Castled: Duke Society Series

by Robinson, Gina

  I laughed suddenly, unable to help myself. "You're making that up to make me feel better."

  "I am not," he said. "I'm telling the truth. Ask Olive. She knows the legends and history as well as I do."

  "So all that clanking I heard last night, which you previously hinted was the furnace, could have been my enchanted knight of shining armor springing to life to protect me?"

  "Could be," Gill said with a twinkle in his eye. "Were you in any danger? Are you in any danger?"

  "Not that I know of." I didn't want to tell him about Christopher. "I think I'd rather have a living creature around to sniff out ghosts and bad guys than take my chances with an enchanted hunk of metal."

  "Smart woman," Gill said. "A good dog would be my recommendation. Dogs have many highly developed senses greater than our own. They can't smell ghosts, of course. But they have keen night vision and can hear sounds at frequencies we can't. Their whiskers are sensitive to the slightest movement. The company of a good dog would make you sleep sounder at night."

  "Yes!" I was excited. "That's exactly what I was thinking—a dog. Dogs seem to have good sense about hauntings." I winked. "A nice, cuddly, loyal, brave breed of some kind. Or a mutt. It doesn't matter to me. One that would be a house dog, obviously. But robust enough to go outside with me on my walks and rambles through the orchards."

  Gill sat up straighter, alert, that twinkle dancing in his eyes again. "We may be able to help each other out, duchess. I happen to have a sweet pup I've been looking to find a home for."

  "Gill. I'll have to watch out for you. You're very smooth. I believe you just manipulated me right into looking at your dog."

  "Manipulated isn't the word I'd use. Giving you first right of refusal, your grace. Wait until you see her. If she doesn't melt your heart, then you don't have one. This pup is a prize. Last of a litter our bitch had a while back. Six months old. House trained. Cute as a button and sweet tempered. She's technically a cavador—half golden Labrador, half Cavalier King Charles spaniel. Breeders breed cavadors. People love them. But this litter was an accident."

  "An accident?" I said. "You mean like that poor ancient duchess's first child? Did your bitch slip out when she was in heat? We had a dog do that once when I was growing up."

  He nodded, looking rueful. "Must have. We can't figure it out. The bitch is my wife Ivy's little spaniel. She's a beautiful little purebred. We didn't have her fixed because we wanted to breed her. Maybe show or sell the pups. I keep four golden labs for the duke as part of my job. One male, three females. They're hunting dogs. Good dogs, too, and good hunters.

  "Ivy and I still don't know how it happened, only that my male lab got to her spaniel somehow. Turn your head for a moment…"

  I laughed. "Dogs can be like children that way."

  "We only found out after the puppies were born. I can't blame my lab. That little spaniel is a beauty. And my male is bred and trained to be a hunter. The rest of the litter were all more lab than spaniel. We sold them very quickly. But Charlie is the runt and very regal. Much more house dog and spaniel than lab. Ivy couldn't part with her until she was sure Charlie would survive and thrive. But now we're expecting another litter, a purebred spaniel litter. With more pups on the way, we'll soon be overrun. Ivy's been after me to help her find a good home for Charlie. If that home were the castle, where Ivy could visit her…"

  I laughed. "Charlie?"

  "Lady Charlotte Hardison," Gill said. "Charlie for short. If you'd like to meet her, I can take you to see her after breakfast. If you don't mind me making a few stops to check on the deer herd along the way. The winter was hard on them. There was an outbreak of black tongue last fall. I'm hoping to see that we'll have a lot of fawns."

  "I know nothing about deer," I said. "Except that they can be rough on vegetation and fall is hunting season."

  Gill laughed. "They rut and mate in October and November. The fawns are generally born in April or May. I've been out making a count of pregnant does, trying to see how we stand. It's my job to keep the wildlife on the estate healthy and in balance." He broke into a discussion of the animal life on the estate, his credentials, his routines.

  I listened, fascinated. His enthusiasm was catching, but I was dreaming of a little dog.

