The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3), Sahara Kelly [english novels for students .TXT] 📗

had been a surprisingly busy day, all things considered. Royce leaned back in his chair as they finished their Christmas meal, and admitted he’d not had a better one that he could recall.

He lifted his glass. “Here’s a toast,” he said. “To Evan, and a Christmas dinner we shall all remember with the greatest degree of pleasure.”

“Hear hear.”

Everyone else’s voice joined in the endorsement and five glasses were raised, making Evan blush with embarrassment.

“I…”

“Don’t even try, Evan,” laughed Jeremy. “You’ve outdone yourself. Just let us say thank you for it.”

“Well I was only going to say…”

“Stop. You always feed us wonderful food. Just sit there and smile, and nod your acknowledgement,” Gabriel ordered sternly.

“No really…”

“We mean it, lad,” grinned Harry.”

“Oh for God’s sake…” Evan sputtered. “I was merely going to point out that you all had a hand in today’s meal. Between keeping the stove hot, popping this and that in the oven, mixing, arranging and basting, not a single one of you didn’t help. So…” He raised his own wine. “I salute you all. Now shut up and finish the pudding.” He nodded firmly. “Then you may all go to the kitchen and clean up.”

The laugh that greeted that statement rocked the room.

No sooner had it died down than everyone stilled at the sound of a knocking on the front door.

“Who the blazes…” Jeremy rose. “Let me see who it is.”

Royce frowned, unable to imagine who might be out of their homes on Christmas Day. A look of puzzlement on the other faces let him know he was not alone in that thought.

Jeremy returned, bearing letters. “I’m shocked, I have to say, but that was young Tom, Thomas Matthew’s oldest lad.”

Royce recognised the name as one of their tenants.

“They all spent the day with relatives in Little Maddington, and apparently these letters were awaiting delivery so they picked them up and Tom just brought them on their way home. They had the cart outside.”

“That’s a surprise,” said Gwyneth. “Personal mail on Christmas Day.”

“We should have given them a plate of something…” Evan blinked.

“We can take some over tomorrow, perhaps,” Gabriel glanced at him.

“Good idea,” Gwyneth approved. “We’ve more than enough mince pies. And if I eat any more, I’ll be having to buy new gowns.” She patted her stomach.

“Important letters?” Harry shot a quick look at Royce.

“I’m not sure. One from Giles…probably wishing us a happy Christmas…” he broke the seal and read. “Or perhaps not.”

The others looked at him.

Royce scanned the letter, then re-read it, aware of the audience, but doing his best to focus on the subject matter, which was complicated. There were several pages and he read them all. Twice.

Then he looked up. “This is…well, it’s lengthy and complex.”

Gwyneth shot him a sharp look. “I suggest we clear away, while Royce takes those letters to the parlour and absorbs the content?” She glanced at the others. “That way he can explain it to us when we join him.” Her gaze returned to his face, and her expression spoke volumes.

“Yes, my Lady. I can assure you I will indeed tell you everything.” He stood. “I think I need to get a couple of books from my study first. So forgive me if I don’t help…”

Jeremy waved his hand. “Go along. We’ll take care of it.”

“The fire’s built up in there. I put logs on earlier.” Gabriel stood as well. “So give it a bit of a stoke up, and we’ll be with you in a bit.”

Royce nodded. “Thank you.”

As he left the room, he heard the chatter begin. The voices of friends, lovers, people who respected each other, joked together, helped and stood with each other in times of need. He’d been a soldier, a leader of men, and many other things in his lifetime. Nothing had prepared him for the strange emotions he’d begun to experience since arriving at Wolfbridge. It occurred to him that he was finally where he had wanted to be all his life, but never realised it.

At home.

Heading for his study, he was amused to find he had a small, fluffy escort. He stopped and looked down. “Well, lad. Walking with me today, are you then?”

Darcy merely cocked his head sideways, looked at Royce and then sat, as if waiting for him to continue on to wherever he was going.

Sighing, Royce turned to his office. “All right then. Come along. We’ve a couple of books to find.”

Together, man and dog turned into the room and after lighting a few candles, Royce carried one to the bookshelves and began perusing the titles.

Darcy made himself comfortable in the middle of the carpet and waited patiently.

“Damn. I know it’s here somewhere…” Royce ran his fingertip across the spines. “Here.” He tugged a thick volume free. “This is it.” He glanced at the dog. “Want to carry it for me?”

Darcy yawned.

“I thought so. All right, sprout. We have what we need. Let me just get a few sheets of paper. Someone will want to make notes, I’ll wager.”

As he collected the paper from his desk, he looked once again at the letter from Giles. “This is going to be a complicated problem, Darcy. And damned if I know how we’re going to handle it.”

As if he understood the emotion behind the words, the little dog gave a tiny whine and stood up, walking over to Royce and putting a paw on his shoe.

“Thank you,” chuckled Royce. “Your comfort is most welcome.”

He leaned over, gathered the dog up into his free arm, and—glancing around to make sure he was alone—dropped a quick kiss onto the pup’s silky head. “Don’t ever tell anyone I did that.”

Darcy’s tail wagged furiously and he snuggled close into Royce’s jacket, content to stay that way as the