Castled: Duke Society Series

by Robinson, Gina

  Since breakfast with Gill, I'd been dying of curiosity about Lady Bret Pearce, Noah's new financial advisor and money manager. It was a funny thing—for one of the few times in my life, I was jealous over Noah's attentions toward someone else. I'd always been so secure in them before. Maybe too secure. Maybe arrogant. I had to face the very real truth that I'd taken him for granted.

  I'd had a few moments of jealousy before. But that was when we were young, and I was less mature and more possessive of his time. I'd never liked the thought of losing Noah's friendship because of another woman monopolizing him. But this was a different shade of jealousy. Unfamiliar and unsettling territory. I had no evidence at all that Noah was even slightly interested in Lady Bret. But Gill's warning to be on my guard was at the front of my mind all the same.

  It seemed I should be on my guard about everything, from financial advisor to village people and crazy ex-fiancés.

  I settled in on the sofa with Charlie on my lap to do some Internet stalking of Lady Bret. It didn't take a whole lot of skill. I typed her name in, and everything I wanted to know about her popped right up. And the worst of it was that Gill was absolutely right. Lady Bret was stylish, elegant, titled, rich, reportedly charming and well connected, and drop-dead gorgeous. And worst of all—single. Her name had been linked with many wealthy, handsome, and, most importantly, titled men over recent history. Even an American like me could see what she was up to. She wanted an estate and an elevated title. To my biased eye, Noah was better looking and higher in rank than any of her previous boyfriends.

  I did an image search. Pages upon pages of images of Lady Bret turned up. It was apparent that she courted publicity with the skill of a pro. As I studied the images, my conversation with Dan came back to me—half the village people were descended from Marston bastards. One look at Lady Bret and it was clear she had the same ruthless twist to her mouth as Noah and the late duke. The same startling eyes, right down to the shape and color. Judging from the way she played up her eyes with makeup, she clearly knew their allure. Did she also know they gave away her true ancestry?

  The Marston eyes were enchanting, mesmerizing, and expressive. I'd always loved and envied Noah's. They were a certain shade of blue that was arresting and hard to describe. Something between stormy gray-blue and the deep blue of the height of the sky. Blue eyes weren't supposed to be dominant. But somehow, in Marstons, they were. Why hadn't brown knocked them out of existence at some point? Maybe I should call in Mendel and make him explain. It seemed like a hole in his theory.

  I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. Old Hardly had been in love with Lady Bret's grandma. Had it been more than a casual flirtation? Had he knocked her up?

  I stopped myself right there. There were, of course, myriad explanations. Any of the village men could have been the culprit. It was also possible Lord Pearce, Lady Bret's grandfather, was in some way related to the Marstons. Olive, with her knowledge of the castle, would know. I thought about texting her, but since it was after hours, as her employer, that seemed like an abuse of power. I'd ask her tomorrow.

  In the meantime, I searched Lady Bret's family tree and images from her childhood. Although British nobility was intertwined and inbred throughout the ages, I didn't see any obvious connection between the Marstons and Lord Pearce, her grandfather. Nor did I see any of the Marston look in him. Her mother had no resemblance or connection to them either. But her father—yes, there were the Marston eyes and mouth. He was a handsome man.

  My imagination, usually so vivid and wild, could only draw the obvious, and most likely, conclusion—Lady Bret was old Hardly's granddaughter. But if that were true, why hadn't he left the estate to her?

  The answer was simple, but ruthless—the title, of course. According to Mr. Thorne, the title and the estate must be left together to the heir with the family name—in Hardly's opinion, at least.

  But—on a scale of one to ten—just how ruthless was old Hardly? Had he been hoping Noah would fall in love with Lady Bret on his own? And god complex that the late duke had, why hadn't he manipulated Noah into marrying her? When the old duke died, Noah had been single. No girlfriend on the horizon as far as the world could see. Had old Hardly hoped he could throw Noah and Lady Bret together? Play matchmaker from the grave? Get the estate all in the family?

