Her eyes cleared, “I know you will. Just as I know that my brother might be getting his happy ending soon.”
“Lady Cheltenham is changing her mind?” Heath asked.
“I think she is…” Penelope mused, “she didn’t say it, but I have a very strong feeling that she will give Eddie another chance. That is if my foolish brother does not ruin it again by being a coward.”
“I am sure he won’t,” Heath added.
She sniffed, “You don’t know my brother at all.”
Taking her arm, Heath guided them back to the house, and Mr. Gastrell showed them to the sitting room where Lord Allerton and Lady Cheltenham sat. The Earl broke his conversation with the lady, reached for a paper. “Mr. Murray, I think you might have done more than you thought.”
Flicking a look at it, Heath read, Duke Stratham convicted of international conspiracy based on Lord Hillbrook’s letters. Proof concluding Lord Hillbrook’s claims of collusion.
“Look at that,” Penelope said from beside him. “Seems like everyone has a happy ending.”
The End?
Extended Epilogue
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A Duke Under Her Spell
About the Book
Truly, there is magic in fairytales. And in her eyes, he found his own...
For as long as Marybeth Wright could remember, the imposing ruins of the ancient castle had always been a place of comfort. With knowledge of herbs and a small cottage passed down to her from her late grandmother, she spends her days in the quiet seclusion of the woods.
For Felix Hulford, Duke of Arkley, curing his ailing mother is his life’s purpose. Growing increasingly desperate, he decides to enlist the help of the old sage of the forest, only to discover that there’s nothing old about the striking healer that appears before him.
But she seems to be carrying a curse, for her arrival triggers a series of baffling happenings. Determined to discover who is behind the attacks on his sick mother, Marybeth and Felix come face to face with their worst fears.
And it all seems to be connected to Marybeth’s parentage and Blackleigh Castle’s fabled treasure…
Prologue
A dark feminine figure raced through the forest clutching a cloth wrapped bundle to her chest. She looked backward over her shoulder for her pursuers, stumbling in the darkness. The sound of clanking metal echoed through the trees. She scrambled back to her feet and took off running once more. She ran until she came to a clearing. In the distance she could just make out the ruins of an old hill fortress.
“Blackleigh Castle,” she whispered into the night.
The sound of approaching horses spurred her into action once more and she flew across the grassy knoll into the castle. She stumbled over fallen stones as she felt her way through the keep’s dark interior. “The witch is in the castle!” A man’s rough voice shouted to his compatriots at the base of the hill.
She moved silently from room to room until she found a loose stone. Removing the stone, she shoved her bundle inside, crossed herself in prayer, and replaced the stone. Heavy footsteps echoed off of the castle’s stone interior, causing fear to quicken her heart once more.
Gathering her skirts, she continued to move through the fortress’s many rooms until she reached a set of stairs. She climbed swiftly to the top and looked down over the side of the tower at the men and horses milling about below. “Ye are good and truly trapped now, witch,” a sinister voice from behind her sneered in victory. “I will now possess ye body and soul.” He moved toward her, the moonlight glinting in his coal black eyes.
“My body may be trapped, My Lord, but ye shall never possess my soul!” she proclaimed, climbing up onto the edge of the parapet.
“Ye would do well to climb back down from there, witch. There is no need for the Devil to have ye in his embrace just yet. We have much to discuss, me and thee,” the man stepped forward holding his hand out to her. The gleam of triumph in his eyes waning somewhat as he realized her intentions. “Where is it witch? What have ye done with it?”
“Ye will never have it, just as ye will never have me,” she promised.
“To sacrifice yourself in such a fashion will be for naught. For I shall find what I seek, with or without your assistance. I will tear this castle apart piece by piece, stone by stone,” he threatened.
The woman shook her head. “Neither ye, nor your progeny, will ever find that which ye seek. Ye will search and search, yet never find peace. Ye will leave naught but the same to your sons and their sons and their sons, but triumph will never be yours!”
“How dare ye lay a curse upon me, witch! After I have used your body up for my own pleasures until there is nothing left of ye but a ghost, I will skin the flesh from your bones and feed it to my dogs!”
She laughed, the wind whipping her hair about her face in riotous tendrils of silken ebony. “Do ye believe that the threat of violating my corpse will frighten me into doing your bidding? What do I care if ye use me thus? This body is naught but a vessel, an empty shell for the soul.”
“The Devil take ye!” the man exclaimed crossing himself at her brazen sacrilegious speech. “I will have what is mine!”
“Nay, ye will not, but ‘tis likely that ye will die in the trying. The Devil and I will anxiously await your arrival in Hell, My Lord,” she chuckled bowing with a flourish. And with that she took a step backwards into the night.
“Nay!” the man shouted rushing forward to stop her, but he was too late. He could do naught but watch as she plummeted to the earth below, her hair and clothing billowing in the wind like raven’s wings, her curse hanging in the air where she had once stood. The sound of her body hitting the ground below echoed back up to him from the base of the tower’s stone wall exterior. “Nay,” he spoke out in denial once more.
