Page 102 of Judging Duke

Once there, we’d sat on the bed.

“Open it.” He’d gestured to the letter sitting in my lap.

“I can’t. What if it’s something bad?” I bit my lip. What on earth could it say?

“It won’t be. Now open the damn letter, or I will.” He’d reached for it, and I’d moved it out of his way.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

Using a butter knife, I’d slit the envelope and pulled out the letter.

It was from a solicitor, not one I recognised.

I scanned the words, reading them twice, not believing what I was reading. That couldn’t be right.

“Oh my God,” I said, handing it off to Simon. “They left me the house in France.”

“What?” He took it from me, mumbling as he read the part of the will pertaining to me.

Upon Barbara’s death, Cyril took ownership of the house, understanding it would be passed to me upon his death. Duke Anders. A two-bit masseur.

Why would she have done that?

“I can’t accept it.” I’d said to Simon, fully intending to hand it back to the family.

“It says here that it was Barbara’s wish that you take sole ownership of the house. It’s all yours, Duke. You heard what Cyril said. She thought of you as the son she never had.”

It had taken a while for the news to settle in. We’d spoken to the family, thinking they’d contest the will, but they had no interest in the house and were more than happy to carry out the wishes of Barbara and Cyril and leave it to me.

We debated selling the property, but knowing this was the place where it had all come together for us, there was no way we could part with it.

So, here we were, three months later, overlooking the place that had so captured our hearts. It’d taken a while, but we’d made the decision to move here permanently. We’d read up on the rules and regulations and were eager to start our new life.

Simon was more than happy to move, securing a gallery in a nearby village in the hills. We’d visited knowing it would be the perfect place, surrounded by similar galleries and Michelin-star restaurants.

“What’s your plan for tomorrow?” I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling the warm sun on my face.

“I thought we should just relax for a few days before getting into the swing of things.” He kissed my temple and I sighed contentedly. “Your new job doesn’t start until next week, and it’s a couple of days until the gallery opening. We could go take a look and see what progress they’ve been making on the refit.”

“Sounds like a plan. I still feel like I should pinch myself. That this is all a dream. How did we get this lucky?” It still hadn’t sunk in.

“I don’t honestly know, but I’m glad this is where we ended up. It’d always been a dream of mine to retire here, and now I get to do that with you by my side.”

How had I fallen so hard? Simon meant everything to me and I couldn’t imagine a life without him in it.

“How’s the French coming along?” I moved to sit on the terrace wall, facing him.

“Urgh, don’t ask. Just knowing how to ask where the toilet is will not help me sell pictures.”

I laughed, but my French wasn’t much better.

We’d both started lessons after deciding to move, but it was taking one hell of a long time.

With Pierre’s help, I’d secured a position at a nearby spa, similar to the one where I’d met Simon, but the clientele at this one was far more exclusive. Back to working with the rich and famous.

Having the villa was one thing, but we still needed to cover upkeep.

“You know, we could turn this into a hotel,” Simon suggested, his finger tapping his lips. He was always thinking of a new scheme or other. “Plenty of rooms, secluded beach, beautiful weather. What do you think?”

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