Free Ambersley (Lords of London) by Amy Atwell Page A

grown up. But then none of us can avoid growing older , can we?”
     
    Rosalie cleared her throat. “May I offer refreshments, gentlemen?”
     
    Minton’s eyes sparkled. “While this is a moment worth celebrating, I fear the hour is a bit early, and there are many things I’m eager to discuss with His Grace.”
     
    “ Then perhaps I should leave you gentlemen to your business.” Though politely worded, Rosalie’s lips tightened into a thin line.
     
    “ No need.” Derek stopped her as she walked toward the door. “Our business encompasses this whole estate, and I am eager to see Ambersley Hall.”
     
    Harry grinned. “Then by all means, let’s not infringe on the lady’s generosity.”
     
    “ I’m more than happy to do what I can for my family, Mr. Coatsworth.”
     
    Belatedly, Derek recalled his stepmother had never liked his cousin, nor anyone named Coatsworth for that matter.
     
    Minton either didn’t recognize the veiled animosity between the two, or purposefully ignored it. “My lady, if we might then impose upon you for luncheon?”
     
    “ Of course, Mr. Minton. Shall we say half past twelve?” Rosalie managed to look down her nose at all of them, finishing with the boy, Johnny. “And, Your Grace, I’ll tell Curtis and Olivia of your return.”
     
    “ I look forward to meeting them,” Derek said. He ushered the others out to Minton’s waiting carriage, where Harry paid off the lad. Johnny stared at the gold sovereign with awe, gave a whoop of delight and dashed away, leaving the men to chuckle as they climbed into the coach.
     
    Churning gray clouds hung low as they pulled up before the Hall once more. The turbulent sky darkened the already sooty façade as if to blot it out completely. Derek couldn’t help but worry for the estate’s welfare if Rosalie became its chatelaine. She wouldn’t worry about restoring its former glory—she’d want to use it to glorify herself.
     
    “ The original Hall was Tudor, but the eighth duke undertook to refurbish it in the Baroque style over a century ago,” Minton explained as they descended from the coach. “As you can see, the fire burned through the main hall and damaged most of the upper floors, destroying many of the servants’ quarters.”
     
    “ How did the fire start?” Derek asked.
     
    “ I’m afraid we don’t know. At the time, the staff expressed concern that the fire had been set deliberately, but I employed Bow Street, and they could find no proof of the claims. It appears it was naught but a tragic accident.” Minton led the way around the right flank of the house. “I had the roof repaired to protect what was left of the interior, but it wasn’t meant to be a permanent remedy. You see it hasn’t weathered the elements well.”
     
    The solicitor’s words were readily evidenced. “Why weren’t more extensive repairs done?” Derek studied the bricked-up windows as they passed.
     
    “ The estate was rather tied up while we tried to find the rightful heir,” Minton replied. “You’d not believe how many Vaughan men have died young and left no sons. I’ve acted as the executor of the estate for the past four years, but my powers are limited.”
     
    “ Looks as if someone’s been maintaining the roses, anyway.” Harry stopped to inhale one blossom’s sweet fragrance.
     
    Derek studied the rear of the Hall, the worst of its damage hidden at this angle. The golden stone projected a warmth that beckoned him with promise.
     
    “ Shall we?” Minton opened one of the French doors that gave access to the gardens and entered the Hall.
     
    Derek hesitated on the threshold of the dimly lit interior while Harry peered over his shoulder.
     
    “ Ten to one the place is haunted,” Harry whispered in his ear.
     
    Derek shushed him as Minton began the tour.
     
    “ This part of the Hall weathered the worst part of the fire.” Mr. Minton led them down a wide corridor where charred walls were beginning to crumble.