The SUV turned and August sat up in the back seat. "Wow, are those gates? Where are we going?"
Tall, black iron gates framed by granite pillars blocked the road. Tenn pressed a remote clipped to his sun visor and the gates swung open. Turning back to grin at August, Tenn said, "I told you our house was practically a castle."
Tapping the screen on his dashboard, Tenn pulled up a phone number labeled ‘Griffen’ and connected a call. A distracted, sleepy voice answered.
"Tenn?"
"You at breakfast?"
A muffled laugh. "Not exactly."
"Sorry to break up your morning, but we have a problem. I just drove through the gates, need you to meet me downstairs."
"Be down by the time you get here." The call disconnected and Tenn didn't explain. I didn't ask. We'd be at the house soon enough.
I'd only seen aerial pictures of Heartstone Manor, and those hadn't done the place justice. In the little research I'd managed before we left, I'd learned that Heartstone Manor had been built in the late 1800s by one of Tenn's ancestors to ease the homesickness of his English bride. The family had never opened it to tourists, never allowed it to be photographed.
One of the few Gilded Age mansions still used as a private home, it was completely inaccessible to the public. The art historian in me was salivating at the chance to see the inside. I was prepared to be wowed.
Wowed didn't cover it. The narrow, paved drive wound through the forest, the asphalt crumbling in places, weeds threatening to take over the road. In some spots, it looked like some effort had been made to trim back the growth, but in others, green shoots pushed right through the hard, black surface.
The house itself appeared out of the trees between one blink and the next, so large it was hard to imagine we hadn't seen it from the road. Three stories of granite, wings jutting out on each end, Heartstone Manor was majestic and looked oddly abandoned. Some of the windows were lit, proving it wasn't empty, and the grass between the granite blocks paving the courtyard was neatly trimmed, but where there should have been landscaping or flowers around the house there was only bare dirt. It gave the house an unfinished feeling out of place on a home so old.
Tenn noticed my look. "My father let the place go after the rest of us moved out. My oldest brother Griffen inherited the house. He's working on getting it back into shape."
"Oh," was my brilliant response, my brain too busy processing to talk. "How many of you live here? If you all moved out…"
"All of us. It's a long story." He pulled the SUV to a stop in front of steps leading to tall, iron-strapped wood doors. Jumping out, he had a word with the guy who'd driven my car from the Inn. The driver jumped out, handed Tenn the keys, and disappeared around the side of the house, my bags from the trunk in hand.
I watched my belongings disappear with him, feeling things sliding even more out of my control. I might have gotten myself inside the Manor gates, but I was completely cut off, at their mercy, and I had August to protect. When I got my hands on Thatcher…
August let Tenn help him out of the SUV, climbing the steps alone and waiting for us at the top. Tenn came around and opened my door, smoothly unlocking the cuff from the handle and securing it back on his wrist. Crap.
I knew how to pick a lock, handcuffs included, but without my set of picks I was screwed. I had a feeling Tenn wasn't going to just hand over my things. Added to that complication, I could pick a lock with two hands. Picking a lock with only my left hand? That, I'd never practiced. Why would I?
I'd taught myself to pick locks partly for fun and partly to liberate the household funds my ex liked to siphon off for his poker games. Someone had to make sure there was food on the table and the power stayed on. It sure as hell wasn't going to be him. None of that made me a career criminal or a master locksmith. I'd managed to open the back door to the cottage, driven by desperation, but that was the apex of my skills.
Even if I got the cuffs off, where was I going to go? I was miles from town. Tenn had my car keys, and there was no way August could walk out of here even if I got us away from Tenn. We were trapped. I looked up at the imposing facade of Heartstone Manor and at Tenn, a bemused smile on his face as he led me to where August stood at the top of the steps. Remembering the police chief promising to check in on me, I let out a breath.