The wind howled in fury at the passing of its chosen lady, screaming through the stone ruins as if it bore upon its power the spirit of vengeance. A cold shiver passed along the man’s spine as her curse whispered along his skin. Never…
Chapter 1
Felix Hulford, Duke of Arkley, sat at his mother’s bedside holding her hand. The doctor snapped his black leather bag shut, a solemn look on his face. “I regret to inform Your Grace, but in my professional opinion your mother is dying of a broken heart.”
“A broken heart? What nonsense is this?” Felix retorted angrily, questioning the physician’s diagnosis.
“’Tis not uncommon among the weaker sex upon the loss of a beloved husband,” the doctor asserted.
“What, Doctor, possesses you with the audacity to believe that my mother could in any way be described as a member of the ‘weaker sex’? You are speaking of Eleanor Hulford, Dowager Duchess of Arkley, a beloved favorite cousin of His Majesty the King and His Royal Highness the Prince Regent. You will speak with the respect that her station and familial connections dictate. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, of course, Your Grace. Please forgive my impertinence.” The doctor bowed in humble surrender.
The Dowager Duchess leaned forward and laid a hand on her son’s arm. “His Grace, my son, is simply worried. We have seen a great many physicians in the hope of a cure, and none have been able to offer a diagnosis. You are the best in your field, are you not, Doctor Standish?”
“That I am, Your Grace.”
“All we ask is that you do your very best. If you are not up to the task, all you need do is say so.” The Duchess offered the challenge with a gentleness that belied her words.
“I assure you, Your Grace, that I am indeed up to the task and shall not rest until we have reached
a desired conclusion.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” The Dowager Duchess nodded gracefully, leaning back against her pillows once more.
The Dowager Duchess had been suffering from painful swollen knees, irritating skin rashes, terrible headaches, burning fevers, never-ending fatigue, and at times fell into a temporary state of paralysis. The first time that her body had ceased to function properly had frightened the both of them immeasurably. She had collapsed and fallen down the stairs, nearly breaking her neck.
It had all started with the rash, then the fever, then the headaches. The swelling had come next and after it the paralysis. They had seen every doctor within a reasonable distance of the estate. Doctor Standish was a well-respected physician from London and had come highly recommended by the King’s own personal physician. Somewhat unorthodox in his methods, Doctor Standish was well praised for his results.
After standing in thought for a moment, the doctor turned and pulled a wooden cylindrical device from his bag. He placed the device against the Dowager Duchess’s chest. “Doctor Standish?” Felix questioned eyeing the odd contraption.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. This is a new invention by a friend of mine, René Laennec, a physician at the Necker-Enfants Malades Hospital in Paris. It is used for mediate auscultation.” The Dowager Duchess raised her brow in question. “Excuse me, Your Grace, I sometimes forget that I am not speaking with my fellow physicians. It is used to listen to the inner workings of the body, the heart, the lungs, the liver. He calls it a stethoscope.” He extended it to Felix to examine.
“How does it work?” Felix stepped forward taking the proffered instrument. “Does it amplify sound such as an ear trumpet?”
“Yes, that is very much the idea, Your Grace.” The doctor smiled, pleased at the Duke’s intelligence.
“Marvelous!” Felix moved over to the doctor. “May I?” he asked gesturing toward the man’s chest.
“Yes, of course, Your Grace.” The doctor puffed his chest out for easier access.
Felix held the stethoscope up to the physician’s chest and placed his ear on the other end. The doctor’s heart beat true and steady. “Positively marvelous,” he murmured. “Mother you must hear this.” He moved over to his mother’s bedside and held the stethoscope up to his own chest then leaned down so that she might place her ear to the device.
The Dowager Duchess’s eyes widened in surprise. She smiled in delight. “How inventive!”
“Indeed,” Doctor Standish agreed. “Doctor Laennec is exactly that. He sent it to me in his last post.”
“We had heard that you were quite unorthodox and now I see why. I am pleased at your willingness to consider alternative methods; however, I must admit to being quite surprised at your previous diagnosis when you are so advanced in your methodology.”
“My apologies, Your Grace. I fear it is the only one I can give you at this time, but I will not rest until I supply you with a better, more precise alternative. I fear there is still much we do not know in the field of medicine.”
Felix nodded and handed the doctor back his stethoscope. The physician moved forward and began a second, more thorough examination of the Dowager Duchess’s person. Felix knew from past experience that male doctors were hesitant to examine female patients in any truly invasive manner as it was deemed inappropriate, but he and his mother had long since passed the point of caring about such indelicacies. They simply desired a cure above all else, societal strictures be damned.
Once the doctor completed his second examination, he put away his instruments and stood just as solemnly as before. “I have nothing new that I can tell you, Your Grace. I have no other diagnosis to offer. It is clear that Her Grace’s health is failing, and I cannot be certain how much time she has left, but it is my advice that you prepare yourselves for the worst. I have not known of very many other cases such as this, but in each one I regret to report that they did not survive.”
