Someday My Duke Will Come by Christina Britton

Author:Christina Britton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: None
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2021-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

Clara had not visited Swallowhill in nearly fifteen years, not since those days of heartbreak and pain, when all hope had seemed gone. The property had returned a modicum of that hope to her, showing her that, even in ruin, something could still hold grace and beauty. That though something might be cast aside, it still had worth.

She had not imagined how altered the house would be.

The gray stone exterior was chalky from the salt air, pockmarks dotting its surface. Ivy grew wild up its façade, lacing over windows, latching onto downspouts and tearing them from their moorings. Several windowpanes were cracked or broken, the paint peeling from their casements to show the bleached gray wood beneath.

The gardens, however, had received the brunt of time’s heavy hand. The plants grew wild and unkempt, seeming to have swallowed everything in their path. Clara shivered. If the state of the front garden was this grim, what must the back gardens look like? Images of the paths she had walked and found so much solace in rose up in her mind, the overgrown rosebushes and hedges only the more beautiful for their determination to thrive with no one to care for them. Her heart ached at the thought of it all going to ruin.

She should have perhaps visited before now. This place had given her just what she’d needed when she’d been at her lowest, and a horrible guilt filled her that she’d allowed it to be reduced to this.

No, she reminded herself firmly. Swallowhill was not hers to care for.

“Goodness,” Margery said, peering up at the façade. “It’s in worse shape than I expected. Though after it was abandoned for so long, this shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

Phoebe came up beside Clara, linking arms with her. The simple act grounded Clara, and she drew in a shaky breath.

“Is it as you remember, Clara?” her sister asked.

“A bit,” she said vaguely. “Though it’s been some time since I’ve been here.”

“It’s heartbreaking to see what must have been such a beautiful house gone to ruin.” Lenora tucked her hand into the crook of her husband’s arm. “Do you think it will be difficult to renovate?”

“No doubt,” Peter said, his cool blue eyes skimming over the exterior.

Quincy shrugged. “We’ve seen worse.”

“We’ve not seen the interior,” Peter said. “There are broken panes there. It could be in worse shape than the exterior. Especially in this sea air. The moisture and salt will do more damage than any climbing vine could.”

“Then let’s get to it,” Quincy replied with a grin, apparently undaunted by the sad state of the outside and the grim possibilities within. He took the stairs two at a time, sidestepping broken urns, and made his way to the front door. They all followed, crowding close. From this distance the cracked and flaking varnish on the once beautiful door was painfully clear. But the fan-shaped window that topped it was intact. Perhaps it was a harbinger of positivity. At least, Clara hoped it was.

Quincy reached into his coat pocket, pulling a tarnished key from its depths.

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