  He certainly seemed capable of at least trying. And yet Mr. Thorne had seemed quite pleased when Noah announced he was marrying me. The solicitor had even smiled to himself as he watched us sign the license. Was there still bad blood between the Pearce and Marston families, then? Had Hardly never forgiven Lady Bret's grandma for jilting him and marrying Lord Pearce?

  I sat, petting Charlie mindlessly while my mind whirled, searching for answers to one enigma after the next. Old Hardly trusted Lady Bret with his finances, but not with owning his estate? And not with his heir? That made no sense to me.

  It suddenly occurred to me that the living quarters had been cleared of all the late duke's personal items before I arrived and moved in. Where had they been moved to? Maybe they held the answers. Did Noah have them or know where they were?

  I also thought of something else Gill had said—the villagers suspected old Hardly of killing Noah's father and brother. A chill went down my spine. Just how deep did the renowned Marston ruthless streak run in the late duke? Would he really have killed two people for the sake of his legacy? And was there any proof to support the accusation? Noah, and the authorities, were satisfied the deaths were accidental. Should I be?

  In another setting—for example, back in my cozy condo in Seattle—I would have laughed at my suspicions. But here, in this mysterious and dark place with its Gothic architecture to add to the atmosphere, I shuddered. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Imagination was both a wonderful and perilous gift.

  Charlie sat up in my lap and cocked her head. Her ears perked up as she listened for something. She began barking almost before I heard the clanking sound in the tower overhead. Before I could stop her, my fearless, and foolhardy, little pup jumped out of my lap and bounded for the stairs.

  My feet were tucked beneath me. It took me a vital second to unwind myself. By the time I was on my feet, Charlie was halfway up the stairs. "Charlie! Charlie, come back. Sit. Stop."

  She kept barking, paying no attention to me as she continued up the stairs. Clearly, she needed obedience training. But she'd been so well behaved for Gill.

  I had no choice but to follow her. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, Charlie was racing toward the tower and the huge, rounded double doors into the bedroom suites. Someone had left the doors open a crack. I shivered. Who had been in here? The cleaning crew didn't come until later.

  Charlie squeezed into the space between the doors and disappeared into the anteroom. I followed, still calling for her. The doors were heavy and slowed me down even further. When I swung them open, Charlie was standing at the foot of the empty suit of armor guarding the duchess chamber, barking at it furiously.

  My mouth went dry. I felt almost lightheaded, my pulse was beating so fast. The suit of armor had moved from its original position. Very slightly. But it wasn't in the exact spot or pose it had been before. I was sure of it. Something about it was different.

  "You're barking up the wrong empty suit." I scooped her up, scratching her beneath her chin, trying to calm her. The chill swept past me. My mouth went dry.

  It took me a minute to calm myself after the chill passed and I could find my voice again. "It's all right, girl. It's okay. This is my shining armor without a knight. They tell me that it's enchanted to protect me."

  I stared at the suit of armor. It was a grand suit, shining and tall, silver embellished with gold and intricately detailed. A real sword, with a heavy hilt, balanced between his legs. It was made for someone with money, position, and power. There was a bare instant where I swear it tipped its head at me.

  "Are you a good knight? Or a bad knight?" I asked, unable to force my gaze away from it.
<
br />   Charlie wriggled to get out of my arms. I finally relented and set her down. She ran to the door to the duke's bedroom and began barking again.

  "Yes, I'm with you, girl. What's in there?" I tried the doors. They were still locked. I was totally creeped out now and glad for Charlie's company, even if she had run into the face of haunting danger.

  I picked her up again. "There's nothing to see here, girl. Let's go." I carried her to the exit to the tower, pausing at the doors to look back over my shoulder at the armor. It hadn't moved and wasn't waving me good night. But the doors had closed.

  I was certain I'd left them wide open. There was that damn shiver down my spine again. I opened the doors and let Charlie and me out. With satisfaction, I pulled them closed behind us, latching them firmly.

  My phone rang in my pocket at that moment. It startled me almost as badly as if I'd seen a ghost. I jumped and put a hand to my heart, power-walking down the hall and stairs as I pulled it out of my pocket while tightly holding Charlie. I answered, out of breath. "Noah."

