The Guardian Duke: A Forgotten Castles Novel Page 5

  "Yes, of course. Though I suspect she has already rang for it. Check on the refreshments, will you?"

  "Yes, Your Grace." He bowed and marched down the hall toward the back kitchens.

  Gabriel turned toward the salon, took a fortifying breath, and entered. He came to an abrupt stop as his mother rose, her hand to her mouth, her face gone sheet white, as if seeing someone waking from the dead, and his sisters, two of them at least, running and throwing themselves at him. His eldest sister, Charlotte, burst into tears from the other side of the room.

  He was, for a second, glad he couldn't hear them.

  "No need for all this caterwauling," he intoned in his best duke's voice. The sound of his voice only served to incite them, however. Mary clung to his arm while his youngest sister, Jane, looked up from her place at his other side and asked, "Can you hear me, Gabriel? Can you hear anything at all?"

  It was too much. With gentle but firm hands, Gabriel pushed them back from him. "Please, ladies, sit down and let us discuss this without all the hysterics. I assure you I feel perfectly well."

  Mary nodded and took hold of Jane's hand, dragging her back toward the gold-and-blue-striped settee. His mother collapsed back into her chair, dabbing her cheeks with an elegant handkerchief. Charlotte appeared unable to move, so Gabriel strode forward, held out his own handkerchief to her, led her to a Louis XIV gilded chair, and pressed her back into it. She seemed on the verge of needing smelling salts, an alarming fact as Charlotte was the stalwart one of the sisters.

  Gabriel turned away from them to collect himself, walked to the sideboard, and poured a glass of water from the pitcher. He hoped no one was talking. He hoped they were patiently waiting for him to explain. Turning toward them, his gaze roved over each anxious face. His mother, a tall willowy woman who still bore the mark of her earlier beauty, was rarely prone to tears. She had collected herself, her back with the usual ramrod in it, her long neck displayed, chin up, and intelligent eyes studying him. Charlotte was still dabbing at her eyes but was doing her best to be the elder sister and a good example of how to behave even in extraordinary circumstances. Mary, the shy one of the group, who had such a soft heart that she could hardly bear to see an insect smashed, much less her brother in pain, looked at him with sad, frightened eyes. And Jane, the cheery one whom everyone loved . . . Gabriel looked away from Jane's quivering lips and cleared his throat.

  Good heavens, they were wrecks, the lot of them.

  "I presume you have heard of my, um, 'condition.'"

  His mother said something but he held up his hand. "Let me explain what has happened and then you may ask your questions." His mother clamped her lips together.

  "I was attending the opera as usual, about three weeks ago. Mr. Meade, you remember my secretary, came to my box with a letter from the prince regent. Something about a guardianship that I have inherited." He waved that away with one hand, not wanting to go into those details. "As I was reading the letter, I was struck with a great pain and dizziness, here." He tapped the upper part of his forehead. "Over the course of the next several moments, I realized that I couldn't hear any longer. It was a buzzing sound at first and then nothing."

  He paced across the thick carpet in front of them. "Since that time I have, of course, seen the best doctors and tried several treatments. Nothing has yet worked." He swung toward them and locked gazes with each one by turns. "But know I am convinced that my hearing will return. This is a temporary condition that we need to keep amongst ourselves. In the meantime I am becoming better at reading lips if you speak slowly, not too slowly, just slowly enough and enunciate your words. Also, I have employed the use of speaking books. Rather, you write down what you want to say or ask me. Seeing that there are four of you, I suggest we use the book." He smiled at them, trying to lighten the mood. "I know how much you like to talk all at once."

  Jane burst into fresh tears.

  Mary clung to the arm of the settee.

  Charlotte pulled forth his handkerchief again and threw it over her face.

  His mother looked up and mouthed, "The ball? You have to attend. You are the host!" She motioned around the room.