Felix and the Dowager Duchess exchanged a look of knowing sorrow. “That, my good doctor, is unacceptable to me.”
“As it is to me, Your Grace.” Doctor Standish bowed. “I will do all I can, but I am certain that it will not be enough. I encourage you to keep looking for a cure; however, it is highly unlikely that you will find one. I will go to London and consult with my fellow physicians, then return to Arkley Hall to look in on you upon the morrow.”
Felix nodded and arose to escort the doctor to the bedchamber door where the butler, Mr. Wheatly, awaited to take him the rest of the way. The Dowager Duchess’s lady’s maid, Mrs. Snow, entered the room and aided in putting Her Grace’s person in order once more. Felix stepped out to give his mother some privacy and walked down to the library. He sat down behind his desk and stared out the window in thought.
There must be something more we can do. I will not accept defeat, not now, not ever.
Pulling out several pieces of paper he wrote missives to the remaining doctors on their list. They were not the best in the field by any standard, which was why he had not written them as of yet, but desperation made allowances for unconventional means. Perhaps they would have knowledge or experience that had passed by their better-known colleagues. At this point he was willing to try anything. When he was done writing letters, he arose and called for the butler.
“Yes, Your Grace?” Mr. Wheatly inquired as he entered.
“Please see that these letters are delivered to London straight away. We cannot afford to lose any more time. We will simply summon them en masse. Please see that a groom is dispatched immediately.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Mr. Wheatly bowed, took the letters, and left to do as bid.
Felix sighed and raked his fingers through his dark wavy hair. “Not that any of it will do much good,” he mumbled knowing that a lesser physician was even more unlikely to have an answer, but he could not afford to leave any option unexplored. Leaving the library, he climbed the stairs two at a time and entered the Dowager Duchess’s bedchamber once more. “Mother?” he questioned.
“Yes, I am awake,” she answered, opening her eyes.
“I am sorry to disturb you. I can come back later.”
“Nonsense, you are not disturbing me at all. I was simply going over the options that remain to us in my mind. There are very few, I fear.”
“I was doing the same, and have sent out another series of letters to physicians in London.”
“I hate to see you throwing away good money for ineffectual treatments and diagnoses.”
“It is nothing. A paltry sum. Worry yourself not over such matters, Mother. ‘Tis not good for you to worry so.”
“Ah, but I do. So much falls on your shoulders, my son. It would ease my mind considerably if you were to have a helpmeet at your side. Have you given any more thought about our last discussion on the subject?”
“Paying court to Lady Cordelia Weatherton?”
“Yes, I would be ever so relieved to see you settled in a good marriage before I depart this earth. At least then I would be assured that you were being looked after. We all need a companion in life, Felix. I had your father. Lady Cordelia Weatherton would be the perfect wife for a nobleman of your standing. The Weatherton family are of a strong and ancient bloodline.”
“Mother, I have no interest at all in marriage, ancient bloodline or otherwise. My primary concern right now is your return to good health. Naught else matters to me. There is plenty of time for such frivolous matters as marriage later.”
“Marriage is not frivolous, Felix. It is absolutely necessary for a man of your station, as you well know.”
“Yes, Mother, I am aware.”
“Do you not wish to see me happy in my last days?” The Dowager Duchess asked, her beautiful green eyes, a mirror of his own, turning sad and troubled.
“Of course, I do.” Felix frowned at such a question.
“Then marry.” Her eyes pleaded for him to take her request seriously.
Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingers to his temple. “I wi
ll consider your request to court Lady Cordelia Weatherton, but I cannot make any promises as to marriage.”
“That is all I ask, my son, is that you make the attempt.”
Felix nodded, then bent down to kiss her forehead. The Dowager Duchess looked so pale as she lay among the long dark curling tendrils of her hair and the stark white of the bed linens. He traced the tired drawn features of her face, remembering a time when she had been healthy, her cheeks full and rosy. Looking at his mother was like looking at his own reflection, only in the feminine. Felix had gotten his tall height and muscular build from his father, but his looks and coloring were all his mother.
“I will leave you to rest for now, but later we should go and sit in the gardens together. The roses are in full bloom and are lovelier than ever this season. A more beautiful collection I have yet to see.” He praised his mother’s gardening endeavors in hopes that it might inspire her to continue fighting the good fight. She had been an avid gardener before the mysterious illness had robbed her of such joys. “I will have the men move your chaise lounge out onto the grounds for luncheon.”
“That would be lovely indeed, my dear. Thank you,” the Dowager Duchess agreed. “Until then I believe I will take your advice and rest.”
Felix nodded his approval, bowed over her hand in affectionate respect, then left the room. Leaving the manor house, he strolled down to the stables, had his horse saddled, then rode out into the forest. He was in desperate need of exercise to clear his head. Lady Cordelia Weatherton… he shook his head in displeasure. He had danced with her at the last ball of the Season, and since then his mother had desired their pairing.
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