  "Gray? You sound winded. Have you taken up jogging our extensive gardens?" He sounded amused.

  "You almost scared me to death," I said through ragged breaths.

  "Me? By calling? Now I'm in the same category as the ghosts? You scare easily, duchess."

  Charlie chose that moment to bark. I jumped again, holding on to her tightly. I couldn't face another encounter upstairs.

  "Is that the famous Charlie?" Noah asked. "Is she the culprit who's scaring you?"

  "Yes, it's Charlie. And yes, she did give me a scare. She ran upstairs to investigate a noise in the bedchambers. That damn suit of armor was clanking again."

  "Did you catch it in the act?" Noah asked.

  "No. I did not," I said, indignant he wasn't worried about my safety. "And I don't want to."

  "Damn, Gray. Get it on your phone next time," Noah said. "A video of a haunted suit of armor coming to life would mean big tourist money for us and keep the castle in the family."

  "Charlie, tell your new daddy to fuck off." I held the phone up to her so she could scold him with her bark.

  "New daddy. Whoa," Noah said. "Hands up. Backing off. I'm not sure I'm up to daddyhood so fast on the heels of our quickie wedding. I'm still getting used to being a husband."

  "It would be easier to get used to if we'd been together for longer than five minutes. Fatherhood's part of the deal, isn't it, duke?"

  He hesitated. There was a telling silence.

  "Noah?"

  "Yeah, yeah. Of course it is. Sire a human child. Those are the terms, if I remember correctly."

  What was up with him? Why had he hesitated?

  "Noah, why is the door to your bedroom locked?"

  "Locked? What?"

  "While we were upstairs being playing ghost hunter, Charlie also barked like crazy at the door to the duke's bedroom. I tried to get in to check it out, but it was locked. No amount of rattling the door broke it loose."

  There was that pause again.

  "I hope you took a softball bat with you," he said. "Some kind of weapon. Never investigate a noise without a weapon."

  "A weapon wouldn't do much good against the supernatural."

  "It could have been a rat or mouse, human or otherwise." He knew how irrationally scared I was of rats and mice.

  "You're avoiding the question," I said. "That's not allowed between us. Upfront and honest, that's always been the deal."

  "I don't know why it's locked. I guess because it has valuable shit inside." There was an edge to his voice, like he didn't quite believe himself. "Seriously, Gray. If you're worried, call security. Don't take any chances. We're not just ordinary people anymore. We're people who own valuable crap that other people would like to get their hands on."

  "We're fine." I was proud of sounding braver than I felt. "How would someone get in without tripping the alarm? We have the best security system money can buy, right?"

  "Just be careful, Gray."

  "Before or after I catch a ghost on my cell phone?"

  He laughed again. "This is two nights in a row that the armor has clanked, or something has. Call Dan Cross. Have him get a crew up there tomorrow and check it out. See what's going on. Have him check for drafts. Maybe the flue in the fireplace is partially open. Maybe we have a pest problem. There has to be a rational explanation. Whatever it is, I don't want you scared every night."

  I smiled to myself. It was just like Noah to try to fix things. "Will do. Now, back to the original point—the duchess's suite is also filled with valuable antiques, and it's not locked. Besides, who's going to steal anything from your bedroom? Me? Charlie? It's not like we want your dirty underwear or could easily pawn the family portraits."

  His answering laugh sounded nervous. I'd known Noah a lifetime. I knew how to differentiate between his laughs, and I knew when he was nervous. "Just a guess. You don't have a key?"

  "No."

  "Huh."

  This was all very strange. Maybe my encounter with the chill upstairs was coloring me.

  "Okay. I'll text Olive and tell her to get you a key tomorrow."

  "Thank you." I relaxed. "I hope you're calling to say you're coming home? I miss you. And, obviously, I could use a man around here to check out unexplained noises. There are a lot of them."

  "About that," he said. "I'm actually calling with bad news. It looks like I'll have to fly to Scotland this weekend to look over some of our Scottish holdings. And then back to London, where I'll be tied up all next week."

