Spinster and the Duke (London Ladies Book 2) by Jillian Eaton

Author:Jillian Eaton [Eaton, Jillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-23T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Inundated with sheep farms and patchwork fields of green, Sussex was bordered by the ocean on one side and the better known counties of Hampshire, Surrey, and Kent on the other. The Graystone’s estate rested just outside of Brighton, a rapidly growing village populated by farmers and fishermen alike.

Modestly sized at three hundred acres, Charlotte and Gavin’s country residence was a lovely mix of rolling hills and shaded forest divided by a wide stream that wound straight down the middle of the property, the water so clear one could see straight down to the pebble covered bottom in even the deepest of places.

Sitting far off the road at the end of a long drive lined with towering oak trees, the estate boasted a four story rectangular mansion with a pitched gable roof the color of brick and walls comprised of white sandstone. Having suffered through many different owners over the years, each one of whom attempted to leave their own individual mark, the mansion was an eclectic mismatch of styles both inside and out.

Charlotte Graystone, her fiery red curls pinned up in a demure twist and her growing belly disguised by a violet muslin gown, was waiting to greet Abigail and Dianna at the bottom of the front steps, her face wreathed in a beaming smile and her amber eyes sparkling with delight.

“It is wonderful to see you again so soon!” she called out while Abigail was still disembarking from the carriage. “I have both of your rooms ready and Ernie will have all of the trunks brought up. How was your journey?”

“Splendid,” Dianna said.

“Long,” Abigail replied succinctly once she had both feet firmly on the ground.

The trip from London to Sussex had taken three days. In their haste to reach the country, she and Dianna had forgone inns and traveled through the night, stopping only to exchange horses. As a result Abigail was stiff, sore, and very much feeling her age.

“Aunt Abigail is not accustomed to traveling this far from town,” Dianna explained. Looking much more refreshed in a traveling habit of soft blue, she slipped her arm through Abigail’s and together they followed Charlotte into the house and down the main hallway to a bright, sun drenched parlor with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the side lawn.

Sinking gratefully into a high backed drawing chair, Abigail drew off her hat and unbuttoned her high necked pelisse. Wriggling out of the traveling cloak with no small degree of effort, she gave it to a waiting maid who whisked it promptly away and returned with cool, refreshing lemonade.

“You have such a lovely home,” Abigail said after casting a quick, appraising eye around the room. So many country residences were decorated in the style of city townhouses: that was to say, they were over decorated with heavy fabrics, somber paintings, and dark walls. The Graystone’s home, on the other hand, was comfortable and cheerful with a bright mix of furnishings and adornments.

It was so very different from the only other grand estate she had ever visited–Ashburn House–that she could not help but draw comparisons.

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