  After breakfast, I spent the morning with Gill counting pregnant deer. It was a new experience. The estate was impressive. But I was like a child waiting for Christmas. I'd wanted a dog of my own since leaving home. Finally, our deer census finished for the day, Gill texted Ivy that we were on our way. He lived in the village in a stone house that had been in his family almost as long as the castle had been in Noah's.

  Ivy greeted us at the door with a dog in her arms that could only be Charlie—blonde like a golden lab, long ears, with curly hair like a spaniel. A face that would melt a thousand hearts. Nearly fully grown, but very much a puppy and the size of a house dog.

  The moment I saw Charlie, I knew she was meant to be mine. Our eyes met, and it was love at first sight. I had a hard time concentrating on my manners and introducing myself to Ivy.

  "You want to hold her," Ivy said. "I see it in your eyes."

  "May I?" I held out my arms for her.

  When Ivy put her in my arms, the deal was sealed. Charlie licked my chin and gave me a kiss. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gill and Ivy exchange a look.

  "Charlie's a friendly dog," Ivy said. "But I've never seen her bond with anyone quite so quickly or so affectionately."

  "Oh," I said. "I love her already. I must have her." I scratched Charlie beneath the chin. "Name your price."

  "We wouldn't dream of selling her to you, duchess," Ivy said. "But we'd be happy to let you adopt her. As long as we have visiting rights."

  "It's a deal," I said without thinking. Sure, I'd owe them one. But what would that matter? "But you must let me reimburse you at least enough to cover her shots and six months' maintenance."

  We agreed on an amount and struck a deal. Ivy packed up Charlie's bed, toys, and a supply of food for me. Gill drove me back to the castle and helped me settle Charlie in. She took to the castle immediately.

  "I'm forever grateful," I said to Gill, watching Charlie explore. "I feel safer already."

  "She'll be good company, I promise," he said, and gave me a few last instructions.

  When he left, I took a selfie of Charlie and me and texted it to Noah. I have a new roommate. You've been replaced. I'm in love. Charlie has stolen my heart.

  I was surprised when he replied immediately. I turn my back for a moment and you fall in love with another boy.

  I replied, Charlie's a she.

  Even worse.

  Chapter 12

  Grace

  That afternoon, I took Charlie with me when I met with Dan Cross, our facilities manager. He was responsible for all the buildings on the estate, including the castle and all outbuildings. He drove us across the holdings through the orchards.

  I strained for a look at the apple trees, feeling my excitement rise. The orchards looked healthy. "They're just now in the silver tip stage."

  The orchards shone in the sun like the armor of a silver knight as the first stage of spring activity colored them. At the first touch of spring heat, the trees and buds begin to come to life. Before the green of the leaf buds appear, they're silver tipped. "What kind of apples do we grow?"

  "You'll have to ask Jeremy Watts for certain," Dan said. "He'll be happy to give you all the details. Dabinetts, Kingston Blacks, and Cider Lady Ellen's Fingers, I do know that much."

  Cider-making apples were very different from eating or juice apples, the kinds of apples my family had grown in Wenatchee. Because of my experience in the cider industry, I was familiar with some of the varieties Dan mentioned. Unlike eating apples, cider apples were bitter, with lots of tannin and high acidity.

  "Cider Lady Ellen's Fingers? That's rather specific. I've heard of Cider Lady Fingers, which is a rather generic class of apple that describes long, rather than round, appl
es."

  "There's a story behind it, I'm sure," Dan said. "But I don't know it. Watts will. Count on it."

  I was eager to meet Jeremy Watts, but Olive had said he was at some kind of apple convention. I wouldn't be able to meet with him until tomorrow.

  Dan drove us to an old, weathered stone farm building with a thatched roof. It was a long building that looked like it belonged on the front of a postcard. It was quintessentially what an American thought something English should look like.

  My pulse quickened as I hopped out of the car with Charlie in my arms.

