Barton Mistletoe and Mayhem

Yuletide at Castlewood Manor
1. Auflage 2019
ISBN: 978-1-5439-8931-1
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, Band 1, 312 Seiten

Reihe: Mistletoe and Mayhem

A family's legacy, a mother's anguish, deadly revenge, and bridezilla wannabes are set to rendezvous around the Christmas tree this Yuletide season. Rumor has it a feature film is in the works for the hit period drama series, Castlewood Manor, as the PR plans go into overdrive. History is about to be righted by royal decree, which may have a devastating impact not only to the British/American family relations in the Lancaster household, but might also jeopardize the future of the Castlewood Manor production on the estate. American heiress Gemma Lancaster Phillips, PhD, is facing a unique crossroads in her life-marrying the man she loves and becoming the first American marchioness in British nobility as she teeters on the edge of accepting the family peerage and title from her cousin, Evan. Father Christmas has his hands full as tragedy, royal drama, conniving foes, and meddling friends and family threaten to bring this 'Tis the Season' to a fiery and disastrous end.

Veronica Cline Barton earned graduate degrees in both engineering and business and has had successful careers in the software and technology industries. Her lifelong love affair with British cozy murder mysteries inspired her to embark on a literary career. The Crown for Castlewood Manor is the first book in the My American Almost Royal Cousin Series, followed by Cast, Crew, & Carnage; the Filming of Castlewood Manor; Deadly Receptions: The Debut of Castlewood Manor; Mistletoe and Mayhem, Yuletide at Castlewood Manor; Double Trouble: Showtime at Castlewood Manor; Twins in the City: Playtime at Castlewood Manor; Blood on the Vines: Harvest at Castlewood Manor; Murder on the Runway: Fashion Week at Castlewood Manor; and Behind the Scenes: The Exhibition of Castlewood Manor, the latest book in the series. When not traveling and spinning mystery yarns, she lives in California with her husband, Bruce, and her two cats, Daisy and Ebbie.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Barton, Veronica Cline

Leseproben

Chapter 1

Winter Chills

The last flickers of light from the early December sky were fading rapidly as I gazed out the French doors of my office at Cherrywood Hall. Darkness fell early these days. The rain-laced winds whipped at the North Sea, creating whitecaps on the waves careening toward the cliffs. I could hear their roar as they crashed against the rocks below, back and forth, a never-ending rhythm that mesmerized me as I stared at the deep blue water. Winter was coming, chilling everything in its path.

“Hey darling.” Kyle walked across the office and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. “You look as if you’re a million miles away.”

I smiled as I looked into his emerald-green eyes, running my fingers through his jet-black mane, still damp from the drizzle outside. My fiancé, Kyle runs the estate operations here at Cherrywood Hall. He proposed to me during a surprise stopover in Iceland on our return trip from America a few months back. We had snorkeled in the icy waters of the Silfra Fissure where he popped the big question in the same spot where his parents became betrothed years before. As he slipped his mother’s engagement ring on my finger, our teeth chattering, we vowed our promises of eternal love to one another. I thought it was one of the most romantic moments I had ever experienced, despite the frosty temperature.

“I was, Kyle. The waves had me hypnotized. Just look at them, I think the winds will have them crashing all the way up to the sea path before long,” I said, chuckling.

He gently cupped my chin in his hand and kissed me, his soft lips caressing my lips and cheeks. I tightened my grip around his waist, pressing him into me as our passion grew.

“Gemma, Kyle, come on darlings, it’s time for cocktails… oh,” Mama said, barging into my office, swinging her red, velvet wrap around her shoulders. She stopped abruptly when she saw our embrace. “Sorry darlings, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Brrr, it’s absolutely freezing in here. Come on now, Margaret is waiting for us downstairs.”

I gave Kyle a furtive glance, my brow tensing. This was the first evening we would be together in Cherrywood Hall since my Cousin Evan’s rescue. Aunt Margaret had been terribly upset the past few months. Evan’s kidnapping and torture had taken a huge emotional toll on her, not knowing if her son was alive or dead. Her charming, witty personality had all but disappeared, overtaken by her grief. We hadn’t had a chance to discuss his situation as a family here at Cherrywood since Evan was airlifted from South Africa to the private care facility in London. She had stayed by his side morning ‘til night, holding his hand as he lay in a coma---his brutalized body slowly healing from the weeks of torture he endured at the hands of his kidnappers. The doctors did not know when, or if, Evan would ever regain consciousness.

I broke from our embrace and walked over to Mama to kiss her cheeks. “How is she? Is there any news?”

Mama shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. Kyle and I linked arms with her on either side as we walked slowly down the stairs to the study on the first floor, a favorite gathering spot for evening cocktails before dinner. Mama was staying at Cherrywood Hall with me through the holidays before season two filming of Castlewood Manor began. I was glad to have her company. She always managed to keep everyone’s spirits up with her showbiz banter. We needed it, especially now. Everyone was tense and uncertain these days. Without Evan, would our family ever be the same?

