The Hawk and the Jewel (Kensington Chronicles 1) (17 page)

"Not everything is in liquid assets, but your cash is-"

"Liquid assets?"

"Cash," Brandon supplied, and Sunny nodded before he went on.

"Your money is in banks; three banks and several accounts to be exact. Was there a particular reason you asked?"

"Well, I can't expect Foster to pay for everything, and I rather like the idea of having money of my own."

"Freedom," Brandon guessed quietly.

"Yes," Sunny admitted, with a slight raise of her chin.

Brandon understood how she felt. She had lived in a world of domination and subserviency, and even though Brandon believed God's perfect plan was for the man to be the head of the home, he knew well that God's plan did not include tyranny or making a chattel of one's wife. But this was exactly how Sunny had grown up.

"When the holidays are over, I would be more than happy to escort you to the bank and explain everything to you." Brandon did not tell her that by the family's vote, he had been chosen to govern her spending and financial freedom over the next few years. Why he was hesitant to explain this, he wasn't sure himself.

"Your Grace." Williams, the duke's personal valet, spoke to the duke in a soft voice as he approached the old man's chair. The duke woke but didn't move.

"Your grandson and Lady Sunny have arrived. Would you like to see them now?"

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The duke realized then that he had fallen asleep while reading his Bible and hadn't even had breakfast. He had not slept much in the night, and he was sure this was the reason for drifting off while Mreading.

*Td like to have an hour or so, I think. Brandon will understand."

"Shall I ask Parks to tell them Lady Andrea is in the conservatory?"

"Yes, do that," the duke replied before rising to shave for breakfast.

Sunny liked Heather's home in London and thought that Willows' End was beautiful, but nothing could have prepared her for the magnificent beauty of Bracken.

Hundreds of years old, Bracken was an almost poetical use of wood and stone. The main portion of the old mansion, which seemed more like a castle to Sunny's eyes, was three stories high and seemed to stretch in all directions. Sunny's head tipped way back as Brandon took her through the extraordinary front door. It towered many feet over Brandon's head and was elaborately carved, with huge iron rings for door handles.

Sunny stepped over the threshold at Bracken, her mind lingering on what she had seen already. It took her a moment to reckon with what her eyes now beheld. She had thought the palace at Darhabar was grand, but this was magnificent.

A huge staircase rose before her, some 30 feet across and branching at the second level to head into two separate wings. A chandelier hung directly over Sunny's head nearly 25 feet up and sparkling with beveled glass and brass.

Sunny heard Brandon's voice, along with that of another man, but she took no notice as her eyes swept over spotless, dusky blue tiles. The carpet on the stairs was another shade of blue, and the walls were light peach. Behind the stairs Sunny spotted what appeared to be a gallery of paintings. She saw what must have been portraits of Brandon's ancestors, elaborately framed and looking very important.

Sunny was barely aware of the way Brandon took her arm and

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moved her toward the door. As they exited, her last thought was
to
wonder where all the many doors she had seen led.

"Those are the east rose gardens," Brandon pointed to a terraced portion of land some distance from the house as they followed Parks* instructions to find Lady Andrea. "You can't really appreciate it now, but the gardens are a riot of colors in the spring."

"Where did Parks say your mother was?" Sunny asked as they moved on down the path.

"In the conservatory, which was built in 1786. It's my mother's joy in the winter."

Not knowing what a conservatory was, Sunny asked, "What does she do there?" Just as Sunny asked, the building came into view. Brandon watched her face as she took in the five huge windows at the front. Each was multipaned with a rounded top and stood some 15 feet high on the front of the graystone building. As they approached the middle window, Sunny could see the glass door where they would enter. Even through the foggy glass she could also sec the most wonderful display of foliage she had ever beheld.

Warmth enveloped them as they st9pped through the door. The ceiling was at least 20 feet high, and some of the trees inside looked fully grown. Sunny was tipping her head back, trying to take in the expansive room all at once, when she heard a feminine voice.

"Happy Christmas, Brandon."

Sunny watched as a tall, beautiful woman came forward to hug and kiss her son. Andrea smiled into his eyes before turning to face Sunny. Andrea was not a woman easily given to tears, but the sight of Sunny Gallagher, Katherine's daughter, was a sore test of her emotions.

"Hello, Sunny," she finally spoke, her voice huskier than normal, her face open to every emotion she felt. Sunny felt tears sting her eyes over the love she saw there.

"I've wanted to meet you," Sunny whispered, quite taken with Andrea's quiet, gentle manner. "Brandon has told me that you knew my parents for years, and IVe wanted very much to know about my mother."

Andrea's heart broke at how young and vulnerable she sounded. Her arms went out, and Sunny walked into them. Brandon took a

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slow stroll around the conservatory to give them a moment's time. When he returned, Andrea had decided they needed to go back to the house and have a lengthy chat.

"I somehow had the impression you had a young lady with you."

Brandon rose from the chair in his grandfather's study and went to embrace the man. They both took chairs then, and the old man's eyes twinkled as he spoke again.

"How are you going to court this girl if you can't keep track of her long enough to introduce her to me?"

Brandon smiled in return. "I think you're forgetting she's only 14."

"Fourteen?" The duke was truly surprised. Why had he thought Sunny Gallagher was nearing 17? "Is she really that young?"

"Indeed she is, but aside from that, she's also like a sister to me."

"She's no more your sister than Andrea is mine," the duke informed him.

"That's quite true, but it doesn't change a thing."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning," Brandon spoke good-naturedly, "I've no reelings for her beyond that of a beloved baby sister."

