Love's Legacy_World of de Wolfe Pack

by Amanda Mariel

  Text copyright ©2015 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Kathryn Le Veque. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original World of de Wolfe Pack remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kathryn Le Veque, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  LOVE’S LEGACY

  A DE WOLFE NOVELLA

  Amanda Mariel

  DEDICATION

  For the lovely and super talented Kathryn Le Veque, thank you for inviting me to be a part of your world. For the readers and fans of the De Wolfe series, may you love Camden and Rebecca as much as I do.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  LOVE’S LEGACY

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT AMANDA MARIEL

  CHAPTER ONE

  Yorkshire, England

  Summer, 1815

  Lady Rebecca Sumerville could scarcely believe her eyes. She stared up at Babylon castle, focused on the small flicker of light in the narrow lancet windows of the second-story entry hall. She leaned toward her sister. “Phoebe,” she rasped. “Do you see that?”

  “See what? And why are you whispering?” Phoebe slanted her stare at Rebecca.

  A valid question. She supposed she was half afraid a sudden sound would scare the light away. Reluctantly Rebecca glanced away from the castle, catching her sister’s gaze. “There”—she pointed at Babylon—“the light.” Her heart sunk when she looked back at the castle barely visible against the night sky. The glow had vanished.

  “I see nothing.”

  “It was there. I saw it. A flickering glow coming from the lancet windows.” Rebecca turned back toward Babylon Castle. Her family’s Yorkshire estate bordered the ancient stone castle situated on the opposite side of a small creek. In the light of day one could make out the castle’s lines clearly from her house. The great keep peeked out from behind the walls encasing the sandstone structure. Rebecca had spent many an hour gazing at the formidable keep and daydreaming.

  She’d snuck over to the castle on more than one occasion, though she’d never entered its walls. Most frequently, she strolled around the outer wall studying the stone. On some occasions she had sat near the bricked up postern gate. Each time she laid eyes on Babylon, she created tales in her mind about the castle and its legendary occupants. According to the legend no one had lived there for hundreds of years. Not since Sir Kenton Le Bec and his beloved Lady Nicola Aubrey-Thorne passed away. Rebecca imagined what the couple must have lived like and spun tales to explain the bricked up gate as she’d never heard anything about it in the legend.

  Phoebe laced her arm through Rebecca’s. “Let us return to the party.”

  Rebecca smiled at her twin sister. “Not just yet. I want to watch for the light to return. What do you suppose caused it?”

  “I don’t know. Mayhap it was your imagination.” Phoebe tugged on Rebecca’s arm. “Come on before mother sends a search party after us.”

  Rebecca’s chest tightened as she stared back at the castle. Had she imagined the flickering glow? She did not think so.

  Phoebe tugged again, pulling Rebecca forward. “Please be sensible. Even if you did see a light it was likely just the moon’s glow. There is nothing to gain by remaining here. Let us return now.”

  She supposed her sister was right. By now mother had surely noted their absence. Should they dally much longer they’d earn her scorn. After all, tonight was about them and mother had gone to great efforts to arrange the house party. She’d invited the most sought-after families along with their bachelor sons, hoping to make a match for at least one of her eligible daughters. Sighing, Rebecca followed Phoebe toward the house. “If we must.”

  Phoebe squeezed her elbow. “Come now, it is not all that bad.”

  “Perhaps not for you.” Rebecca grinned. “Which gentleman has your fancy?”

  “Do not tease me.” Phoebe swatted Rebecca with her fan.

  The quartet’s music drifted from the house as they drew closer. Light spilled out onto the lawn casting the front gardens in a glow. Rebecca reached for Phoebe’s dance card. “Shall we see who awaits you, dear?” She flicked her gaze over it. “Lord Owens signed twice. Might I find you as Lady Owens before the summer quits us?”

  Phoebe jerked her wrist away. “Stop jesting. I do not find you at all entertaining.”

  Rebecca strode into the ballroom noting the light flush upon her sister’s cheeks and stifled a laugh. “Very well, if you insist.”

  Phoebe released Rebecca’s arm. “Here he comes now.”

  Lord Owens strolled toward them, his eyes sparkling. He did not wear his soldier’s uniform as he had on previous occasions but a pang of upset raced through Rebecca all the same. How could Phoebe have designs on such a man after what had happened to their brother? “Does it not bother you that he is a soldier, Phoebe?”

  “No, and do hush. He might hear you.”

  Rebecca looked around the crowded room. “I’m certain he cannot.”

  “No matter. I find Lord Owens and all of the other soldiers to be quite honorable. They are heroes. We should be happy to dance with any one of them.”

  “There is nothing heroic about death and chaos.” Rebecca glanced at her twin, noting the sparkle dancing in her eyes.

  For an instant, a pang of envy struck her. Despite being twins, Rebecca had always thought Phoebe was much prettier. She took after their mother, nearly a head shorter, with the kind of build that made gentlemen naturally protective. Her hazel eyes suited her thick chestnut locks. Rebecca on the other hand resembled their father, too tall to be fashionable, with thin blonde hair she could never get to sit right.

