Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
No, not a house.
The Downs.
Home for twelve generations to the Duke of Burleigh.
Current home of said duke and his three sisters.
In order: Battle, Temperance, Prudence and Chastity.
Oh yes, those were their names.
And oh yes, considering Talyn Family lore, those names were far from surprising.
It was Prudence who I’d corresponded with for the last year after I’d come across my great-grandfather’s letters in a box of stuff my sister and I found in our mom’s house when we were going through it after she passed.
It was Prudence who’d been excited about my idea for my next book.
And it was Prudence who’d invited me to stay.
And stay I would, for two weeks, being offered unfettered (maybe) access to the pictures, papers, journals, photos, daguerreotypes, ledgers, and anything else they could dig out for me about the life and times of the Talyn Family: keepers of the Duchy of Burleigh and the jewel of The Downs.
Or, hopefully this would happen.
One not-so-minor blip in my excitement about my six-month sojourn to England that had put a pall over embarking on this journey…
A journey that included me moving on to a cottage by the sea after the two weeks I’d spend here. I’d stay at that cottage for six months, close to The Downs and anything I might need, and in the area where it all happened, so I could immerse myself, hit museums, libraries and church registries, and anything else I might need…
And that pall was about commencing this without Battle Talyn, the Duke of Burleigh, approving the contract my agent and her attorneys had been negotiating with his attorneys so that I could have access to Burleigh documents.
However, Prudence assured me, although this had not been sorted, I should feel free to come regardless, because in the end, again she assured me, vehemently, this would not be a problem.
Battie is just really careful about protecting our family, Prudence had written in one of our plethora of email exchanges. He’s being nitpicky. He knows how excited I am about this! And he’s my big brother; he likes to give me what I so wish to have. But in the end, it’s his job to protect The Downs. Though it’s my opinion he takes it too seriously! Then again, in my opinion, Battie takes everything too seriously.
This, I’d discovered, was true.
“Battie” took things very seriously.
Especially privacy.
Honest to God, regardless of this family’s aristocratic lineage, their famous holdings, and their immeasurable wealth, it was hard to find a picture of any of them.
And trust me, I tried.
The one who the paparazzi attempted the hardest to capture was the duke, but he’d perfected the art of angling his head, or his umbrella, or the upturn of a lapel so all you saw was maybe his ear, his temple or a hint of his (chiseled, as far as I could tell) jaw.
Images or even presence of Temperance, Prudence and Chastity were nearly nonexistent on the internet, including social media. The only one of all the siblings who had an account was Chastity, on Instagram, and all she posted were pictures of flowers.
Okay, so maybe the sensation I had before turning into the lane to The Downs wasn’t strange.
Any good researcher loved a good mystery, and there were four in this house I was about to meet.
I grabbed my tote and exited my white Peugeot 3008, continuing to stare up at the house, and therefore I saw a gentleman walk out of it.
Not Battle.
Too old, too short, too stocky, and this man was wearing a black suit, gray waistcoat and red tie that looked less of a suit and more of a uniform.
The butler?
I walked up the steps, pulling my coat closer around me as I did. It was April in the West Country of England, therefore damp, cold, dreary, gray and windy.
When I made it to the top, I noted there was a complicated crest embroidered on the man’s red tie.
It was a study of flamboyant red and cerulean swirls surrounding a shield in the same stripes. This was topped with the helmet of a knight, adorned with gold, pearls and rubies, out of the top of which was a surfeit of fluffy, vibrant plume feathers (yes, they somehow got all of that embroidered on a tie).
This was the Duchy’s crest, which was also on the flag, emblazoned on two stripes, one red, one cerulean, and the right edge of the flag cut out into the sharp points of a sideways V.
A flag I’d noted was flying under the Union Jack above The Downs right then.
“Miss Dupree. Welcome to The Downs,” he said on a very slight bow.
He intended to say more, he just didn’t get the chance.
Out from the front doors flew a petite woman with stick-straight auburn hair, which was cut in a severe style with a radically level edge across very high bangs at her forehead and the same at a length that hit her chin.