"Hmm, I suppose that's true," the duke reluctantly conceded. "So when are you going to quit roaming the seas and look for a wife? I want to see my great-grandson."

Brandon shrugged but didn't reply. It was a longstanding exchange between them, and even though his grandfather was serious about wanting to see the future Duke of Briscoe, Brandon also knew that the older man would never want him to rush into a hasty union just to sec the family line continue. They proceeded to talk for the next hour, giving Brandon's mother and Sunny plenty of time alone.

"This is Thomas Brent. We were married for four years when he suffered a collapse. The doctors said it was his heart and that they could do nothing. He was with me only another six months."

"Why did Brandon never mention him to me?"

"I'm sure it was an innocent oversight on his part. You've had so many people to meet, and Thomas had no family. He and I never had children. Brandon was probably trying to keep things simple for you."

Sunny studied the man in the painting, very pleased that Lady Andrea had shown her the portrait of her second husband. He had hair the color of new straw, and even though his mouth was in a straight line, laughter seemed to lurk behind his eyes. Sunny thought he must have been a joyful man. She turned to say as much to Andrea but found her staring at her late husband's picture, a wistful expression in her eyes.

"I've been very blessed by God," she said softly. "I've loved and been loved twice in my life."

"Thomas Brent
and
Brandon's father," Sunny stated quietly.

Andrea turned back to her as though just remembering her presence. "Yes. Brandon's father." She led the way out of her sitting room into the hall and down four doors to a very masculine bedroom. Over the mantel hung a portrait of Edgar Hawkesbury. This time it was Sunny's turn to stare.

He was an older version of Brandon in nearly every way. His hair was dark but peppered with gray, and his eyes were penetrating. His features were nearly identical with Brandon's aquiline nose and strong, almost stubborn jaw.

"IVe been told we look alike," a masculine voice said from the doorway, "so you be careful with your comments on that portrait."

Andrea turned with a huge smile, but Sunny's look was hesitant. So this was Brandon's grandfather, the man who had been near death not six days ago. He was unsmiling now, and Sunny was unsure of what to make of him.

"You mustn't tease this girl, Milton," Andrea admonished him, her own voice teasing. "She won't want to come back."

The old man's eyes, probing now, studied Sunny until her chin rose ever so slightly. The duke chuckled. "I think she's made of sterner stuff than that, Andrea."

"You're probably right," the lovely widow agreed with a grin. "Sunny, allow me to introduce you to my father-in-law, the Duke of Briscoe. Milton, this is Lady Sunny Gallagher."

"You've the look of your grandmother," the old man stated as he took her hand. "She was a woman I greatly admired."

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Sunny wasn't sure how to reply to this, but she was saved from embarrassment when Brandon appeared behind his grandfather. Andrea saw the look of relief on Sunny's face, and was struck with how hard all of this must be for her. She was so good at hiding her feelings that Andrea, in just an hour's time, had completely forgotten J that Sunny was English only by birth.

As the four made their way downstairs for tea, Andrea meditated on how much the right hairstyle and clothing could do for a person. To look at Sunny, one would think she was English born
and
bred. Andrea felt terrible over not having fully grasped this before. Brandon had described their journey in great detail, but not until she had seen the young look of uncertainty on her face did Andrea stop and think how it might feel to be
introduced
to one's family. It gave her pause, and although she was talkative during tea, her heart was very prayerful.

The Lord saw to Andrea's prayers just an hour later when she found herself alone with Sunny once again. When they had come from the conservatory earlier, Sunny had been so taken with the rooms of Bracken that it had seemed an awkward time to try to discuss her mother, but suddenly Sunny was ready. In fact she opened the conversation.

"Why are there no children between Heather and me? Fourteen years is a long time."

"You're right, it is," the older woman agreed. "When Katherine learned you were on the way, she was quite amazed. Her pregnancy and delivery with Heather were very difficult, and the doctor said there would be no more babies. God must have had other plans, however. Whatever the problem was, it healed, and news of your coming was greeted with great surprise."

"Did they want me?**

"Oh, Sunny," Andrea's voice grew tender. "I'm sorry if I made it sound otherwise. Your parents were thrilled, as were your siblings. Your nursery was next to your parents* room, and your mother and I spent hours in that room talking and planning."

"What kind of plans?** Sunny was fascinated with this glimpse of the past.

"Your name, for instance. She and your father never had a single cross word over it. A boy was to be Evan, and a girl was to be Sunny."

**Who was Evan? Grandmama Sunny's husband?" That's right. He died years before you were born, but he was a wonderful family man with a godly spirit and a true love for all near

him."

"My father wanted me too?" Sunny had to know.

"Oh, my," Andrea spoke warmly. "You should have seen his face after you arrived. He couldn't take his eyes from you. He exclaimed over and over how much you forget about babies once your children grow older. Willows' End, always a place of joy, rang with laughter and delight upon your arrival."

There wasn't anything Andrea could have said that would have affected Sunny more. Her parents loved her, and she had been born at Willows' End. She was suddenly filled with a full, warm rush of feelings.

Just looking at her, Andrea could tell nothing, but progress was being made. Sunny was slowly accepting her new life and coming to truly believe that England was her home and that her family loved her dearly.

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THE FAMILYLOUNGED AROUND THEHUNTINGLODGE as though they

lived there day in and day out. Holly had the twins in the loft, but Heather, Foster, Rand, Chelsea, and Miles were in the great room sipping cups of strong tea. The topic of conversation had roamed greatly, but at the moment Sunny was on everyone's mind.

"Are you worried about the future?" Rand asked his brother-in-law.