Under the Stairs

Published by: eXtasy Books

Author : Lark Westerly

ISBN :978-1-4874-4019-0

Page :165

Word Count :46904

Publication Date :2024-11-15

Series : Tanqueray#4

Heat Level :

Available Formats : Under the Stairs (epub) , Under the Stairs (mobi) , Under the Stairs (pdf)

Category : Fantasy Romance , Paranormal Romance , Romance , What's New

Product Code: 978-1-4874-4019-0

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Robert and Rupert Tanqueray had always been as close as twins could be. But first Rupert, then Robert learned something that would change their lives forever.

The five young Tanquerays live at Tanqueray Manor on the Isle of Summer, next door to Zerenity, their aged and loving aunt. Zerenity has always been a constant in their lives. When she goes to glory, she leaves a legacy that has far-reaching consequences. Ancella has found the love of her life, Guy is changing quickly, Horry has a new best friend he’ll not see for a while, and the twins are unhappily estranged. What is wrong with Robert and Rupert? Only they know, and they have no idea how to mend it. The enigmatic piper, Tamhas a’Phiobaire, meets Robert and gives him a peculiar hint. But perhaps the answer to their problem lies under the stairs.

This is Robert’s story.

Robert Tanqueray felt out of sorts.

That was an odd expression, he thought. Was one ever in sorts? Once, he would have taken up this conundrum in an amiable discussion with his twin, but he and Rupert weren’t on those terms now. They weren’t at what the old tales called daggers drawn. Never that. It was more of a polite cool which distressed them both.

Robert found it odd to be the only person at Tanqueray Manor. Three years ago, it would have been bustling with life, with Breton and Célène Tanqueray and their five children, along with Ancella’s sweetheart, Pomeroy Harcourt and her best friend Emelie Venables—though rarely at the same time. Then there was Aunt Zerenity in the ash-key wing, the warm heart of the family where anyone could go for solace or a bit of mischief. Perhaps best of all, Ancella’s dog, Glory, would be prancing and bouncing about the place, scattering joy and confusion in her wake.

But that was three years ago.

Today, Breton and Célène were visiting Ancella to spend time with their grandchild, Ankaret Horatia de Libre, the new love of their lives.

Horry, the youngest, had ridden off to Fitzpatrick Lodge to do who-knew-what with his friend John. John was of age and Horry decidedly was not, but that made no difference to their camaraderie.

Guy, three years older than Horry, had gone to spend the day with his friend Loveday Campion. A friend, as Guy emphasised whenever Célène started looking restive. Not a sweetheart. A friend. Loveday’s maman, Noelle, was no better pleased than Célène.

Rupert was—elsewhere.

That left Robert alone at the manor. There were all sorts of things he could be doing, but, being out of sorts, he did none of them. He wandered down to the stream in case Rupert was there.

Robert knew Rupert was unhappy. They were identical twins, after all. Rupert’s hair was a little darker and his eyes a little lighter than Robert’s, making him more a person of visual contrast, but even their family sometimes had trouble telling them apart.

Robert thought Rupert was hurting more than he was, but he supposed they were both powerless to do anything much about it. Dropping a platter was a small thing, but unless one was unusually alert, it was mostly impossible to prevent it from cracking when it hit the ground.

Their maman might be able to. Célène’s responses were as quick and decided as lightning. It was unfortunate that none of her five children had inherited that whiplash speed and certainty. They had other talents.

When the first tiny cracks appeared in the twins’ comfortable pairing, Robert had barely noticed. In fact, thinking back, he could hardly say which hairline crack was the first.

Maybe it was when ancient Aunt Zerenity went to glory, and the Tanqueray family had to remake itself in her absence. They all grieved their fine grand dame, although she’d instructed them not to.

Zerenity Trésor Tanqueray had not been born to the blood, but she’d borne the name with joy for eighty years. None of the Tanquerays could remember a time when she was not at the manor.

She had been married to Célène’s Great-uncle Guilbert, but since his passing into glory and their daughter Mantilla’s much earlier departure from Île d'eté, she had lived in the ash-key wing of the manor alone, a wise, gleeful, and seemingly permanent presence. Even Célène, whose talent for management was as pronounced as her talent for speed, had loved Aunt Zerenity, who never interfered but could always be relied on for kindness and advice.

Yes, Aunt Zerenity’s going had brought pain to everyone, but perhaps it wasn’t the blow that cracked the solidarity of the twins.

Robert, thinking back as he peered into the stream, thought maybe the blow had been hardly a blow at all, but the merest flick of the fingers on the day he had answered a question he assumed was put to both of them because Rupert was distracted with a crumbling bite of toast.

October 1926

Rupert was the elder of the twins, though by only a few minutes, so Robert generally let him answer first. Aunt Zerenity said that was best, although she didn’t exactly say why.

“Twins run in tandem my dear, not coupled up like a pair of carriage horses. If they don’t…it can be disastrous. Take it from someone who knows.”

Aunt Zerenity often came out with a pinch of wisdom like that, but she’d never elaborate. The Tanquerays knew she’d been born on the far-off island of Manteau, and they knew she’d arrived at the manor when she was just of age, but she said almost nothing of her former life.

Ancella, who was the eldest Tanqueray child and four years older than the twins, loved ballads, romances, and flowers. She used to make up stories about Aunt Zerenity’s early years. Maybe she was an orphan or had run away from someone she didn’t want to marry. Though even Ancella had to allow that was unlikely. If a damsel didn’t want to marry, she had only to say so. Besides, Aunt Zerenity was likely not an orphan, because much of her wisdom had to do with getting along with one’s relations.

Robert generally heeded Aunt Zerenity’s bits of advice, but this time, when she was no longer there to reinforce her warning, he forgot.

Besides, it didn’t matter who answered a question first. The twins liked the same things, wanted the same things, and would likely have used the same words to respond in any case.

Célène, who had asked the question, held up a hand to silence Robert before focusing on Rupert.

“Rupert?”

Rupert swallowed the toast that had distracted him and flicked his fingers to conjure away the remaining crumbling crusts.