Page 37 of The Vanished

“Montrose Lake House,” Gabe read aloud. “Where did you get this?”

“Nicole gave it to me when we were planning a weekend away for our anniversary.”

They’d decided to go to the Cotswolds instead, but Quinn had kept the card and had stuffed it into her pocket before leaving the house. Nicole and Kyle had escaped London during the pandemic and spent a few nights with Kyle’s friends, Sam and Reggie. The two men had purchased an old Tudor manor house near Keswick after Sam’s acting career fizzled out, and had opened a boutique hotel. The lakeside hotel would be the perfect place to hide out for a few days, since it was off the beaten path and no one would know that was where they’d gone, not even a holiday rentals agent. And if Sam and Reggie weren’t able to accommodate them, they might be able to recommend another hotel or rental in the area.

“All right,” Gabe said. “But I’m going to need a map. I’ll never find this place without satnav.”

“We can buy a map at any gift shop in Windermere.”

“Can we get more snacks?” Alex asked.

“I need to go to the toilet,” Mia wailed.

“Me too,” Max said.

Emma remained silent, music pumping in her ears as she stared fixedly at the scenic landscape that rushed past the car windows. The younger children saw this impromptu getaway as an opportunity to skip school and have an adventure, but Emma was old enough to know this trip for what it was, an escape, and she was worried, both for Logan and Max and for her own family.

The children were hungry, so they found a place to eat, purchased a map, several bottles of water, and some snacks, and continued on their way. Quinn tried the number on the card, but the calls went directly to voicemail, which was concerning. Perhaps the hotel had closed since Nicole and Kyle went there, but it was still worth a shot. And there were bound to be other guesthouses in the vicinity that might have room for walk-ins.

Emma perked up when they finally pulled up to the hotel. Several cars were lined up in the car park, and they saw a couple leaving the house and walking towards their vehicle. So the hotel was definitely open for business. As a mother, Quinn was relieved; she needed to know that the children would have a safe and comfortable place to sleep tonight. But as a historian, she couldn’t help but admire the architecture.

Constructed of solid gray stone, the Tudor building was imposing and faintly unwelcoming. Twin-peaked gables crowned the roof, and tall mullioned windows set deep within thick walls lent the façade a stately air. The leaded glass caught the late afternoon light, while stout chimneys hinted at multiple hearths within. Functional rather than sprawling, the house conveyed a sense of permanence and quiet authority, built by skilled craftsmen to endure for generations.

Carefully pruned rose bushes framed the front of the house, while blooming damson trees and sloe bushes dotted the grounds, lending them a natural, untamed air, so unlike the uncompromisingly geometric layouts of traditional Tudor gardens. Behind the house, a vast lake shimmered like mercury, and Quinn couldn’t help imagining how the place must have appeared centuries earlier, when it must have been the seat of some important local family.

“I’ll wait in the car,” Gabe offered.

Inside, the manor was a seamless blend of old and new, ancient and modern. Polished wood gleamed beneath recessed lighting, and the coffered ceiling appeared original to the house. Through an open door, the lounge revealed furnishings that looked comfortable but had obviously been chosen to complement rather than clash with the historic décor.

“Hello there,” a deep voice boomed from somewhere to Quinn’s left, and she recognized Sam Cross the moment he stepped forward to greet her. She’d seen him in a BBC adaptation of King Lear that had earned him a BAFTA nomination in the early 2000s.

Now, twenty years later, Sam reminded her of an aging Viking. His thick blond hair and beard were shot through with silver, his blue eyes crinkled warmly when he smiled, and his stout, barrel-chested frame would have looked perfectly authentic clad in leather and fur, a sword strapped to his hip.

Reggie, who had come to join them in the reception area, was the exact opposite of his partner. He was tall, Black, bald, and several years younger than Sam. Yet together they had the unmistakable air of an old married couple—two people, who, despite their obvious differences, had somehow grown to resemble one another.

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” Sam said when Quinn told him that the hotel had been enthusiastically recommended by Nicole and they’d need two rooms for several nights’ stay. “We would bend over backwards to accommodate friends of Kyle and Nicole, but we’re fully booked this weekend. I wish you would have called a few weeks ago. Or made a reservation online.”

“This was a spur-of-the moment getaway,” Quinn explained.

“Are you on the run from the law?” Sam asked with a throaty chuckle.

“Not quite,” Quinn replied, but the quip wasn’t far from the truth.

Reggie had yet to say anything, but his eyebrows lifted as if he had suddenly thought of something. “Sammy, what about the boathouse?” he suggested and turned to Quinn when Sam nodded approvingly. “It was recently remodeled and converted into a private rental, but we haven’t opened it up to guests yet.”

“Why not?” Quinn asked, sensing there might be a hitch.

“A pipe in the master bath was leaking, so the water had to be temporarily shut off. The plumber is coming back next week.” Sam rolled his eyes dramatically, as if to suggest that plumbers and contractors the world over made the same promises—and rarely kept them. “But the second bathroom is operational and is equipped with a shower stall. We would, of course, give you a discount to offset the inconvenience,” he added smoothly.

“We’ll take it,” Quinn said and felt a wave of relief. At least accommodation was sorted. They’d deal with the rest once they were settled.

“Splendid,” Sam agreed and smiled winsomely. “There are two bedrooms, and we can sort a folding bed for the little boy. There’s a fully operational kitchen, but you would have to bring in your own supplies. I’m afraid we can’t accommodate so many additional people for dinner, but you’re welcome to join us for breakfast. We do not serve lunch.” He smiled apologetically. “Is that all right?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Quinn assured him. And it was. They would have everything they needed, and most importantly retain their privacy.

“I’ll get the keys,” Reggie said and disappeared down the corridor. He returned with a pair of old-fashioned brass keys. “I’ll take you over, shall I?”

“Yes, please.”