Filthy Lies (Blackstone Dynasty 2)

“Are you sure you’re not twenty-five? You’ve grown a lot.” I thought it was sweet she called me ‘uncle’ when I really wasn’t. Obviously her parents had referred to me that way. Charmed the hell out of me, regardless.

She giggled again and nodded her head. “I am five right now, but I’ll be six on my birthday,” she explained patiently. She focused her attention on Brooke before asking, “Are you Uncle Caleb’s native wife?”

Brooke bent down to join our little conversation, stifled a laugh and answered, “Yes, I am his native wife. I’m Brooke, and I’m pleased to meet you, Zara.” She held out her hand.

“Pleased to meet you, and welcome to Hallborough House, we hope you enjoy your stay here with us,” Zara answered back, shaking Brooke’s hand with complete sincerity, as if she’d done it many, many times before. It made sense since she was used to guests coming into her home constantly, but seeing a little girl take on the role of concierge was priceless.

“Was it your mom or your grandpa who said Brooke was a ‘native’?” I couldn’t resist asking, and I knew she would tell me. Zara was honest to a fault underneath all that charm. If I ever had a daughter, I hoped she might be like her. This kid was one in a million.

“Uncle Ethan said it,” she informed us.

Not a surprise. I knew Ethan would get a laugh out of the fact I married a Brit, especially since he’d recently married an American.

Zara took each of us by the hand and steered us toward the house. “Let’s go in now, the boys will come for your bags and take them to your room.” Hannah and Freddy were obviously raising their kids right, teaching them to help with the family business.

“Do you know what ‘native’ means, Zara?” Brooke asked as we walked, our footsteps crunching along the snowy ground.

“Yes,” she said with a serious nod of her head, “It means you know the Queen, and can say your words properly.”

I just about died laughing right there in the snow.

* * *

BROOKE

It simply wasn’t possible for us to have been made any more welcome by Caleb’s family. Hannah greeted us at the door with open arms before doing the introductions all around. They were all there waiting impatiently for us to arrive, but it felt more welcoming than anything. They were just happy to see Caleb again, and to meet his new wife. The fact I was British, only made for some fun jokes to break the ice.

I could see that the UK Blackstones had been blessed by the same good genetics as the US ones. Hannah’s brother, Ethan, had similar features to Caleb and his brothers, and just as easy on the eye.

Handsome men, every single one of them.

There was a darkness to Ethan though, almost unrecognizable at first, but definitely present. I could relate; the same dark shadows bounced around inside my head too. Seeing those shadows lift the instant his lovely wife, Brynne, or his baby girl came into view, gave me hope. Caleb did the same for me.

Little Laurel was such a gorgeous baby, and came right into my arms when I held them out. I needed to get in some baby practice because I’d have my own in less than six months, which was still a concept I was getting used to. I almost didn’t want to let Laurel go when it was time for her to have a nap, but it was a good excuse to ask if I could have a tour of the house.

Hannah was more than happy to take me around, and Zara, her miniature assistant-in-training who slayed me with her charm when she informed me that the stunning portrait on the staircase was painted by Sir Tristan Mallerton in the early 1840’s. When I asked her who the people in the painting were, she answered without missing a beat, “Sir Jeremy Greymont, Lady Georgina Greymont, and their children, Roderick and Anna-Marguerite.”

“Are you sure you’re really five? I don’t believe it. You know too much to be just five,” I teased.

She giggled up at me and nodded yes, swinging her hand clasped tightly to mine, as we toured the magnificent house I was sure my parents had visited on one of their many weekends to the country.

“How long has Hallborough House been operating as a B&B, Hannah?”

“Twelve years this coming spring.”

And twelve years made it a definite possibility.

“My parents loved to take weekends in the country. They went everywhere, and stayed in places just like this when I was away at school. I think they might have even come here, because my mother used to send me postcards of the places they visited. I remember there was a beautiful house in Somerset, and I still have the postcard somewhere.”

“We have postcards in the gift shop,” Zara said.

“Well, then I must look at the gift shop’s postcards and see if they are the same as mine.”

“I can do better than that for you,” Hannah said with a grin. “How long ago would your parents have come here?”

“It would have been about nine or ten years ago I’d guess. They were killed in a car crash seven years ago, so not recently,” I explained as they led me to a bright room with a garden view that housed the gift shop. I could imagine the ladies of years past using it as a sitting room because of the great light pouring in from the Gothic arched windows.

Hannah went to a bookshelf and began ticking through the volumes while I studied the postcards on a rack beside the desk. Some were of other sights in the area such as Kilve Beach, and a very old seaside church that reminded me of Stone Church on Blackstone Island where Caleb and I were married just a few weeks ago. I found one of the house that I thought could be the same as the postcard I had, but I couldn’t be certain.