  The ball. Excellent. He'd forgotten that he had agreed to host one of the season's most sought-after events, hoping that in doing so his mother would stop the constant reminders that he must marry and produce an heir. A ball here, in his home, might convince her that he was at least thinking about it, even though he had yet to meet a woman of the ton who inspired much of anything in him.

  His mind went blank as panic rushed over him in a wave of prickling heat.

  How was he going to pull off such a thing as a ball?

  THE NEXT MORNING MEADE HANDED a letter across the desk with the words, words that made his heart suddenly skip a beat, "From your ward, Your Grace. Lady Alexandria Featherstone."

  He took the folded paper and motioned Meade away. Why was it that he didn't want anyone around when he read it? He wasn't sure, but Meade knew his every gesture and quickly left the room.

  Gabriel lifted the letter to his nose, inhaling a faint whiff of lavender coming from the page. He opened it and read the sarcastic tone. She was upbraiding him. She was upset. It was understandable. She hated him, a little. The bearer of bad news and someone over her. He wasn't surprised but it got to him, nevertheless. She was hurt . . . grieving. And even in that state of emotion, she pledged to pray for him, to love him like family. That statement told more about her than any he'd read yet. He sighed, a strange warmth filling his insides. He would allow this little show of temper. He would let her pray for him. God knew he needed it.

  He took out his quill and poised it over the page with a big breath.

  My dear Lady Featherstone,

  Your reluctance to come under my authority is both understandable and yet ill advised. I have taken my role as your guardian with most serious intent. I would do my duty by you in a manner that will bring you security and comfort. In effect, you may trust me. I will watch over you and your estate with the same attention that I attend to my own family and self. There is no greater promise I can give you.

  It will take some time, I am sure, for us to know how to proceed with one another. In the meantime, please continue your letters. I find them refreshing and want to become better acquainted. And please continue your prayers. I have need of them now more than ever.

  With much regard,

  St. Easton

  He reread it and then, satisfied, sanded the ink, and folded and sealed it with his ducal ring. He looked at the ring afterward, the metal still warm from the wax, and wondered if she would ever be impressed with a duke.

  Chapter Six

  She was doing the right thing.

  Yes, of course she was.

  Alex climbed into the hired coach and settled herself upon the threadbare seat as the coachman tied her trunks down to the top of the vehicle. She held the handkerchief of bread and cheese in her lap and took a deep breath. Already things had not gone as planned. She shook her head and looked out the window at the village of Beal, thinking of the small fortune she had paid Mr. Howard, a man of few words and a disapproving scowl, to drive her as far as Carlisle.

  He'd not been happy to see her traveling alone, but she hadn't had any choice, had she? Ann and Henry were needed on the island to take care of the castle, the sheep, and the townsfolk while she was away, and she didn't think a long, arduous journey would do either of them any good. She'd been tempted to bring Latimere for protection but in the end had decided against it. She didn't know how long she would be gone and what forms of transport would be available to her. Her dear pet might put more restrictions on her, and she doubted Mr. Howard would have allowed him in the carriage, great hairy beast that he was. She'd had to add several coins to the bargain to gain his cooperation as it was.

  A few minutes later the carriage shuddered an
d began down the lane. It was an ancient vehicle, large and lumbering, swaying on the rutted road. Alex looked back toward her island. The tide had come in and covered the causeway so she wouldn't be able to go back home for several hours, even if her courage failed her and she wanted to. Not that she did. She had to find her parents. No one else was looking for them. It was up to her to rescue them from whatever harm had befallen them.

  She imagined saving them and then taking them to her guardian's house in London, proving them all wrong. The duke would stutter and raise his quizzing glass to peer at the three of them. The image of a fat, old man with a walking stick made her smile. Then frown. Upon receiving his last letter she'd had a moment's pause. He didn't sound quite so old and doddering as she'd first imagined. He sounded confident and . . . kind. Could he really care about her? Did he really want her to write more letters and continue her prayers?

