event of my death, I hereby appoint Kenton Steel as her legal guardian, to oversee her future until the day she marries, at which point the privilege of caring for her shall become her husband’s duty. In the event of Kenton’s death, I hereby appoint his son Desmond as successor-guardian, to enact all the responsibilities described herein.’ ”
Unanticipated resentment surged to life inside Quentin as Ardsley’s final stipulation struck home. Desmond—responsible for Brandi?
Quentin glanced over, gauging Brandi’s reaction to the thought of being entrusted to a man she’d once called a relic. He could tell naught from her expression, which remained unchanged; her eyes vague, faraway. Had the reality yet to sink in, or had her relationship with Desmond altered so dramatically that Ardsley’s provision was not only tenable but welcome?
“That concludes the will readings,” Hendrick announced, coming to his feet. “Unless, of course, there are questions.”
“I think it would be best if we postponed questions or discussion for another time,” Desmond inserted at once, inclining his head meaningfully in Brandi’s direction. Gently, he guided her from her chair. “Today has depleted the final vestige of our emotional reserves.”
“I fully understand.” Hendrick turned to Quentin. “Is that amenable to you as well?”
“Perfectly.” Quentin rose. “Moreover, I have no need for clarification. The terms of the wills were quite clear.”
“Brandice?” Hendrick asked gently.
“I’d like to go home now,” Brandi whispered.
“Come, little one.” Desmond cupped her elbow. “I’ll accompany you back to Emerald Manor.”
Brandi took two steps, then halted as Desmond’s choice of words spawned a new concern.
Narrow shoulders tensed, she pivoted slowly to face Quentin. “Emerald Manor,” she repeated, gazing at Quentin with a bleak, disoriented look that tore at his heart. “I don’t know what your plans are, what you want me to do. Shall I pack my things and have them sent back to Townsbourne tonight?”
Quentin’s brows drew together. “Why would you do that?”
“I …” She swallowed, her lips quivering. “The cottage is yours now. I’m sure Pamela and Kenton would want you, not I, living there.”
Quentin stepped forward, framed her face between his palms. “You’re wrong, Sunbeam. Nothing would make my parents happier than knowing you’d chosen their loving haven in which to heal. And nothing would insult me more than if you chose to leave.” His forefinger traced a tender line down the bridge of her nose. “Moreover, who but you could help Herbert tend the gardens? Left in my inept hands, Emerald Manor’s splendid gazebo would be surrounded by perishing flowers and unkempt ivy. Need I tell you how Mother would feel about that?”
A whisper of a smile. “No, you needn’t.”
“Good. Then that puts an end to your ludicrous suggestion. Unless, of course—” Quentin’s eyes twinkled. “This wouldn’t, perchance, be an attempt to back out of our shooting match, would it? If you recall, we did plan it for tomorrow morning.”
This time, Brandi’s smile appeared of its own accord. “I recall. And I assure you, my lord, I have no intentions of backing out.”
“That’s a relief. Then I suggest you stop spouting this nonsense about returning to Townsbourne and instead hasten off to Emerald Manor to prepare for battle.”
“I’ll do that.” Brandi scrutinized Quentin’s face, her disorientation temporarily held at bay. “Are you all right?” she asked softly.
“Yes. And so are you.” Gently, he ruffled her hair, then urged her toward the door. “Now go with Desmond. I’ll be by at ten tomorrow, pistol in hand.”
“And—pistol in hand—you’ll be defeated, just as you were four years past,” Brandi managed to tease back. Complying with Quentin’s request, she walked over to join Desmond in the doorway.
Quentin chuckled, vastly relieved by
Unanticipated resentment surged to life inside Quentin as Ardsley’s final stipulation struck home. Desmond—responsible for Brandi?
Quentin glanced over, gauging Brandi’s reaction to the thought of being entrusted to a man she’d once called a relic. He could tell naught from her expression, which remained unchanged; her eyes vague, faraway. Had the reality yet to sink in, or had her relationship with Desmond altered so dramatically that Ardsley’s provision was not only tenable but welcome?
“That concludes the will readings,” Hendrick announced, coming to his feet. “Unless, of course, there are questions.”
“I think it would be best if we postponed questions or discussion for another time,” Desmond inserted at once, inclining his head meaningfully in Brandi’s direction. Gently, he guided her from her chair. “Today has depleted the final vestige of our emotional reserves.”
“I fully understand.” Hendrick turned to Quentin. “Is that amenable to you as well?”
“Perfectly.” Quentin rose. “Moreover, I have no need for clarification. The terms of the wills were quite clear.”
“Brandice?” Hendrick asked gently.
“I’d like to go home now,” Brandi whispered.
“Come, little one.” Desmond cupped her elbow. “I’ll accompany you back to Emerald Manor.”
Brandi took two steps, then halted as Desmond’s choice of words spawned a new concern.
Narrow shoulders tensed, she pivoted slowly to face Quentin. “Emerald Manor,” she repeated, gazing at Quentin with a bleak, disoriented look that tore at his heart. “I don’t know what your plans are, what you want me to do. Shall I pack my things and have them sent back to Townsbourne tonight?”
Quentin’s brows drew together. “Why would you do that?”
“I …” She swallowed, her lips quivering. “The cottage is yours now. I’m sure Pamela and Kenton would want you, not I, living there.”
Quentin stepped forward, framed her face between his palms. “You’re wrong, Sunbeam. Nothing would make my parents happier than knowing you’d chosen their loving haven in which to heal. And nothing would insult me more than if you chose to leave.” His forefinger traced a tender line down the bridge of her nose. “Moreover, who but you could help Herbert tend the gardens? Left in my inept hands, Emerald Manor’s splendid gazebo would be surrounded by perishing flowers and unkempt ivy. Need I tell you how Mother would feel about that?”
A whisper of a smile. “No, you needn’t.”
“Good. Then that puts an end to your ludicrous suggestion. Unless, of course—” Quentin’s eyes twinkled. “This wouldn’t, perchance, be an attempt to back out of our shooting match, would it? If you recall, we did plan it for tomorrow morning.”
This time, Brandi’s smile appeared of its own accord. “I recall. And I assure you, my lord, I have no intentions of backing out.”
“That’s a relief. Then I suggest you stop spouting this nonsense about returning to Townsbourne and instead hasten off to Emerald Manor to prepare for battle.”
“I’ll do that.” Brandi scrutinized Quentin’s face, her disorientation temporarily held at bay. “Are you all right?” she asked softly.
“Yes. And so are you.” Gently, he ruffled her hair, then urged her toward the door. “Now go with Desmond. I’ll be by at ten tomorrow, pistol in hand.”
“And—pistol in hand—you’ll be defeated, just as you were four years past,” Brandi managed to tease back. Complying with Quentin’s request, she walked over to join Desmond in the doorway.
Quentin chuckled, vastly relieved by
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