The Guardian Duke: A Forgotten Castles Novel

by Carie, Jamie

  He flipped through it, making piles according to importance. And then he saw it. A letter from Holy Island. A letter from the impossible, audacious creature that was his ward. His heart gave a leap of pleasure and his lips broke into a smile. He flipped it over and lifted the seal, bringing the candle closer to read. What was his lovely little hoyden up to now?

  My Dear Duke,

  I don't know where to begin to explain all the difficulties this poor creature (that being myself), bereft of parents and alone in the world except for the guidance of your fine self, has so suddenly experienced. Just this morning I stepped out of my castle to more disasters. Have I told you about the island's castle and monastery? No? Dear sir, there are hardly two stones sitting next to each other to cover our heads. The ravages of time and hostiles have left us bereft of all but an occasional wall and a crumbling roof to keep us dry. Why, just the other day I had to hire two three men to repair another horrid hole in the roof. The constant dripping and leaking has us all at wit's end. What I really need are some workmen, and sir, you must know that a good carpenter, mason, and blacksmith will cost a great deal. I have so much work for them to do! I do lose sleep over it. Tossing and turning in my bed and wondering how I will ever make ends meet on a girl's allowance. Am I not the mistress now? Do I not deserve the funds to make this place finally habitable? I implore you, Your Grace, to reconsider the allotment of the fortune my parents left me. While they did not seem to have much regard for this lonely island, (they were rarely home long enough to feel the discomforts of leaky stone), I have been here and am yet here, making my future and way in this world the best I can. There is so much need. Shall I list some more of it for you?

  The wool from the sheep could be better traded and made into cloth for our cold winters. I can't remember the last time I had a warm cloak and dress. I'm still wearing fashions from the last decade, I can assure you. My servants run about in rags, mostly. Mr. Meade can surely testify to the state of my household staff.

  The well. We began digging a new one last month but were unsuccessful and the lake is so very far. Think of it, my dear duke, fresh water . . . who can put a price on that?

  My servants are equally in need of provisions—food, clothing, and other necessities. My poor housekeeper is so aged that I have been cleaning the castle myself. I know your shock must be great at hearing that and do implore you to send funds for a new maid-in-training also. Your generous allowance surely didn't take into account all the souls for which I am responsible. As ward to the powerful Duke of St. Easton, you must want me well provisioned and accounted for.

  I leave you with one thought.

  This place has a wild, ancient beauty that is incomparable and it is my home. My parents, bless their souls, had a fleeting love for it, but I will live here my whole life as the good Lord wills. I would like, with your help, to make it all that it was meant to be. It might cost a small fortune, but I beg you to give me the time to make it what I have imagined it could be.

  The time and the money.

  Your most faithful servant,

  Alexandria Featherstone

  P.S. My prayers for you are often and heartfelt. Take comfort in the fact that God's love never fails. Even in the midst of life's most harrowing trials, dear sir, you can depend on Him to see you through it. If you should wish to give me the great honor of confiding in me, know I will gladly lend you my ear and my shoulder in sharing your burden. Have faith in God, Your Grace. He will carry you through.

  Gabriel leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes, imagining her face, imagining her praying for him. His intimation that he needed her prayers had struck a chord in her, he could see. And her encouragement to have faith in God made him realize that beyond praying for his hearing to come back, he hadn't really put any faith in God's love for him. If God's love never failed, then why did it feel like it had? Perhaps he would confide in Alexandria. To be able to tell someone how he felt, how this affliction was affecting him and changing him? He needed someone like that. And she needed him. She needed money, yes, but she needed him. He imagined the crumbling castle, the horrid condition of the fourteenth-century monastery, the poor villagers with their dry well and weak sheep.

  He should go to her.

  Blast the fact that he was deaf. There was too much in her letters that told him she wouldn't care. She would accept his help with open arms and a thankful smile.

  Here was something he could be useful at. Here was something he could fix.