  Dear Lord, whatever he meant by needing my prayers, I hope You'll help him. I hope he feels Your love for him in the trials of life and that Your love gives him strength and courage and peace. And help me remember to pray for him! I haven't actually prayed very much, as You know! And now I'm feeling rather guilty about that. And help me find my parents. Amen.

  As to writing more letters, she wasn't sure what to say. In a whirl of confusion she'd pulled out a worn copy of the Magee's London Letter Writer, a supposed guide to "the art of fashionable correspondence," and paged through it for clues as to how to write something so convincing that His Grace would send her more money. The book had been almost scandalous in its hinting that she play the coquette, something she had no experience doing or being. La! Flirt with a man to get more from his pockets? Not in this century! She would do as the widow in the Bible had done—the one with the land trouble who had gone to the judge so consistently, sweetly, and be persistent.

  So, she'd written him another letter telling of the poor sheep and the well that had gone dry. Which was true. Never mind that that particular well had been dry for the last decade, they could always use a new one, couldn't they? Just a few hundred pounds more and she could at least stay as long as she needed in Ireland. She tapped her finger against her chin, deep in thought. If only she knew someone there. She was going to need some help. She bent her head and prayed for such help.

  The soft rays of morning sunlight brightened as the afternoon crept by, warming the inside of the carriage. Alex leaned her forehead against the window and watched as the Cheviot Hills rolled by. Much of the grass had turned brown, but there were patches of green pastureland still to be seen. They had an undulating quality that seemed peaceful and serene. The white furry shapes of slow-moving sheep dotted one distant hill. Alex smiled. She would miss her small herd. Twenty-three in all, she had named each one, knew their various temperaments, and treated them more like pets than livestock. A fact that Ann despaired of, throwing her hands up in frustration whenever Alex had the gall to bring one inside the castle due to some malady or injury. It wasn't unusual to hear one bleating from her bedchamber. Alex chuckled and closed her eyes as the carriage dipped and swayed her into a light sleep.

  When she awoke, it was dark outside the windows. The air, too, told that night had come with a deep chill that made her nose feel numb. She rubbed it with cold hands and stretched the stiffness from her back. Wondering how close they were to the town of Carlisle, she knocked at the front window to gain Mr. Howard's attention. The carriage lumbered to a slow stop.

  Alex let herself down and stretched out her arms, looking around for a place to do her necessary business. There was a stand of trees not far. That should do.

  "Mr. Howard, are we close to Carlisle?"

  "Aye, miss. Less than an hour away if I don't miss my guess."

  "Oh, good. I'll just be a minute, right over there." She pointed toward the trees and ducked her head, hoping the reason would be obvious. When he didn't say anything, just grunted and turned away, she breathed a sigh of relief and trudged through the thick grass. Clouds skidded across the half-moon causing eerie shadows to move across the grass. Alex shivered and hurried. The carriage seemed quite warm and cozy compared to the wind-whipped landscape surrounding her.

  She had just turned back when the pounding of horses' hooves coming from behind her made her freeze in her tracks. Slowly, with a heart that was pounding almost as loud as the approaching men, she turned and peered into the dusky light. The white fluttering of flags and the dark shapes of the horses was all she could see.

  "My lady! Quick! Get back into the carriage!" Mr. Howard hissed at her.

  Snapping from her statuelike trance, Alex turned and ran back the way she had come. With a great leap she jumped inside and slammed the door shut, but wanting to see what was happening she opened the door a crack and shouted up at the driver. "What shall we do? Who do you think they are?"

  "Shush, now," was his only reply, but he started the horses and they continued down the narrow road, toward the coming men, in a slow roll of the wheels against the road. Alex shut the door again and leaned back onto the seat, praying highwaymen weren't about to steal all her belongings. And before she had even made it out of England! That would certainly not be fair.

  A shout came from somewhere in front of them. Alex opened the door a crack and pressed her ear to the opening.

  "Stop, in the name of the prince regent, I command you."

  Her heart sped up. The prince regent?

