by Lori Wick
When it was just Sunny and Brandon, Sunny turned to speak with him quietly. "Where is your mother?"
"She opted to stay with grandfather today. Normally we would be there with her, or she would come here to Willows' End, but when grandfather took that turn, plans were changed. They're expecting us tomorrow."
"Whom are they expecting?" Sunny had to ask, afraid to assume she was included when she might not be.
"The entire family will be over there for a tew hours, but you and I are going early."
Sunny did not look pleased, but Brandon, knowing her well, did not assume she wasn't.
In truth, Sunny was neither pleased nor displeased; merely curious. Lady Andrea, her mother's best friend, had been a preoccupation for her through the entire voyage, and afternotmeeting her the last time, she had put the woman out of her mind. Now, however, it seemed she actually would be meeting Brandon's mother. She seemed such an important link to the past for Sunny, and Sunny desperately wanted to know her. Sunny fretted about it until her stomach came to the rescue.
"Breakfast is in one hour," Chelsea's voice rang through the
>m. "You all have until 8:30 to dress and be in the large dining
i." Everyone cheered at this announcement, and the room slowly
jtied.
Sally was waiting when Sunny got to her room. After a brief bath, Sunny was buttoned into a beautiful rose-colored day dress. The fabric was a lightweight wool, with long sleeves and a high neckline. Sally pulled the front of Sunny's hair away from her face, securing it in a gold clasp at the crown of her head. The rest was brushed until it shone and left hanging down her back.
Holly's maid had been equally as busy with her hair and dress, and when Holly stopped by Sunny's room to collect her, Sunny told her how pretty she looked.
"We always have callers on Christmas day," Holly told her. "I want to look my best."
Immediately conjuring up images of Brice Kemp and Vic Taylor, Sunny fervently hoped she would be elsewhere if Holly had callers.
The girls had just stepped into the hall when Louise rushed past them, six-year-old Grace in tow. Both girls stopped suddenly and came back to give great attention to the older girls* dresses. Never uttering a sound, Grace reached out a tentative hand and reverently touched the full skirt of Sunny's dress. Sunny was catching a glimmer of how eye-catching her clothing was, but she was still a long way from understanding the effect her looks had on most people.
"A forage?" Sunny asked in confusion.
"Yes," Holly explained patiently. "Mother always plans one when all the nieces and nephews are here. We break into teams of two or three, and off we go."
It was midmorning and breakfast was over. The adults, parents and nannies alike, were having some time of their own, and Chelsea was entertaining the children. Holly was called across the room before Sunny was able to ask exactly what it was they did on a forage.
"Okay," Chelsea called to the group gathered in the library. "Sunny, Holly, and Harlan are team captains. You must listen to your team captain and return here together as a team."
This said, Sunny found a list pushed into her hand. Before she knew it, the room had emptied, or nearly emptied. Sunny was raising
130
the list to her eyes when she realized both James and Grace wen standing at her feet. She looked down into their expectant faces an< wondered what she was supposed to do. It hadn't happened oftc but her family sometimes forgot how foreign English customs were] to her. After searching their faces, Sunny read the list, hoping shef would understand.
/na&c
tyi&w
dwpe/tet
The list was no help to Sunny at all, but Miles, who had told his mother he was too old for such things, had come into the library in time to hear Grace's question.
"What do we look for first, Aunt Sunny?"
"Are we supposed to look for these things, Grace?** Sunny asked right back.
alt's a forage," the little girl explained logically.
"A fowage," James added, whose r's all sounded like w's.
Miles had come forward and carefully taken the list from Sunny's grasp. She watched in confusion as he walked directly to the books and plucked a thin volume from the shelf.
"A forage is a race where you run around and collect the items on your list. The first team back with their list complete wins. Now this is the poetry book you need. Go to the kitchen and get the pot. You can collect all the other things on the list and put them in the pot." This said, Miles turned to go.
"Grace," Sunny whispered, "do you know where the kitchen is?* Miles stopped before he reached the door, his hand coming to the back of his neck in a long-suffering move. If he didn't get out of
129
;, he was going to start staring at Sunny again, but the sound of
puzzled whisper and the confusion he saw in her eyes stopped
in his tracks.
"I'll show you," he heard himself saying, and the next thing he he had the four of them rushing through the house toward the kitchen. The other teams had been ahead of them, but as the objectJjofthe game fully dawned on Sunny, the look of delight on her face i worth the loss.
They came away from the kitchen with both the pot and spoon, ; and were rushing toward Miles' room for a feather quill when Sunny realized that Grace had a red ribbon in her hair and James was wearing blue shoes.
They went to Sunny's room for the lace handkerchief. Miles shot into the music room for the sheet music, while he sent Sunny and the little ones to the upstairs salon for the thimble. They were still searching when he returned because only Grace knew what it looked like.
"Here it is." Miles produced it in record time and threw it in the pot. Racing back downstairs, they just beat Marian and Lance to come in second place behind Holly and the twins. There was much laughter and fun as the items were checked. Some moments passed before Chelsea realized that Miles had aided Sunny's team. She pulled him aside as the rest of the group filed out to replace their treasures.
"How fair was that, Miles, with you and Sunny working together?"
"Quite fair," he told her wryly, "considering Sunny hadn't the faintest idea what a forage was."
Chelsea's hand came to her mouth. "Is she all right?"
"I think so," he answered softly.
Chelsea smiled at his understanding and raised up on tiptoe to kiss her son's cheek.
"Are you all right?" Chelsea wanted to know now.
"I will be," he admitted.
"Thank you, Miles."
He smiled by way of acknowledgment, but it was a smile so strained that when he told her he was going to visit his best friend, Jordan, she did nothing to detain him.
131
Qwwfc'Wfr
(7
the day after christmas was boxing day. Started in 1833, the first workday after Christmas was declared a legal English holiday. The tradition at the Gallagher household was to spend as much of the day outside as possible to give the staff their own chance to celebrate Christmas.
Douglas, Marian, and the children had left first thing that morning, but the remainder of the family was planning to ride up to the hunting lodge to picnic and fend for themselves for most of the afternoon. From there they would ride to Bracken for a brief visit and exchange of gifts with the duke.
Brandon and Sunny were the only ones not included in the plans. They would be leaving for Bracken right after breakfast and joining everyone at the lodge for lunch. Brandon had told Sunny how to prepare, and when she appeared in the downstairs foyer to meet him, she had already given her satchel to Binks. It held her riding habit, boots, and needed toiletries for the day.
They took Brandon's large coach to Bracken, and after they were on the road, Brandon explained that they would take horses from his grandfather's stables for the ride to the hunting lodge. Most of the animals there were his own, and he was looking forward to seeing Sunny's face when he gave her a spirited horse for the day.
"How long
is the ride?" Sunny asked just moments after they had begun.
"Little more than half an hour in good weather, but it's been rainy, so it could stretch to an hour."
Fully content at finally having Brandon to herself, Sunny settled against the squabs and shocked him with the next words out of
mouth.
"Brandon, where is my money?"
Sunny's finances had been the furthest thing from Brandon's jind, so he was quite taken aback at her query. As he took a monent to ponder, however, he saw that it was logical she would be Econcerned. He and Rand had discussed the talk Rand had with her ^during the gift-opening, and he should have known this question j would not be long in coming. He was also the logical person to ask, las she still seemed more at home with him than anyone else.
"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?"
132
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
133
moved her toward the door. As they exited, her last thought wastowonder 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
134
135
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 BrentandBrandon'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."