruffled her brothers’ too-long hair. Wearing trousers several inches too short, the boys shifted their scuffed-boot-shod feet, casting their attention to the ground as their ears turned raspberry red.

Fine lines bracketing his mouth, Kingston reclaimed her elbow. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife.”