Duke Darcy's Castle

by Syrie James

  “Why on earth are you both looking at me like that?” Kathryn asked.

  “How are we looking at you?” Lexie replied innocently, exchanging a glance with Maddie.

  “As if you know some deep dark secret that’s making you perversely happy.”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” Maddie commented, a sly edge to her voice.

  “Nor do I.” The buttercup yellow silk of Lexie’s frock rustled as she settled it about her legs.

  “Then why do you both keep saying, ‘My my my’? What’s that about?”

  “Well,” Lexie said mischievously, “it’s just that there’s something . . . different about you from the last time we saw you.”

  “I should think so. I was sick. Apparently, very sick.”

  “I’m not talking about that.”

  “We’ve seen you sick plenty of times.” Maddie leaned forward in her chair. “But you’re on the mend now, and there’s a sort of . . . air about you that we’ve never seen before.”

  “An air?” Kathryn repeated, puzzled.

  Lexie nodded. “A distracted air.”

  “When we talk to you, your mind doesn’t seem to be focused on the conversation,” Maddie put in. “It’s like you drift off somewhere else.”

  “You should understand that better than anyone, Maddie,” Kathryn insisted. “When you’re thinking about whatever book you’re writing, your attention wanders all over the place and sometimes you appear almost comatose. In my case, I’ve probably been thinking about the architectural project I’m working on.”

  “I don’t think it’s that.” Maddie toyed with the lace trimming on her blue skirt.

  “When you drift off, you get this . . . look on your face,” Lexie agreed.

  “What kind of look?”

  “A dreamy look,” Maddie explained.

  “A very dreamy look,” Lexie agreed. “A look that nobody gets when they’re thinking about architecture.”

  “It’s the kind of look Lexie gets whenever Thomas walks in the room.”

  “The same look Maddie gets whenever Charles’s name is even mentioned.”

  “Except in your case,” Maddie told Kathryn, “we don’t even have to mention the duke’s name—you seem to be thinking about him all the time, anyway.”

  “The duke?” Kathryn suddenly felt hot under the collar of her silk dressing gown. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t think about the duke all the time.” Which was a complete lie. “Especially in any way that would make me drift off dreamily.” Another lie.

  “Oh come now, you can’t fool us, we’re your sisters.” Lexie gave her a direct look. “We’ve known you since the day you were born. It’s perfectly obvious to us that you’re head over heels in love with Lord Darcy.”

  “I am not in love with him!” Drat them for being so observant. But she wasn’t in love with him. Was she? “I have simply been drawing up architectural plans for the man’s castle.”

  “Then why do your cheeks go pink every time he walks into the room?” Maddie asked.

  “Why do your eyes light up like the candles on a Christmas tree every time he speaks?” Lexie said.

  “You hang on his every word.”

  “You look at him like you want to eat him up.”

  “I don’t look at Lance that way!” Kathryn protested.

  “Lance?” Lexie’s eyebrows lifted knowingly. “So, you’re on a first name basis with him now?”

  “We already knew that,” Maddie scoffed with a wave of her hand. “He calls you Kathryn.”

  Kathryn wanted to scream. “We just call each other that in private.”

  “In private?” her sisters echoed suggestively, in unison.

  “You’ve kissed him, haven’t you?” Excitement reigned in Maddie’s voice.

  “No!” Kathryn cried. Then, feeling guilty, she retracted the lie. “All right, we have kissed. A few times. And . . . more than kissed. But . . .”

  “I told you!” Maddie gave Lexie a triumphant smile.

  “Have you slept with him?” Lexie asked.

  “No!” Kathryn insisted. Although we’ve done almost everything but. She wasn’t quite ready to admit how close she and Lance had come to making love.

  “But you’ve kissed,” Lexie mused with delight, “and more than kissed. This is wonderful!”

  “It’s about time you found someone who’s worthy of you,” Maddie agreed.