  Here was a woman who might accept him just as he was.

  Chapter Eight

  Alex slipped out of bed, trying not to wake her bedmate, wrapped her cape over her shoulders, and picked up her boots. Stepping lightly, she eased her bag off the room's only chair, slung it over one shoulder, and opened the door with only a tiny squeak, then tiptoed into the hall. She felt for her money bag, checking one last time before shutting the door. Perfect, it was still in the hidden pocket of her dress. She shut the door with a tiny click, then hurried from the room and down the stairs to the common room of the inn.

  No sign of the soldiers, thank God. She'd risen early to try to sneak away in case they had spent the night too. The last thing she needed was to have to deal with that lieutenant. Now, to find Missy. She had asked the maid, Missy, who had brought them firewood the night before, about purchasing a horse. Alex would be riding horseback for the rest of her journey as her coachman, Mr. Howard, had pressing business to attend to in a nearby town and had to take leave of her today. It didn't matter. She would be fine on her own. It was only a few hours' travel to Whitehaven and the western shore of England, where she would board a ferry to Ireland.

  A little thrill ran through her at the thought of Ireland. She'd never been farther than Alnwick, where she had once visited the famous Alnwick Castle, and here she was about to leave the country. Where exactly in Ireland she should begin her search was a bit of a puzzle, but she had one clue. She pulled the faded, much-folded letter out of her pocket and read it again.

  Dearest Alexandria,

  My heart despairs over how long we have been gone from you this time! Forsooth, your father and I had no idea the scope of the investigation when the mysterious Mr. Tweed (of course that is not his real name!) hired us to find our latest treasure. I fear our time here has provided only a very few clues, and thus we will be away from you longer than usual. I take comfort in knowing what an independent and resourceful young woman you are. You will do well to continue your upkeep of the castle, making your recipes and concoctions for tonics and cosmetics and such and watching over dear Henry and Ann. I must hurry, as your father is calling me that the mail coach is about to leave.

  We love you, darling!

  Mother

  Alex sighed. It was one of her mother's shorter letters, to be sure. And the way she had referred to Alex's little hobbies of invention sounded a bit condescending, although Alex told herself she was just being silly. Her mother was always delighted to try a new face cream or hair tonic when she was home. Never mind that one of those tonics had turned her mother's blonde tresses green. She hadn't been so very upset, saying she would wash it several times a day and wear hats in the meantime. And she did look wonderful in hats, didn't she?

  Alex sighed. Why did her mother always cause her such conflicting emotions? And why did she feel like she was constantly making excuses for her? Katherine was very much her own person and Alex had given up long ago expecting anything else from her, even though there were hidden moments when she cried into her pillow at night, feeling as if she hadn't a single person close enough to share her whole heart with.

  The notion that "accidents" didn't deserve the kind of attention she craved made her wipe away her tears and lecture herself about how lucky she was. Counting her blessings was a task she was very, very good at.

  She looked down at the worn letter and then flipped it over.
There was a clue here, an important one. She raised it close to her face, squinting at the smudge. It was faint but there was a postmark that read Belfast. She had studied the old world map in the library before embarking on this journey and been relieved to see it was quite close, just across the Irish Sea and up Belfast Lough. She would start there and hopefully find someone who had seen or spoken to her parents. Now to get safely to Whitehaven.

  When she walked outside she looked around the street for any sign of the soldiers. Seeing none, she skirted around to the back of the inn and breathed a sigh of relief to see the maid standing to one side near a water trough, holding the bridle to a tall brown horse. Alex hurried over to her.

  Just as she was crossing the yard, she saw a flash of red in the corner of her eye. Two soldiers were standing against the opposite corner smoking cigars. They must be with the lieutenant. She backed toward the corner of the inn, hoping against all odds that they hadn't seen her, and waved the maid over whispering, "Bring the horse."

  Missy looked at the soldiers and nodded, understanding lighting her eyes. With casual movements, she patted the horse and then led him around the other side of the trough toward Alex.