  “Do hush.”

  Phoebe stepped away to join Lord Owens before Rebecca could say more. Not that her stubborn sister would listen anyway. Phoebe had made herself quite clear just now. What a ninny to so happily offer herself up to heartbreak and abandonment! Well, not Rebecca. She’d had all she was willing to take of war and soldiers. She’d not be made a widow at the end of some enemy’s weapon. Life would not find her as it had her sister-in-law, Lady Daphne. The poor lady was barely wed to Rebecca’s brother long enough to be with child when Rowland was called away. Now she found herself a widow raising a wee one without a father, all because her husband had chosen to buy a commission in the British Army.

  Pushing the dreadful memory aside, she fanned herself while she moved through the crush of people toward the refreshment table. Between the guests crowded into the room and the warm summer temperatures, the ball had taken on an unpleasant stifling quality. Humidity caused sweat to form at the back of Rebecca’s neck where her hair was gathered. A glass of cold claret would be divine just now.

  Someone rested a hand on her shoulder stopping her halfway to the table.

  “Rebecca darling, I’d like to introduce you to Lord Fredrickson.”

  Her heart sank. Drat. So much for avoiding mother’s matchmaking. Rebecca ground her teeth before turning to face mother with a fake grin pasted onto her lips. Mother smiled back with a sparkle in her hazel gaze. A tall dark-haired man stood beside her.

  “Lord Fredrickson served with Rowland in the second regiment a
nd has just returned from Waterloo.” Mother glanced up at the gentleman.

  “How fortunate.” Rebecca let the smile fall from her lips. “Did you know my brother well? Rowland was not so lucky as you, my lord. He is never to return to us.”

  Mother inhaled sharply.

  Lord Fredrickson’s mouth pulled into a wince at Rebecca’s words. “I’m terribly sorry about your brother’s misfortune.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” She turned to her mother. “I fear I have come down with a headache. Might I retire to my rooms?”

  Mother touched a gloved hand to Rebecca’s brow. “Very well, darling. I’ll send a maid up with something to sooth the pain.”

  “Thank you mother.” Rebecca offered Lord Fredrickson a curt nod then took her leave. Her head did not truly throb but she’d found herself desperate to escape the crush. She simply said the first thing that came to mind. Thank heavens it worked.

  Phoebe stepped in front of her just as she reached the door leading beyond the crowded room. “Where are you off to now?”

  “I have headache.” Rebecca forced herself to ignore the inclination to avert her gaze.

  Phoebe narrowed her eyes. “No you don’t. Tell me you are not planning to sneak off to Babylon.”

  “Of course not. I simply cannot tolerate one more moment of this ball. I’m going to bed.”

  “You can’t fool me. I know you’re considering a trek to the castle. At least wait for the morrow.”

  Phoebe did know Rebecca well. She could not argue the fact. “I considered it but have changed my mind.”

  “What a relief.” Phoebe grinned. “Might you reconsider your stance on mother’s party as well? If you would allow yourself to have some fun you might find it tolerable after all. There are a great many gentlemen here who did not serve in the war.”

  Rebecca shook her head. “I am well aware of who is in attendance. Please let me pass.”

  Phoebe moved aside calling after Rebecca as she mounted the staircase. “It will be a long week if you insist on avoiding the festivities.”

  Rebecca only quickened her pace. Long week indeed. This was but the second day of her mother’s house party. The festivities were planned to last a fortnight. The family knew mother intended to find husbands for Rebecca and Phoebe but the guests were under the impression the party was to celebrate the end of the war. Rebecca supposed that’s why mother invited so many soldiers to join. Just about everyone of importance who had served was present along with a great many titled families with their bachelor sons in tow.

  None of the gentlemen interested her, least of all the war heroes. Sure, there were many handsome, desirable gentlemen in attendance, but looks and titles held no sway with her. When she married, if she did, it would be for love, not some match arranged by her mother, or anyone else. Her heart would do the choosing.

  After lighting a lantern, she settled onto the window seat her father had built into her room. She loved sitting on the plush velvet surface while she read or stared at the castle. She set her lantern down and peered out the window, searching the dark veil of night for the shadowed outline of Babylon.

  Ah, there it was, a barely visible monument in the moonlight. Legend had it Sir Kenton and Lady Nicola shared a love so great that not even death could separate them. It was said they remained at Babylon together to this day, and when the fog thickened, you could hear them calling to each other, their voices carried through the mists. She wanted a love like theirs. A love so strong not even the finality of death could break its bonds.

  “My lady.”

  Rebecca glanced toward the door. Her maid stood in the entrance with a tray in her hands.

  “Your mother sent up a tonic.” The maid crossed the room and placed the tray near Rebecca.

  “Thank you.” She managed a weak smile. “I do not wish to be disturbed tonight. You may pick up the tray in the morning.”

  “Yes, my lady.” The maid curtsied and departed.