  “I haven’t found anyone. I—”

  “Oh, but you have, sister dear,” Lexie cried with enthusiasm. “Whether you’re ready to admit it or not, the Duke of Darcy is the man for you.”

  “He’s absolutely gorgeous. And he’s smart and kind and incredibly sweet.”

  “And caring and thoughtful. And clearly besotted with you.”

  Kathryn gasped and shook her head. “He is not besotted with me!”

  “He is,” Lexie retorted. “It’s all over his face every time he looks at you. It’s like you hung the moon.”

  “He took care of you all by himself for two days straight,” Maddie pointed out. “What man would do that for anyone? Much less a duke?”

  “A duke who’s madly in love with our sister, that’s who,” Lexie agreed.

  “But . . . no,” Kathryn objected. “He can’t be in love with me.”

  “He is,” Maddie maintained. “And if we’re reading the signals right, we think he’s going to ask you to marry him.”

  “He already asked,” Kathryn burst out without thinking,

  “What?” Lexie and Maddie exclaimed at the same moment, staring at her.

  Kathryn wanted to bite her tongue off. “Three days after I got here,” she reluctantly confessed, “he called me into the drawing room and proposed.”

  Her sisters exchanged another look, signaling their surprise and delight.

  “What did you say?” Lexie asked.

  “I said no! I’m his architect! I had only known him three days!”

  “He must really be smitten with you to propose so quickly,” Maddie said, placing one hand dramatically to her chest.

  Lexie’s brow creased. “Unless . . . what is his financial status?”

  “It’s not about my money,” Kathryn assured her. “He’s made that perfectly clear. He’s just a new duke who needs a wife, and I guess he . . . likes me.”

  “Well, then.” Lexie smiled. “The only question is: what will you say when he asks again?”

  “He won’t ask. And if he does, I’ll say no again.”

  “Why?” Maddie asked.

  “Because he’s a duke! His bride will be a duchess. Which is something I can never be.”

  “Yes, you could,” Lexie insisted.

  “No, I couldn’t.” Kathryn toyed distractedly with the silk belt of her dressing gown, her mind suddenly full of all the steamy interludes that she and Lance had shared. The way she’d melted every time he’d held her in his arms. If she married him, she’d share his bed for the rest of her life. And they could do . . . more of that. Much more.

  But she couldn’t marry him.

  “He needs a wife,” Kathryn went on, “who will be content to stay home and give him babies and run the castle and host events in the community. I am not that person! I have a career. And a duchess can’t work outside the home. You know that. It just isn’t done.”

  “We figured you’d say that,” Lexie responded softly. “And we understand your situation, we truly do. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are.”

  “But, Kathryn,” Maddie said, “it was unheard of for an English countess to write and publish novels until Charles broke the mold and allowed it. We’ve gotten to know Lord Darcy a bit. He seems to be a very forward-thinking man. Maybe you won’t have to give up your career entirely. Maybe he won’t mind if you design or renovate the occasional building.”

  “The occasional building? Do you hear what you’re saying? I don’t want to give up my career at all.”

  “We don’t always get what we want, Kathryn,” Lexie said. “You mi
ght have to give it up in any case. Have you considered that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Architecture is a man’s world,” Maddie contended. “As a single woman, no matter how brilliant you are or how hard you work, there’s no guarantee you’ll succeed. But if you were to marry a man as prominent as the Duke of Darcy, it would open so many doors.”

  “You’ll have access to people at the top levels of society,” Lexie agreed. “It may be unheard of now for a duchess to work, but you could be the one to change that. And trust me: being the wife of an English aristocrat—if he’s a man you adore—is a wonderful life.”

  Kathryn heaved a sigh. “I know you’re saying all this because you love me. And because you want me to experience the kind of happiness you both have found.”

  “Yes!” her sisters cried.

