Free The Heir and the Spare by Emily Albright

but what was the purpose?
    Preston reached across me to pat Edmund’s knee. “Don’t worry, we won’t let her gobble you up.”
    Edmund gave Preston a less than amused look. I laughed.
    The cab rolled to a stop under a covered entrance. Caroline clambered out after Marissa, letting it be known how grateful she was for space. Personally, I didn’t mind the tight quarters. Being squished between two attractive men was just fine with me.
Maybe I can get the same seat on the way back.
    I stepped onto the gravel drive and spun around. A small sign advertised a cafe in the old carriage house. Umbrellas were available for those who chose to walk around and not take the tour.
    “And that’s where I’m heading, tea.” Suzy pointed to the sign and trotted off with Caroline and Marissa on her heels.
    “You doing the tour, Pres?” Edmund asked.
    “Why not? I’ll keep you two company.”
    The three of us went up a short flight of stairs and through the double doors.
    “Good afternoon.” A sharply dressed woman stood behind the mahogany desk. She did a double take at Edmund and his security guards. “Your Highness, a pleasure to have you with us,” she said, coming over to us.
    “Thank you.” Edmund nodded, shaking her hand.
    “Will you be taking the full tour today?” She gestured to a sign in a gilt picture frame. We had three options: tour the art gallery, tour the house, or do both—the full tour.
    Edmund turned to me, wordlessly asking if that’s what I wanted to do. I bobbed my head.
    “Yes, please.”
    “Fabulous. I’ll inform the docent you’re here. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
    Edmund turned to Preston and me. “Shall we?”
    The entry was a large rotunda with a glass-domed ceiling. This place had to cost a fortune in upkeep. Velvet-covered couches and high-backed chairs were arranged in little vignettes. A fire blazed in the hearth at the back of the room.
    Preston walked toward the heat source and I followed; it was chilly in here.
    “Wow, that’s a Constable.” I gestured above the fireplace, my mouth hanging open.
    “Sure looks like it.” Edmund leaned closer.
    “It’s actually a reproduction, Your Highness,” a stiff voice echoed through the room. We turned to see a short, stocky woman whose black hair was streaked with gray and tautly pulled off her face. Unsmiling, she added, “All the original artwork is in climate-controlled areas of the house.”
    “Ah, of course.” Edmund smiled at her.
    “Welcome to Welsington. I’m Ms. Hollingbrook, your guide for the afternoon.” With her heels click-clacking on the marble floors, we set off.
    Room after room was chock full of antique furniture. My fingers itched to touch, but we’d been reminded several times not to lay a finger on anything.
    Though our guide used her words sparingly and mostly for reprimands, I did glean that the duchess rarely came to the manor. Years ago, when the duke died and the duchess was left to manage everything, she’d made a permanent move to London.
    Maybe she left because it was too lonely here.
As I went through the rooms I tried to picture it filled with a family, but I just couldn’t. Everything was too formal and fancy.
    “We are now entering the East Wing Gallery.” Ms. Hollingbrook thrust open a pair of white doors into a room with paintings lining the walls and marble statues in two neat rows down the center. “I’ll give you twenty-five minutes to look around. Personal portraiture is on the left, the private collection on the right. The plaques should answer most of your questions.” Hands clasped behind her back, she set to pacing the long rectangular room.
    “She’s not intimidating at all,” Preston whispered in my ear.
    I snickered. “Nope, not even a smidgen.”
    Edmund veered to the left, studying a large painting of a formidable woman. Preston went toward the statues. I was tempted to head right, that way we’d cover the room and could compare notes later. But who am I