Page 7 of Valentine Nook (The Valentine Nook Chronicles #1)

The Burlington Estate Group was established in 1511 by the first Duke of Oxfordshire, and over five hundred years later, it owns approximately six hundred thousand acres of land across the United Kingdom, Europe, Asia Pacific, and North America, as well as business holdings in property, technology, and sustainability.

As the current—and eleventh—Duke of Oxfordshire, I am the head.

At thirty-four years old, I’m responsible for the salaries of close to twenty thousand people globally. While there’s a CEO for the Burlington Estate Group, along with CEOs for each of the subsidiaries within the business, I prefer to stay closer to home.

I have the legacy of Burlington to keep intact, which includes fifteen thousand acres of Oxfordshire countryside and Valentine Nook.

It keeps me immensely busy, and I want to be able to concentrate on that instead of who I’m going to marry. Or not marry.

Legacy is exactly the reason I’m calling James, along with why I’m a little more tense than usual this morning.

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

“Have you got five minutes? ”

“Yes, now?”

“Yes.”

“Certainly. I’ll be right over.”

One of the best things about James is his appreciation for a sense of urgency.

I imagine him jumping into the Land Rover outside the staff offices on the other side of Burlington Estate, zipping around the track, and passing the polo fields and the dairy before reaching the lane, which takes him straight to Burlington Hall’s side door.

By my estimation, he’ll be here in less than fifteen minutes, which gives me enough time to get a coffee.

Walking into the kitchen, I find Alex sitting on one of the stools at the breakfast counter, a piece of toast dangling from his mouth as he turns the page on the Financial Times .

It’s the first time I’ve seen him this morning.

He usually comes over much earlier for breakfast before heading to the estate offices to check on the staff, but he’s leaving for Hong Kong this afternoon.

While all of my brothers work for the family in some capacity, I work with Alex most closely.

He manages our overseas portfolio across Europe, the Americas, and Asia Pacific, making investments globally and primarily acquiring land for sustainable agriculture.

His trip today will be to check on the progress of our work in the Far East, as well as the quarterly earnings reports.

“Anything interesting in there?”

He shakes his head, removing the piece of toast from his mouth as he does. “Not really.”

I pick up a cup set out for breakfast and pour out a coffee. I’m toying with whether to tell him what I’m planning, but I don’t want to be talked out of it.

“Where’s Mum?”

“Not sure. In the garden probably. ”

I peer out of the window, thinking I might catch a glimpse of her, but I don’t see anything.

“Morning, James,” Alex booms, and I spin around and see James striding in.

“Good morning, my lord,” he replies and turns to me. “Your Grace.”

“James.”

He stands there staring at me, but he knows better than to ask what I need him for, especially with Alex present.

“By the way, I passed Lord Hendricks on the way over. He said to tell you he’s gone to check on the new calves.”

We’re coming to the end of birthing season.

Over the past two months, one hundred of our heifers gave birth, and only a couple are due over the next week or so.

Hendricks, along with half the farm staff, have been working through the nights as the calves have arrived.

Thankfully, they’ve all been healthy and sound.

Once I’m done here, I’ll pop in to check on them too.

“Did he find Churchill?”

James nods. “Yes, he was in the orchard again. I’ll get the fencing around there checked today.”

“You’d be better having Mrs. Winston’s fencing checked. That’s where he escapes from.”

“Don’t curb his freedom,” Alex mumbles, stuffing the last piece of toast into his mouth. “He’s having fun. Mrs. Winston’s so boring, and he’s all on his own there. Goats need company.”

“Then it’ll be up to you to deal with Mum when she discovers all her trees have been stripped,” I grumble.

“Hmm.” Alex ponders. “On second thought?—”

“Exactly.”

I gesture to James that we leave before Alex asks what we’re doing, but he’s gone back to his breakfast and whatever he was reading in the paper.

James follows me into my study and silently takes the document I pick up from my desk to hand him .

“I need you to witness me signing this.”

If he notices the silvery snail trail, he doesn’t say anything, although perhaps that’s why he’s frowning. It could also be a frown of concern because I know what’s written on the document in his hand will come as a surprise to him.

“Lando—”

“I just need you to witness me signing it. I don’t need a lecture or your approval,” I snap. James raises one of his thick brows. “And I don’t need you to try to talk me out of it.”

“Of course.”

It’s the way he elongates the vowels that has me answering the question he didn’t ask.

“It’s none of my mother’s business. I’m the duke. I get to say who inherits my title.”

James drops his head with a shake, and his eyes scan over the words again. “You know there are rules in place to prohibit this from happening.”

“Which is why I want to change them.” I flick the paper he’s still holding that says exactly that and let out a loud sigh, scratching through my beard.

As much as I love my “fuck you, Caroline” beard, I have to admit it’s become itchy. It needs a trim at the very least.

“Lando—”

“If something happens to me, Alex is next in line to inherit, but he’s only two years younger than I am. We need the next generation to be cemented in before we’re too old and decrepit to do anything about it. Max should be the rightful heir after me. He’s the first grandchild.”

