Master Desmond be returning tonight?”
Quentin tossed down his drink. “Not for another hour or so. He escorted Brandi to Emerald Manor.”
“But he will continue residing at Colverton?”
Quentin halted, midswallow, lowering his drink to the sideboard. “That’s an odd question. Of course he’ll continue residing at Colverton. Where else would he live? After all, he is the newly appointed duke.”
Surprise flashed briefly on Bentley’s carefully schooled features. “Did you say the duke, sir?”
“I did.” Quentin sighed. “I know it will take some getting used to, Bentley, but Father is gone. The sooner we come to terms with it, the better.”
“Mr. Hendrick did read the wills today, did he not?”
“He did.” Quentin nodded. “The documents yielded no surprises; Desmond will assume Father’s title and businesses, both of which I’m sure he’ll handle admirably.” Turning to refill his glass, Quentin missed the startled look on Bentley’s face. “He’ll also oversee Ardsley’s business and …” Quentin broke off. “I retract my statement, Bentley. There was one surprise. Not only will Desmond be responsible for Ardsley’s business, he’ll also be responsible for his daughter.”
“Miss Brandi?”
“Yes. Father was designated her guardian, Desmond his successor. Hence, Desmond is now Brandi’s overseer.”
“I see.” Bentley pursed his lips thoughtfully. “And how did Miss Brandi react to this news?”
“I’m not certain. She’s taking all three deaths extremely hard and is still very much in shock. Frankly, I’m not even sure she comprehended what Hendrick was telling her.”
“And Emerald Manor? Did the duke and duchess will their cottage to Miss Brandi?”
“No, they willed it to me. But, given the circumstances, I’d rather Brandi continued to stay there. You saw how precarious an emotional state she was in. Evicting her from Emerald Manor might be more than she can handle. Besides, where would she go—back to Townsbourne? That estate holds nothing for her but pain and emptiness.”
“I agree, sir. But, where will you stay?”
“ ’Tis not as if I don’t have a home here at Colverton, Bentley. I’ll stay here—tor however long I remain in England.”
“You plan to return to the continent?”
“When I’m needed, yes.”
Silence.
“Sit down and eat, Master Quentin,” Bentley said at last. “You need your strength.”
Quentin complied, absently chewing his food, his thoughts troubled and faraway.
A prolonged interval elapsed.
“Bentley—” Quentin broke the silence at last, finishing his last bite and pushing aside the empty plate. “Has much changed since I’ve been away?”
“Changed?” A split second of hesitation, as telling as it was brief. “Are you referring to anything in particular, my lord?”
“No. Yes.” Quentin’s head came up, his probing gaze leveled at the butler. “I’m referring to Desmond. Has he, or any one of his relationships, undergone a transformation recently?”
Bentley’s cough was uneasy. “I’m not certain how to answer that, Master Quentin,” he responded, his composure slipping but a fraction.
A fraction was enough.
“It appears you know precisely how to answer that.” Quentin was more determined than ever to get at the truth. “Bentley, I’m asking you to tell me what you know. How have Desmond’s alliances altered while I’ve been—”
The sound of the front door opening interrupted Quentin’s interrogation. With obvious relief, Bentley reacted, veering abruptly to return to his entranceway post. “Please excuse me, Master Quentin. We’ll continue our talk later.”
“Yes, Bentley, we most definitely shall.”
Quentin had no time to ponder Bentley’s uncustomary state of off-balance. An instant later, Desmond strode into the sitting room, his expression dark and brooding. He barely nodded in Quentin’s direction, simultaneously tugging off his cravat and crossing over to the
Quentin tossed down his drink. “Not for another hour or so. He escorted Brandi to Emerald Manor.”
“But he will continue residing at Colverton?”
Quentin halted, midswallow, lowering his drink to the sideboard. “That’s an odd question. Of course he’ll continue residing at Colverton. Where else would he live? After all, he is the newly appointed duke.”
Surprise flashed briefly on Bentley’s carefully schooled features. “Did you say the duke, sir?”
“I did.” Quentin sighed. “I know it will take some getting used to, Bentley, but Father is gone. The sooner we come to terms with it, the better.”
“Mr. Hendrick did read the wills today, did he not?”
“He did.” Quentin nodded. “The documents yielded no surprises; Desmond will assume Father’s title and businesses, both of which I’m sure he’ll handle admirably.” Turning to refill his glass, Quentin missed the startled look on Bentley’s face. “He’ll also oversee Ardsley’s business and …” Quentin broke off. “I retract my statement, Bentley. There was one surprise. Not only will Desmond be responsible for Ardsley’s business, he’ll also be responsible for his daughter.”
“Miss Brandi?”
“Yes. Father was designated her guardian, Desmond his successor. Hence, Desmond is now Brandi’s overseer.”
“I see.” Bentley pursed his lips thoughtfully. “And how did Miss Brandi react to this news?”
“I’m not certain. She’s taking all three deaths extremely hard and is still very much in shock. Frankly, I’m not even sure she comprehended what Hendrick was telling her.”
“And Emerald Manor? Did the duke and duchess will their cottage to Miss Brandi?”
“No, they willed it to me. But, given the circumstances, I’d rather Brandi continued to stay there. You saw how precarious an emotional state she was in. Evicting her from Emerald Manor might be more than she can handle. Besides, where would she go—back to Townsbourne? That estate holds nothing for her but pain and emptiness.”
“I agree, sir. But, where will you stay?”
“ ’Tis not as if I don’t have a home here at Colverton, Bentley. I’ll stay here—tor however long I remain in England.”
“You plan to return to the continent?”
“When I’m needed, yes.”
Silence.
“Sit down and eat, Master Quentin,” Bentley said at last. “You need your strength.”
Quentin complied, absently chewing his food, his thoughts troubled and faraway.
A prolonged interval elapsed.
“Bentley—” Quentin broke the silence at last, finishing his last bite and pushing aside the empty plate. “Has much changed since I’ve been away?”
“Changed?” A split second of hesitation, as telling as it was brief. “Are you referring to anything in particular, my lord?”
“No. Yes.” Quentin’s head came up, his probing gaze leveled at the butler. “I’m referring to Desmond. Has he, or any one of his relationships, undergone a transformation recently?”
Bentley’s cough was uneasy. “I’m not certain how to answer that, Master Quentin,” he responded, his composure slipping but a fraction.
A fraction was enough.
“It appears you know precisely how to answer that.” Quentin was more determined than ever to get at the truth. “Bentley, I’m asking you to tell me what you know. How have Desmond’s alliances altered while I’ve been—”
The sound of the front door opening interrupted Quentin’s interrogation. With obvious relief, Bentley reacted, veering abruptly to return to his entranceway post. “Please excuse me, Master Quentin. We’ll continue our talk later.”
“Yes, Bentley, we most definitely shall.”
Quentin had no time to ponder Bentley’s uncustomary state of off-balance. An instant later, Desmond strode into the sitting room, his expression dark and brooding. He barely nodded in Quentin’s direction, simultaneously tugging off his cravat and crossing over to the
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