  "Is the horse for me?" Alex looked up at the tall animal with both gratitude and some trepidation. "I have to hurry away before those soldiers see me."

  The young woman nodded and leaned in. "He belongs to a friend of mine. I'll fetch him later tonight. When ye get to Whitehaven, take 'im to me brother's 'ouse. 'is name is Paul." She pushed a rumpled paper into Alex's hand. "Here's 'is address and a note for 'im. He will take care of Sorrel until I get there."

  Alex nodded and pocketed the note. "Thank you, Missy." She handed the maid a few coins.

  "I'll 'elp you up." She placed her hands in a cup shape with interlaced fingers and looked up at Alex.

  Alex gathered her skirt and placed her slippered foot in the maid's hands. The horse shifted beneath her weight, making her heart pound harder. "Many thanks!" she whispered, and turned the horse away from the men, going in the other direction. She pushed her heels in his side and they jerked into a canter. Please, God. Don't let me fall off this great beast!

  AN HOUR LATER ALEX WAS beginning to have serious doubts about the entire idea of finding her parents. The horse was skittish and easily spooked. The snapping of a twig, the chirping of birds, that rodent at the side of the road. Lord help her, he had reared at the sight of the creature. Well, just the tiniest bit, but it had nearly thrown her onto her back! Now, she had no choice but to cling to the saddle with clenched thighs and the leather reins with a white-knuckled death grip. Her whole body ached with the tense muscles of pent-up anxiety. Would she ever make it to Whitehaven?

  The sound of hooves pounding along the dirt road made her stop. Could it be the soldiers? Eyes wide, she scanned the road ahead and behind. There, behind her, were several horses kicking up a cloud of dirt. Panic rose to her throat as she jerked around, searching for a place to hide. She looked to the left and right, but all she saw was a lovely little valley where farmland reigned. Not a tree or building in sight.

  She could try to outrun them, couldn't she? Folly. That's all that was. Why hadn't she thought to bring a gun?

  Truth be known, she hadn't thought about what traveling alone would be like at all. She was so used to being on her own, though surrounded by people she knew and loved, that she hadn't imagined being alone with strangers, some possibly dangerous. It was quite different.

  Having no choice but to brazen it out, she thrust out her chin, threw her shoulders back, and continued on her way. Her horse, though, had other plans. As soon as the other horses drew near, he grew even more agitated, stepping from side to side in a strange dance and ignoring her haul on the reins.

  "Cease . . . whoa!" she hissed between her lips as a group of soldiers came to a stop around her. She looked up to see the dreaded Lieutenant Haggerty.

  Heart pounding, she pasted on a smile and turned to face him.

  "Lady Featherstone!" His face registered his shock. "Whatever are you doing on the open roads traveling alone? Why didn't you wait for my escort?"

  Alex tried not to openly look to heaven for help. "My dear Lieutenant. What a surprise. So . . . good to see you again," she choked out the words.

  "But, my lady, you haven't answered my question. You can't possibly be alone on the open roads! It isn't safe or fitting for a woman of your station . . . your—" He sputtered to a stop as if too aghast to finish.

  Alex dipped her head and gave him her prettiest smile. "As you say, sir. But alas, my coachman was struck down with an illness and I must get to Whitehaven. I've a ship to catch. I fear I insisted. It isn't so very far, is it?"

  The lieutenant's face turned an alarming shade of red and then, seeming to recover from his shock, his eyes narrowed at her. She thought of his behavior of the night before and her very real fear of him caused her blood to rush faster through her veins. But how to get rid of him?

  "Since you have so little regard for your reputation, Lady Featherstone, I see that I shall have to insist on accompanying you to Whitehaven." Before she had time to protest, he turned and barked out orders to his men. "Continue your patrols on the eastern roads from Carlisle. I will meet back up with you in a few days."

  "Sir, that is not necess—"

  He put up his gloved hand and snapped his head toward her. "Don't. Not another word. I insist."