  Rebecca turned back to the window and leaned her forehead against the glass. Despite the warmth of the summer night the leaded glass felt cool against her skin. What caused the flickers of light she’d seen earlier? Had someone been inside the ruins?

  As she made to leave her perch the light caught her eye again. This time the glow appeared to be coming from higher up in the keep.

  She narrowed her gaze hoping to see more clearly. The light glowed behind the lancet windows of the massive stone structure. It looked as if someone had built a fire in one of the rooms. Who would dare to enter the castle? She could not imagine, but someone had to be in there. Every fiber of her being called for her to go catch the intruder. Alas, she’d given Phoebe her word, and she’d not go back on it.

  It would have to wait until morning.

  Excitement fluttered in her belly as she prepared for bed without touching her tray. The castle and its strange light practically called out to her in the night.

  Sleep did not come easily.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Camden Le Bec strolled across the large bailey stretching his stiff muscles. He peered through the thick blanket of fog clinging to the castle grounds. There was a lot to get done today in order to make the old castle inhabitable. He massaged his stiff neck as he headed for the stable. The medieval stone he’d slept on left him sore all over. He’d arrived at Babylon late last evening, sadly ill-prepared. What had he been thinking arriving at an abandoned castle alone, and at night?

  Once Wellington released him from duty he dismissed those in his charge and set out for a quiet place to clear his head. Though he loved his family, he found himself reluctant to return home straightaway. It was not that he regretted his part in the war or his duties as a soldier. He most certainly did not. He took pride in his accomplishments.

  All the same he longed for some time to himself to make peace with all he had seen and done. Babylon Castle seemed as good a place as any to meet his needs. He glanced around the bailey focusing through the eerie fog. No one was likely to bother him here.

  The castle lay in ruins from years of neglect. Its inner wall had been reduced in size by plundering villagers a hundred or so years before. The once grand gatehouse appeared more like a shell, its enormous gates rotted away long ago. Most of the outbuildings had been taken apart, their stones either carried away or scattered across the bailey.

  He trailed his gaze across the grounds from the stable to the keep. They still held their shape but also suffered damage from the years of neglect. Most of the wood within the stable had rotted away years ago, though the stone walls held strong. The keep was mostly intact, other than the partly caved in roof making the fifth floor uninhabitable. He’d inherited the castle from his uncle upon his death. It had been passed down through his family for centuries though no one ever bothered to make use of it. According to his father no one had lived in it since the fourteenth century. Babylon had long ago been stripped of its furnishings.

  A chill tickled his spine as he glanced from the gatehouse to the bricked-over postern gate paying mind to all things in-between. Considering the once grand castle’s current condition it was no wonder people believed the spirits of his ancestors haunted it.

  Babylon had been abandoned after the deaths of his ancestors Sir Kenton Le Bec and Lady Nicola Aubrey-Thorne not even a hundred years after it had been built. So far as Camden knew he was the first Le Bec to slumber here since. Family legend held that no one could stand the idea of disturbing their spirits and so they allowed the castle to fall into ill-repair.

  He entered the old stable going to the stall were he’d left his horse. Mayhap he should consider having the old pile of stones restored and making it his permanent home. A quiet life in the country did hold some appeal. At the least he would be able to avoid the pressures of London.

  The stallion nudged Camden’s arm with his strong head. “Hey there.” Camden reached up to stroke the beast’s muscled neck. “How about I move these stones so we can get you out and go find some supplies.” Th
e horse stepped back nodding its head and neighing. He would need to gather some wood to repair the rotted stall door along with hay, oats, straw, and commodities for himself. At least a few laborers to help make the repairs would be needed as well, and perhaps a house servant or two.

  A sharp intake of air drew his attention across the stable. He glanced away from his task searching for its source. His heart skipped a beat. A woman stood in the doorway, pale skirts billowing in the breeze. He did not believe in ghosts but the woman before him fit the description he’d been given of Lady Nicola Aubrey-Thorne. She was tall and lean with honey-colored hair and piercing green eyes. The sun’s rays cut through the fog casting her in an eerie glow. He blinked but she did not disappear.

  Once he recovered from the shock, he noticed her modern clothing. The lady wore a flowing mint day gown with a high waistline and short sleeves. A bonnet framed her heart-shaped face, its ribbons tied beneath her chin. She was no spirit. He opened his mouth to speak.

  She marched toward him, wagging one gloved finger. “You have no right here, intruder. This is private property. I insist you gather your mount and depart.”

  Her fearless approach held him captive. He studied her tall frame and blazing eyes, her words barely registered through his fascination. What had she called him? An intruder?

  She came to a halt before him placing her hands on her hips. She peered at him through the loveliest green eyes he’d ever beheld. “What have you to say for yourself?”

  “Are you the owner of this castle?” He searched the depths of her gaze.

  She steeled her back, anger flashing in her eyes.

  “Answer me!” He rested one hand on the wall leaning against it.

  “No, I am not the owner.” She pointed one finger at him holding it just inches from his chest. “But neither are you.”