  "With beautiful Lady Bret?" The words popped out, but if I couldn't talk to Noah like we always had, what was the point in being here?

  "Wow. Was that venom dripping in your voice?"

  I must have been even more jealous than I thought if he heard it. And it may have been my imagination, but beneath his amusement, he sounded pleased. And guilty of something.

  "Venom, a word of caution, womanly intuition—call it what you like. I've been hearing stories about her from all corners," I said, throwing caution aside. This was Noah I was talking to. We were partners and friends. "I've been hearing stories about a lot of things. People here say Lady Bret is shopping for a duke and an estate."

  "She's a little late, isn't she? I'm married and have already taken on fathering a dog. Why would I break up my happy family for a British gold digger?"

  "You mean femme fatale. Why indeed?" I said. "And you still haven't answered my question."

  He sighed. "Yes. Lady Bret is one of the people I have meetings scheduled with. She's been very helpful in bringing me up to speed. You're going to have to put up with her, Gray. She's absolutely necessary right now."

  I didn't hold back my scowl. Fortunately, Noah couldn't see it. If he felt it, oh well.

  "You know old Hardly was in love with her grandma when he was young, don't you?"

  "Really?"

  "Yes," I said. "So be careful. We aren't ordinary people. We have things other people want—castles, husbands with titles."

  He snorted with amusement.

  "There's a lot of history here, Noah. A lot of stories and ghosts that aren't necessarily hauntings. I'm not sure outsiders are really all that welcome."

  "And a lot of people who gossip, apparently," Noah said.

  "Yes," I said. "And they're gossiping about old Hardly. It's common knowledge he was unhappy about your dad being his heir to the title. Followed by your equally bad brother. Rumors are going around that he had your dad and brother murdered."

  "That's ridiculous," Noah said. "No one murdered them. They died in an accident. And that's that. Some people have trouble with the facts." Noah took a deep breath. Something was bothering him. "Now, tell me about Charlie. And how are you getting along with Olive? Have you met Gill or Watts or Dan Cross?"

  "Gill gave me Charlie." I told him the whole story, settling in on the sofa again and cuddling Charlie. Suddenly, it was like talking to the Noah I knew again. I relaxed.

  "I have someone I want
you to talk to," Noah said. "There's a regional cider-making expert that Bret hooked me up with. Ezra Hopkins. He and his grandson are the guys who are like cider whisperers. Genius craftsmen, apparently. I asked Olive to get them to come down and talk to you. You know your stuff, but they know the region. I think you'll enjoy meeting with them."

  My pulse quickened. "Sounds great." I paused. "Noah, why did the estate stop making cider? Dan told me World War I came along and took most of the men who worked the orchard and cider plant. There was no one to work it. But eventually there were enough young men again. The region proves it. It's a booming industry now. I have a feeling there's more to the story."

  "It's always been hard to keep young people down on the farm," Noah said in his hayseed imitation. He was teasing me. But he was right. I hadn't wanted to stay in apple country at first either.

  "But this region is famous for cider. Why didn't old Hardly start it up again at some point? Why did he mess around with wine instead? Cider is the obvious thing to try for turning a profit. And Hardly hardly seems like he was a fool."

  "No," Noah said. "He was very astute. He had to be to keep this place going. He's left us in good enough shape. Maybe it was a matter of time. He ramped up a lot of business in a short period of time and saved the estate from auction. Cider making might have been a low priority or simply not an interest of his."

  "Hmm." I wasn't sure I agreed with Noah. There was so much more I wanted to say to him and talk with him about. But it was as if the walls had ears. And I could feel Hardly's ghost watching us. I pulled up short.

  As the conversation began winding down, I realized I didn't want to break the connection. I needed Noah.

  Noah yawned. "Long day. I have to get up early tomorrow."

  "Noah," I said playfully, "don't stay away too long. Another scare like tonight and I'll literally lay an egg."

  "You wouldn't." He sounded almost hoarse. He knew what I meant—the yoni egg.

  "Oh, I would. Someday, some guy's going to get to see how well it's worked."