There. I’ve said it out loud. This plan kills two birds with one stone.

Confirms the heir to Burlington and, by doing so, gets my mother off my back.

If an heir is in place, I don’t need to find a wife like we’re still living in the sixteenth century .

Does it seem drastic? Probably. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Have you spoken to Hendricks?”

“Not yet.”

This particular part has my usual nerves of steel jittering slightly. Out of all my brothers, Hendricks is the most laid-back, the least unruffled—you’d have to be with Miles as your twin—but I’m certain this will likely get his blood boiling.

Still, needs must.

“Don’t you think you ought to? Legally, you have to, seeing as Max is his son.”

“Yes, and I will. But I wanted everything in place first.”

He stares unblinking. I can tell he’s concerned, and truthfully, as the closest thing I’ve had to a father in the past twenty years, I’m amazed he’s not already yelling at me that I’m making a mistake.

“You’re writing off your future.”

Close enough.

“I’m not. I’m taking the pressure off all eventualities and buying myself some peace and quiet. If I ensure the future of Burlington and hand it to Max, then everything else is irrelevant.”

James drops the document on my desk. “This is imprudent.”

“I disagree.”

“Look, consider sleeping on it a little longer. Please, Lando?—”

“No. If you won’t sign it, then I’ll find someone who will.”

He remains silent but pulls a pen out of his blazer pocket. I’m aware of his disapproval with every letter I scrawl at the bottom of the page, and the moment I’m done, he snatches it away and signs on the dotted line next to my signature.

“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. “Would you please courier it to Arthur?”

Arthur is our family solicitor. Just like everything else at Burlington, we’ve inherited him from his father and his father before him.

His firm has served our family for one hundred and fifty years.

I see him once a month when I head to London for monthly meetings, but I was there last week to collect this document, and I have no plans to leave Valentine Nook again quite so soon.

“Certainly.” He turns and walks out without another word.

That went about as well as could be expected, though I really hope he doesn’t mention it to my mother before I do because that wouldn’t be ideal.

My cheeks puff as I exhale loudly and turn back to the windows.

Following the much-needed rain yesterday, the sky is cloudless and a glorious shade of blue.

The stacks of papers on my desk are crying for my attention, as are the dozen unreturned calls—most likely about the summer fair—but after the last hour, I need to reset my day.

I’m tussling what to do when my phone beeps from an incoming message.

JEREMY: Can we talk?

I stare at the screen, fighting the urge to punch something. It’s been six months since I last spoke to him, and even then, it was only a cursory fuck off .

Instead of reiterating my stance, I take a deep breath, delete it, and change into a pair of running shorts.

I’m definitely not doing any work now.

Five minutes later, I’m sprinting down the drive. Cutting through the first field on my left where Thunder has been turned out, I stop to give him a quick scratch and a Polo, then continue on my way. Aside from working Thunder around the land, running is the best way to check on my property.

I can go where the Land Rovers and tractors can’t. I can see where hedgerows need repairing or fences are down. Where the cows can sneak out or goats can sneak in. It helps me feel more than a CEO when I’m actively contributing to Burlington’s mammoth upkeep.

I run until I arrive in the one place I come when I need to be alone.

Just as I’ve always done since I was a child, I strip off completely and dive into the water until I touch the pale pink rock that’s in the middle of the pool. It’s a little ritual I’ve had whenever I swim here and the first thing I do.

If anything could convince me magic exists, it’s this place.

The water should be freezing cold, yet it’s not, even in the winter.

It’s crystal clear, and as it’s quite warm, I stand under the waterfall, allowing its power to pummel my shoulders, releasing the persistent tension I’ve been carrying. It also helps me think.

I have a lot of thinking to do—about my life, my future, about whether I’m doing the right thing. About what my father would have done and whether I’m living up to his expectations. Whether he would be proud.

It’s where I came to grieve after he died.

It’s where I came to lick my wounds after my marriage ended before it began.

Unfortunately for me, I don’t get to think today.

Suddenly, my peace is shattered by a loud gasp followed by a deafening screech.

A blond woman is on the other side of the pool frozen in place, hand clasped to her chest with blue eyes as wide as dinner plates as they scan over me in horror.

Her hair is scraped back from her face and wrapped in a messy knot on top of her head. Loose wisps of gold catch the light and pull my attention to her immaculate bone structure, peachy smooth skin, and full, plump mouth that’s currently dropped open.

She’s wearing the tiniest white bathing suit I’ve ever seen; the material is cut so high on her thighs that it makes her legs go on forever. Toned bronzed skin that, even from this distance, I can see how soft it is, how lithe she is.

She’s fucking beautiful.

I’ve never seen another person here in my life. For a split second, I wonder if she’s real or if my brain is short-circuiting through the haze of spray.

As I wipe the water from my eyes, I remember I’m stark naked. Before I can say anything or cover myself, she darts away back down the path leading toward Bluebell Cottage.

So that’s my tenant.

Fan-fucking-tastic.