  “But, Maddie: you write quietly at home. Lexie: you teach at the village school and take no remuneration for it. Your work meshes with your duties as wives and mothers and countesses. It’d be totally different for me. My job is in London. Even if I gave it up and took work occasionally, I’d have to travel to job sites and sometimes stay for weeks. I’d keep hours that are impossible for a wife and mother, not to mention a duchess.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Maddie instructed, shaking her head. “Have you learned nothing this week, Kathryn?”

  “No one should work such long hours,” Lexie told her. “It’s unhealthy. You need to find balance in your life. Make time for yourself and for the people you care about. Otherwise—”

  “Ladies?”

  The duke strolled into the room. Kathryn’s heart stood still as she took in his tall, lanky frame and handsome face. He was carrying a large potted orchid covered in exquisite purple blooms. Taking in the scene before him with a warm smile, he added:

  “I hope I am not interrupting?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lance glanced at Kathryn and her sisters, aware of a silent discord permeating the room. “I have interrupted something, haven’t I?”

  “We were just talking about . . . architecture,” Kathryn responded.

  “Well, that is something you know a great deal about.” Studying her, he added, “You are looking better today.”

  “I feel better, thank you. And thank you again for taking care of me the way you did. It went far beyond the bounds of duty. I will be forever grateful.”

  “It was hardly a duty, Kathryn. It was my pleasure. You had us all worried there for a while.” He held up the orchid plant he was carrying. “I recall you saying that you don’t like cut flowers, so I sent for something . . . potted. I hope this will add a bit of cheer to your day.”

  “Thank you.” Kathryn smiled up at him, her face glowing. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

  As Lance set the potted plant on a small table beside her, he noticed the countesses squirming in their seats. He also noted the covert glances that both women directed toward their younger sister, as if saying, I told you so. He wondered what that was about.

  “And now,” he went on, turning his attention back to Kathryn, “related to that topic: I have come to tell you that I’ve decided to cancel the Children’s Fête.”

  “What?” Kathryn stared up at him in obvious dismay. “Oh! I’d forgotten all about it. But why are you canceling it?”

  “I think it best. I know you’ve put in a great deal of effort in planning the affair—”

  “We planned it together,” she interrupted.

  “Yes, which makes me aware of how much additional effort will be required to actually host the thing. I do not feel qualified to run a fête for a hundred children on my own. In view of your illness, I cannot possibly allow you to take it on yourself.”

  “But the fête has been advertised for months,” Kathryn pointed out. “I’m told the children are so looking forward to it. By now all the food must have been ordered, and Mrs. Penberthy has made a hundred pinwheels. You can’t cancel because of me.”

  “You have not fully recovered your strength,” Lance insisted. “Even if you had, I won’t take the risk. Such an endeavor might occasion a relapse.”

  “When is the fête supposed to take palace?” asked Alexandra.

  “Monday,” Lance replied.

  “That’s only three days away. I’d be happy to stay and help,” she offered. “Thomas will understand. I can have the nanny bring Tommy down for the day. He’s five years old now, the ideal age to enjoy such festivities.”

  “I think Emily is too young for a fête,” Madeleine mused, “but I can stay, too. The three of us can run it together. Four, if you are willing to assist, Lord Darcy.”

  Kathryn clasped her hands together with apparent joy. “Oh! Thank you, that would be wonderful.”

  Lance hesitated. “That is a generous offer, ladies. But are you certain?”

  “Absolutely,” Alexandra answered.

  “We were quite the team when we ran the children’s fairs at our church back in Poughkeepsie,” Madeleine claimed.

  “This will be so much fun,” Kathryn declared.

  They looked so enthusiastic Lance couldn’t help but laugh.

  Everyone said it was the best Children’s Fête that St. Gabriel’s Mount had ever seen.

  Although there hadn’t been a fête for decades, many members of the community had long memories. Some recalled bringing their children to a fête or attending one as children themselves. This year’s event, they declared, eclipsed them all.

  The day dawned bright and beautiful with nary a cloud in the sky. Kathryn regained her strength just in time to play her part. She and her sisters had a wonderful time playing hosts, with Lance assisting every step of the way. After a busy morning setting everything up with the help of the servants and volunteers from the village, the festivities began with a bang at twelve noon, low tide making it possible for the residents of Rosquay to walk across the causeway.