  A deep, crawling panic washed over her. This man was offended with her and wanted to teach her a lesson . . . maybe more. The thought of what more meant made her shudder, but she was determined not to show him any fear. That would be exactly what he wanted. As the other men rode away, leaving the two of them alone on an empty road, she swallowed hard, very much afraid.

  As soon as the soldiers were out of sight, the lieutenant chuckled. Alex looked him in the eyes, dread pooling in her stomach. Before she had time to do anything, he reached over and grasped the reins of her horse.

  "Unhand him!" Alex screeched. She grasped hold of the other side of the reins and jerked to free it but he was too strong.

  "You are no gentleman! Unhand my horse!"

  The dark-haired man laughed, his mustache winging into a creepy smile of its own. "And you are no lady, traveling alone like a common harlot. Sit still!"

  Sorrel was not taking the tug-of-war any better than she was. He skidded to one side and then the other, trying to rip the reins from both their hands.

  "Ahhh!" A sudden rearing flung Alex backward where she flew through the air to land on her back with a loud humph, the breath knocked out of her. She lay dazed, unable to breathe, wondering if she was injured. Maybe this was it. Maybe she would never breathe again and she would die, right here and now. She would never know what had happened to her parents.

  No! She sat up with a short gasp and then another and another. Dizziness flooded her but she fought it, shaking her head and trying to stand to run. The lieutenant had dismounted and was coming toward her.

  "I've had enough of this nonsense. It's time to teach you a lesson."

  She looked up and then beyond him. The light of the sun glared in her eyes. She must be seeing things. She blinked several times. No, he was still there.

  A man stood in the middle of the road, a long wooden beam across his shoulders with a water bucket dangling from each side. He wore a long cape that swayed against his dusty boots as he walked toward them. He had a bright green apple in one hand and, as if from some story of old, he took a bite of it and then casually tossed it aside.

  The noise of the dropped apple caused the lieutenant to jerk around. He turned toward the stranger and took a few steps toward him. He reached for his gun, his hand lingering on the edge of it. "Hold, sir. This is none of your affair. Carry on your way."

  "Do you agree with his assessment, miss?" He directed his intense stare at Alex.


  She scrambled up and backed away. "No, I do not. I do not know this man. He threatened me. Please . . . help me."

  "That wouldn't be wise, old man." The lieutenant took another step forward and pulled out his gun. "I have no difficulty sending you to your Maker."

  Alex watched in a mixture of dread and fascination as, with catlike grace, he came up to the lieutenant. Before she knew what happened, faster than her eyes could track it, he swung one side of the wooden beam around and smacked the lieutenant against his arm, knocking the gun from his hand. Quicker yet, and before the lieutenant regained his balance, he swung the other side around and plowed wood and full bucket into the lieutenant's other side, drenching him with water.

  Alex took a few staggering steps toward the scene. As she grew closer, she recognized the face. It was the man from last night. The one in the common room who had been watching the lieutenant with those hard, blue eyes. Who was he?

  Admiration filled her as he threw off the beam. He looked older but moved with the strength and speed of a younger man. She watched in growing astonishment as he threw back his cape and pulled forth a long, wicked-looking sword. The sun caught the metal, the dazzling brightness hurting her eyes. It swished through the air with a voice of its own, playing with the lieutenant, making him sputter and dance and sweat.

  The lieutenant tried to pull his sword out of its long scabbard, but it seemed stuck and he appeared too busy trying to avoid her savior's sword to manage it.

  There was a stealthy grace in the older man's silent work. The sword said it all. Swooshing through the air it cut here and there, high and then low. He made it look like child's play while the lieutenant writhed in agony. Red started to appear on the lieutenant's shoulders, arms, thighs, and then in a sudden move that made Alex gasp, he held the blade's tip to the lieutenant's throat.

  "You'll be going home now," the mysterious man said in a deep voice that held a hint of an accent.