  "Funnily enough, this used to be a cidery back in the sixteen hundreds through the early nineteen hundreds," Dan said. "World War I took its toll on the estate. No men around to run it. It was shut down and used as a barn until the late duke remodeled it in the nineties, when he tried his hand at winemaking for a time. Of course, we're no good at growing grapes here, really. We had to import them.

  "The old duke was pretty sharp at business. No one knows why he decided on wine instead of cider. He was a connoisseur of fine wines and a man who followed his passion. That's really the only explanation. He certainly never explained himself to me." Dan winked. "The wine business was a failure. People around here prefer cider. He shut it down within a few years. But the equipment is still here. I think you'll find the vats can be cleaned and modified for cider."

  My eyes were wandering over the building and grounds. I was already imagining a garden and outdoor tasting area.

  "This way." Dan unlocked the door. "With a little maintenance, we should be able to get this place up and running in no time."

  I stepped inside. The floors were concrete. It had been recently swept, but still smelled musty.

  Dan flipped on a light. "This is the production part of the facility. Once we clean the vats and make sure they're working properly, you should be able to cool your cider and produce thousands of gallons."

  I barely heard him. I was in cider-making heaven. The facility was perfect for what I had in mind. How could anyone have enough money to shutter a place like this for decades? It could have been a productive cidery all these years.

  "Grape presses?" I asked.

  "This way." I followed him to another part of the former winery. "Pretty near what you need for cider, I should think."

  I set Charlie down and inspected the presses. "Some of these need repair."

  "There are plenty of craftsmen in the area who can do the job."

  I nodded. "Oak barrels?"

  "The next room over." I followed him again, with Charlie on my heels. "Here's the aging room."

  Walls were stacked high with wonderful, handmade oak barrels.

  I inhaled deeply and ran my hand over the old stone wall. "Do you feel it?" My pulse raced. "I can almost smell it."

  He gave me a funny look. "Duchess?"

  "The yeast." I was almost rapturous. "All the lovely, natural wild yeast that is going to ferment our juice and give us a unique, perfect handcrafted hard cider."

  "Yes, ma'am," Dan said dutifully.

  I laughed. "You aren't a cider maker, obviously."

  "No."

  "I can tell. Yeast is what ferments apple juice and turns it into cider. You can add yeast, like many of the large commercial cider makers do. Or you can let a jug of apple juice sit, and it will ferment all on its own because it's picked up yeast from its surroundings. It sounds easy to make cider, doesn't it? The problem is that juice that sits on the counter can quickly turn acidic, right into vinegar. Most of the time, it's pretty bad.

  "You want the perfect yeast. Different environments produce different yeasts. Some better than others. Some easier to control and manage. Some that provide better flavor as they ferment the juice. This place is heavenly. The ancient building. The grounds. I have a feeling the wild yeast here is very delicious indeed."

  Dan looked amused by my excitement. "Good for us, then, duchess. Do you want to see the tasting room?" He led me into another room and opened the shuttered windows. Light flooded the room, revealing a tasting counter, empty shelves, and furniture stacked against the walls.

  The size and general rough ambience were perfect as well. With a little updating, I could see our cider brand coming into focus. I pictured the tasting room full of tourists, providing another revenue stream for the castle. I imagined our lovely profit.

  A large mirror hung behind the tasting counter. It was covered with canvas, as were several pictures on the wall. I walked over to the largest picture and gently lifted the corner of the canvas to take a peek. All I saw was the tips of some boots. "This canvas is unwieldy."

  "Here." Dan came to my aid. "Let me." He wrangled the canvas off as we both choked on the dust.

  When the dust settled, I stood back to inspect the artwork of the former winery. My breath caught. It was a reproduction of a painting of three tall, well-built men in their prime. They were dressed in expensive suits from the last century. They stood carelessly and full of confidence, obviously posed. But it was the expressions on their faces—wild, reckless, full of life and humor. As if the world amused them. They were handsome, very handsome. But more than that, they radiated virility and a ruthless beauty. My pulse quickened just looking at them. And even more startlingly, one of them bore a strong resemblance to Noah.