  As anticipated, more than a hundred children, most with their parents in tow, descended bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the wide grassy area at the base of the Mount, where tables were laden with cakes, biscuits, lemonade, and punch. A multitude of game stations had been set up, including such favorites as ring toss, horseshoes, lawn bowling, and beanbag throw. Kathryn and her sisters also introduced a new American game to the British crowd, pin the tail on the donkey, which proved to be a great success.

  A strolling balloon artist created animals and a conjurer entertained the children under a canopy, followed by a Punch and Judy puppet show which had the youngsters laughing into stitches.

  The lawn games were the crowning glory of the day, with much screaming of encouragement from parents and friends who watched from the sidelines.

  As the three-legged race was about to start, Kathryn noticed a small boy hovering uncertainly, despondent because he didn’t have a partner.

  Lance strode up to the youngster and offered to be his partner. The boy’s eyes lit with delight. Kathryn’s heart caught as she watched Lance tie the calf of his long, lean leg to the boy’s much shorter one, and then scramble with him to the finish line, earning a blue ribbon.

  The winners of each event held on to their ribbons as though they were made of gold. The small prizes Kathryn and the duke had selected for the games were well-received. And the pinwheels, much to Mrs. Penberthy’s credit, were a hit. When the colorful toys were distributed at the end of the afternoon, the children ran off with glee, watching them whirl round and round.

  Kathryn gave a sigh of contentment as the crowd began to depart. Some drifted back to their homes in the neighboring village, others made for the harbor where an army of small boats had gathered to return the visitors across the water to Rosquay. “That went marvelously well, I thought.”

  “It couldn’t have gone better,” agreed the dowager duchess, smiling as she leaned upon her cane. “You all outdid yourselves.”

  Maddie wiped her brow with the back of her hand, taking in the bright blue sea lapping at the near
by shore. “It was great fun. And what a spectacular setting for a fête.”

  “Tommy loved every minute of it.” Lexie lifted up her golden-haired son and hugged him. “Didn’t you, sweet pea?”

  “I got a whirligig!” cried Tommy exuberantly, squirming until his mother let him down so he could race away with delight.

  “You ladies were like human dynamos,” Lance pronounced, pausing to direct a servant to pack up the pins from the lawn bowling set. “I don’t believe any of you have ever stopped moving since dawn. You have earned my eternal gratitude. And a well-deserved rest.”

  The duke put his footman in charge of the remainder of the cleanup duties. Insisting that Kathryn, her sisters, and his grandmother return to the castle and put their feet up, he arranged for a carriage to transport them up the hill. Kathryn was only too happy to accept a ride. Her sisters said they preferred to walk.

  As Lexie and Maddie began their ascent to the castle, Kathryn paused to observe Lance conversing with the lad with whom he’d run the three-legged race. The happiness on both their faces was a joy to behold.

  “He is a good man, my grandson.”

  Kathryn turned to find the dowager duchess standing beside her, watching as the duke shook hands with the boy, then sent him off to his waiting parents with a kind smile.

  “He is, indeed,” Kathryn acknowledged.

  “He will make a good father. And a good husband to the right woman. For all that he had his heart broken at such a young age.”

  Kathryn eyed the duchess curiously. On the day Lance proposed, she’d suspected that he might have offered for a woman’s hand before, but hadn’t known for certain that he’d suffered heartbreak.

  The carriage rolled up at that moment, and Kathryn and the dowager duchess took their seats. As it rumbled off along the cobblestones, Kathryn said, “I didn’t realize the duke had ever been in love.”

  “Oh yes,” the duchess told Kathryn in a confidential tone. “As a young man, just twenty years of age, Lance fell head over heels in love with a girl he met on leave in Portsmouth. Her name was Beatrice. Her father owned a small shop. Lance asked her to marry him and she said yes.”