  "We are the prince regent's soldiers and we patrol this road. What is your business?"

  "I've been hired to take my lady to Whitehaven, sir. We were hoping to make Carlisle and an inn before dark, but alas the road has been trying and we are somewhat later than I imagined."

  "A lady?" The man sounded curious and intrigued. "Who is this lady and what is her business?"

  The sound of horses came nearer. Alex shut the carriage door with a soft sound, only to have it wrenched open a moment later. A sudden blaze of light came forward as another soldier lit a lantern and handed it to the man at the door. "So, what is your business, my lady?" He asked with one dark brow raised.

  Alex rallied her courage and sat up as tall as she could, adopting a superior mien by staring down her nose at the soldier. She'd practiced this particular look in the mirror many times and as yet had not found an occasion to use it. This just might be the perfect time to try it out.

  "I am Lady Alexandria Featherstone of Holy Island and I have business to attend to in Whitehaven. And you, sir? You mention our dear prince regent for whom I have a great regard and friendship. In what capacity do you serve His Majesty?" It was a sad truth that lies had always flown out of her mouth with the ease of a bard telling a tall tale. She couldn't seem to help it.

  The man's mouth cocked up on one side in a smile that was both insidious and admiring. He bowed with flourish, the lantern waving shafts of yellow light around the carriage. "I am Lieutenant Haggerty of the 12th Light Dragoons. At your service, my lady."

  Alex dipped her head in a slight bow. "Thank you, Lieutenant." She studied his face for clues. Was he really a friend? He had dark hair and a thick mustache that tipped up in an almost comical manner on either end. His face was lean, almost too much so, giving him a gaunt look, but his dark eyes made her uncomfortable. He seemed to be looking right through her cloak and trying to judge her figure. "Pray tell, how far to Carlisle, Lieutenant? I confess exhaustion and the need of an inn as soon as may be."

  "Not far. About thirty minutes yet. But my lady, do you travel alone? Where is your maid? You must at least have a servant with you?"

  The disapproval in his voice was thick with accusation. His gaze flicked down again and then around the carriage as if the invisible servant must be hiding.

  "She became ill at the last minute and I was forced to journey alone. I have Mr. Howard though. A true servant and guard. He is quite handy with the rifle and has bested all the local men of Beal at fi
sticuffs."

  Her coachman made a coughing sound as that falsehood settled around them.

  "I see." The lieutenant appeared to see right through her. Alex lifted her chin another notch and directed. "We really must be on our way, sir."

  "Lady Featherstone, as I can see you have no idea of the dangers of these roads at night, I insist that you allow me to accompany you into town. I'm sure your friend the prince regent would have my head should I let trouble befall you."

  Oh, dear. He wasn't buying a word of it. Alex dipped her head and pasted on a fake smile. "Very well. That is most kind of you." She reached over and grasped the door handle, pulling it firmly closed in his face.

  As soon as he rode out of sight, darkness flooded the interior of the carriage. She let out a big breath and leaned back against the seat with a groan.

  True to his word, Lieutenant Haggerty led the small company of soldiers right into town. They passed through the town gate, saw a massive stone structure that was probably an abbey or ancient castle, and then rumbled down a cobblestone street to the main part of the town. The old carriage shuddered to a stop in front of a building. Light flooded the street in yellow squares from the windows and she could hear a bow gliding over the strings of a fiddle. The sign hanging above the door read Black Friars Inn. Alex wasn't sure she should trust the lieutenant's choice, but she was really too hungry and tired to care. As long as they would give her some supper and a bed, she would take it.

  The carriage door swung open before she had a chance to open it herself and there stood the lieutenant, dressed in a bright red uniform. She gave him a weary smile and allowed him to take her gloved hand in his to help her down.

  "The place seems quite busy, sir. Do you think they will have an available room?"

  "I shall be sure of it, my lady. If you would be so good as to allow me to escort you inside and transact the business of it on your behalf?"