  Dan came up beside me. "The original is in London, at their club. The most prestigious gentlemen's club in the country. The painting was something of a scandal when it was done. So I've heard from the older generations here."

  "I can see why. There's something about it that radiates…sensuality. The set of their smiles. The looks on their faces. They're clearly lusty."

  "Yes," Dan said. "And I wouldn't look too closely at the tight straining of their trousers. The trousers were baggy in that era, but…" He laughed. "All I can say is that ladies like that picture. Some of the women in the village still talk about it."

  "But who are they?" I asked, thinking I had a good idea who at least one of them was.

  Dan looked surprised. "The three dukes. Lifelong friends. That's the Duke of Manly. He passed on last fall on his hundredth birthday and wedding. That's the Duke of Axton. He's the last one still living. He's also a hundred years old. And that's the late Duke of Hardison in his prime."

  "Yes," I whispered, and frowned. "Noah looks a bit like him." I shivered. That ruthless, beautiful look in his eyes and twist of his mouth—that was Noah. I'd teased Noah about that expression for years. And I knew he used it on women. I turned to Dan. "But how can that be? They're generations apart and only distant relations."

  "You see it, too," Dan said, still looking at the picture. "The Marston genes are strong. As is the family look. It's a good thing they're a handsome family. Makes for a handsome village."

  I didn't catch his meaning. I raised an eyebrow.

  "Half the village has some Marston blood, I would imagine. The old dukes married for power and connections, not love. But lust is in their genes as well as ruthlessness. I think it's bred into them. I haven't heard of a single duke in the line who wasn't straying outside the marital bed.

  "They made their share of bastards all over the countryside. Some of the dukes took care of their children and mistresses and are remembered fondly in local lore. Stories of others are not so kind. Look around at the people here. You'll soon grow attuned to it and see the Marston look everywhere."

  I stared at him, studying him for the look.

  He caught my meaning and laughed. I'd have to be subtler in the future. "Yes, I'm supposedly descended from a bastard of one of the dukes from the eighteen hundreds. But if you dig into my family history, I'm sure there's more Marston blood in me than that, given how long my family has been here."

  "Has no one done a DNA test?" I was intrigued. And disturbed. Was lustiness and unfaithfulness bred into Noah, too?

  "I suppose we could," Dan said. "But what would it matter? Still there are those who are jealous enough of the legitimate line that you don't want to cross the
m, duchess."

  I froze. "Is that a warning?"

  "Take it as you will," Dan said. "Public opinion is powerful around here, and there are your share of people who want what you have."

  I suppressed a shudder. "The late duke, Hardly, did he have a…reputation like you just described?"

  Dan pointed to the picture again. "You tell me, duchess. He was a wild one. That look on his face. Do you think he was one to forgo the pleasures of the women around him?"

  "Oh."

  "Well," Dan said, "he had no surviving legitimate issue left to inherit. He could have left the estate to any of his out-of-wedlock children, but the title would never have gone to them. It was important to the late duke that the two be left intact together.

  "Old Hardly never publicly acknowledged any bastards. If he'd had any sons or grandsons he'd felt were worthy of the estate, I'm certain he would have tried to legitimize them. Powerful men like he was have ways of making that happen. But you can see why there are those who think they have more right to the estate than the new duke."

  I hadn't really thought about that. I was discovering I was more naïve than I'd thought. I hugged Charlie tight. "So I'll know a Marston by how much they resemble my husband?"

  Dan nodded. "I expect you will. The Marston bastards throughout the centuries have been good cover for the current duke here. It's hard to point to the duke in power as being someone's father because of looks when almost anyone in the village could be the father."

  I took a closer look at Dan again. Yes, there was something familiar about him.

  Chapter 13

  Grace

  Charlie and I had dinner together in our living quarters. I was much happier having someone to eat with than eating alone. And Charlie was a cuddly, undiscriminating eating companion. But wow, did she have begging eyes and the cutest little whine.

  I had an appointment in the morning with Olive for a castle tour. By the time I got home from my tour with Dan, Olive's workday was over. I had so many questions for her. Including many about the late duke.