The Viscount and the Virgin by Claire Hadleigh

Author:Claire Hadleigh [Hadleigh, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07Z6Q923H
Published: 2019-10-14T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Back home, Montford rode the estate with Cooper twice daily, ensuring all was sailing along smoothly. There were so many details he wanted just so for when the guests began arriving later in the week. One guest in particular. He paused his horse and took a minute to gaze down the hill at Montford Hall. Under the light of a late afternoon sun, the facade took on a golden glow, mellowing the gray stone. Massive oaks and chestnuts lent a dappled shade to the side terrace and he imagined how Abigail would look lounging on the terrace, her red-gold hair slipping out from under that fetching straw bonnet. He shook his head. Too much to do before her arrival. But that wasn't why he had clamped down on his brain box. Not at all, for he knew if he kept picturing her, the images would shift to his bed, to her naked body under his— Enough!

He spurred his horse on, returning to the Hall only to find chaos still rampant as his mother and sisters had taken charge of the interiors of the Hall. Sagging, moth-eaten draperies had been stripped and discarded, admitting natural light into the shadowy spaces of the main rooms. Parquet floors were being scrubbed and polished, chandeliers cleaned of cobwebs and dust. Rusted armor and ancient portraits of ancestors had been packed and stored up in the attics, to be replaced by delicate landscapes, and each room was now filled with vases of flowers and greenery, giving off soft perfumes that mingled with the fresh scent of beeswax.

Upstairs Montford smiled as he watched his mother and sisters stand quietly in amazement as a team of seamstresses from town scurried about, pinning and tucking yards of soft muslins and silks, creating new gowns for each woman, while piles of colorful ribbons sat on the work tables, waiting to be stitched to bonnets and hems.

But the best was when later in the evening Mariah and Julia came rushing into the library, each clutching a small package to her bosom. "Gabriel, look what has just arrived by special messenger!" Mariah placed the package on his desk and a wave of creamy lace spilled out, so fine and delicate it was as if he held gossamer webs in his hands. He reached inside the box and pulled out a note.

Lord Montford, please accept this lacework as a small gift for your mother and sisters. It was signed by Abigail. He handed the note to his sister who was busy fingering the lace, her face suffused with childlike happiness. He turned aside and stepped over to the window, his heart filled with gratitude to Abigail Prescott. Could he wait another week before she arrived? Why not just grab his horse and ride like the wind to that low, rambling manor house by the lake. He could be there by morning next. But the reality of life here at the Hall demanded he stay. There was still so much to accomplish before the guests started arriving.

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