We crossed the grand hallway and made our way into the study. Aunt Margaret was sitting on the sofa, gazing down at the flames blazing in the fireplace. She rose when she saw us and gave a guarded smile. I broke away and went to her, hugging her close. I could feel the tension in her body and for a moment heard her whimper as we embraced. She pulled back as she gently patted my cheeks. She walked over to Mama and Kyle, greeting them with hugs.

“Let’s sit down,” she said, fluffing the sofa cushions. “Kyle, would you please act as bartender for us this evening? I would like a sherry please.”

Mama and I sat down on either side of her.

“Of course, Lady Margaret. Jillian, Gemma, what would you like ladies?”

“Champagne please for me,” Mama said, her eyes twinkling.

“Gin and St. Germain for me, please, with a splash of lemon juice.”

Kyle smiled at me and winked. The gin and St. Germain cocktail had become a favorite of mine the past few months. Kyle’s project manager at the estate, architect Stephanie ‘Steph’ Rutherford, was overseeing a new business venture for us here at Cherrywood Hall, the building of a gin distillery. We were expanding our liquor ventures from sparkling wines and sherry to now include gin. The building design had been completed and permits were in hand. Construction would start in the next few months once the worst of the winter weather was over.

Kyle brought us our libations on a silver tray, bowing with a flourish as he handed us our drinks, sitting down next to me when everyone was served.

“I think we need a toast,” I said, holding my martini glass in front of me. Mama, Aunt Margaret and Kyle scooted closer, raising their glasses. “To Evan, may his recovery be thorough and swift. Please let him know his family loves and misses him.”

“Hear, hear,” we said somberly, clinking our glasses and settling back in our seats. Mama gently stroked Aunt Margaret’s arm.

“Yummy, the gin and St. Germain martini tastes divine, Sir Kyle. I think you’ve mastered just the right combination.” I kissed the tip of my forefinger and touched his nose, giving him an impish grin.

Kyle was knighted by the queen last spring for the technology and renovation innovations he developed for use in many of Britain’s finest manor house estates. His architectural degree and modernization projects at Cherrywood Hall, as the estate manager, had received global recognition from preservation and historical groups. He loved the older estates and was constantly looking for new ways to preserve their beauty and modernize them with minimal impact on their classical designs.

So much had changed in the year and a half since I had moved from my cozy beach cottage in Malibu. I ventured to England to assist my cousin, Evan Lancaster, the 8th Marquess of Kentshire and owner of our ancestral home, Cherrywood Hall, in a set-location competition for the new, hit period drama television series, Castlewood Manor. Our estate was selected from three manor houses, much to our delight after a brutal competition. Season one filming was completed this past spring despite the efforts of some who wanted to stop the show before its first airing.

The global premiere of Castlewood Manor this past summer and its subsequent wins at the acclaimed Telly Tiara award show a few months back had cemented the series’ future, or at least for the time being. The television business could change in the blink of an eye and Rosehill Productions was always looking for new ways to promote and expand the series. Season two filming would begin after New Year’s. My mama, Jillian Phillips, was one of the leading actresses in the period drama, playing the role of the American best friend of the queen, showcasing their dilemmas as they raised their daughters and searched for suitable husbands in the halls and grounds of elegant palaces. Mama had received a best actress Telly Tiara for her performance, her joy and celebrations cut short when we learned of Evan’s kidnapping.

I should take some time to introduce my family, since it’s a bit different from everyday American and British lineage, and somewhat relevant to the Castlewood Manor series. My name is Gemma Alexandra Lancaster Phillips, and I’m a twenty-eight-year-old California girl, born and bred. I had been awarded my PhD degree a few months before I arrived at Cherrywood Hall last year, my dissertation largely based upon my family’s heritage.

My American Lancaster family had been one of the first industrial giants to make huge fortunes as the railways pushed west across the United States. My great-great-grandfather was Patrick Lancaster, an entrepreneur who’d had the brilliant idea that the railways were going to need iron and labor—and lots of it.

I emphasize American Lancaster family because Patrick’s great-great-grandfather, John Lancaster, had left his ancestral home in England to come over to the American colonies, as they were then known, just before the Revolutionary War. John was the second son of the Marquess of Kentshire, James Lancaster, who lived on the family estate, Cherrywood Hall. Being the second son, the rules of primogeniture prevailed, John would inherit nothing. He thus split with the British family and made the trip to America to begin a new life.

Patrick had two daughters: Phillipa, affectionately known as Pippa, my great-great-aunt; and Lillian, my great-grandmother. Pippa went to England in 1912 loaded with a generous multi-million-dollar dowry Patrick had bestowed upon her. She married her distant Lancaster family cousin Charles Edward Lancaster, who was the 4th Marquess of...