Above the early-nineteenth- century mantel in Fred Comer and Mark Manoff’s living room hangs a portrait of the ninth Duke of Northumberland, elegantly adorned in the khaki battle dress of the Grenadier Guards. With its nod to the Colonial aesthetic that typified British gentlemen’s clubs, the living area is undoubtedly a place where the duke himself would happily hang his slouch hat.

Here, a civilized blend of rugged and gentile décor reigns: a zebra-skin rug pops against a coral Kinsey Marable reading chair, an arc of Black Forest roebuck antlers crowns the wall space above a Queen Anne sideboard, a grouping of Chinese jars perch atop a bookcase across from an imposing Cape buffalo trophy. “The buffalo trophy was the first thing in here,” explains Comer. “So it, along with the duke’s portrait, which is five and a half feet tall, lends that clubby look and masculine scale that we were after.”

Residents of Washington, D.C., Comer and Manoff, who both work in publishing, first discovered the Northern Neck in 1994 after buying an eighteenth-century farmhouse near Urbana, located on the bordering Middle Peninsula, as a weekend retreat. It wasn’t long before they relocated to Irvington, lured by the potential of the home perched on the tall banks of sleepy Carter’s Creek. Despite its waterfront appeal, the house, a dilapidated, two-bedroom rancher built by a local waterman in 1953, needed lots of work and a hefty dose of creative vision. “It was one of those sad little unimaginative ranchers that, unfortunately, there are far too many of in this country,” says Comer. “But we were sold on the location, which had amazing, long views of the creek.”

With the help of Kilmarnock architect George Thomasson, the pair set about transforming the mediocre into the magical. They brought charm to the façade by parging and painting the brick, which lent an aged appearance, while the addition of a cedar shake roof brought dimension and character. Inside, the floor plan was enlarged to include five bedrooms and five and a half bathrooms.

Throughout the three-year renovation, Comer took the lead as interior designer. “My opinions are heard,” Manoff says with a chuckle, “but I know that Fred’s the tastemaker. When we lived in an apartment in Washington, one night I came home from work, and he had thrown all my furniture in the dumpster and redecorated the entire place.”

“He said, ‘I like it!’” recalls Comer. “And I thought, ‘This is going to work.’”

The kitchen, which shares an open floor plan with the living room, is Manoff’s domain. Cabinets are cleverly fronted with grillwork, which prevents guests from having to hunt for what they need. The custom-made island was distressed to appear antique, while two dishwashers make for easy cleanup during weekends, when the four guestrooms are typically full of visiting friends. Vintage cookbooks, from Some Favorite Southern Recipes of The Dutchess of Windsor to Trader Vic’s Helluva Man’s Cookbook, sit over the porcelain farmhouse sink. “When I didn’t want to study in college, I would cook,” jokes Manoff.

Daffodil season marks the official opening of the porch, which adjoins the living room. Here, plush couches and a small dining table overlook life on the creek, where the pair docks their three boats: a Chris-Craft, a Cape Dory Typhoon, and a Boston Whaler.

Understated glamour is the theme of the master bedroom. An eighteenth-century Chinese bench fronts the bed, while white and tan linens pop against buff and bone appointments. The French doors incorporate the tranquility of the creek and open-air pool house into the space. “We live out there all summer long,” says Comer. “We come in to cook a meal and then run right back out. There’s very little reason to go inside in the summer. It’s all you need.”

Summer days are dedicated to lounging by the black slate pool, while summer nights mean gourmet dinners in the pool house, complete with working fireplace. Above the dining room table, accessorized with 1950s Chinese Chippendale faux-bamboo chairs, hangs an iron lantern rigged with a pulley system that makes it simple to light the candles inside.

“The space really became our dining room, which is what the house was lacking,” explains Comer. “When the boats are on the water and the pool is open, why would you want to be anywhere else?”