Duke Darcy's Castle

by Syrie James

  But you always knew where you were. Your bed didn’t rock and roll with the whims of the sea. The food was consistently good. There was something satisfying about living in a property that had been in the family for hundreds of years and would long outlive you. And the views from every vantage point were indisputably spectacular.

  As he trudged up the hill, he found himself imagining Kathryn standing beside him at the drawing room window as they took in that spectacular view. His mind drifted further, picturing her at the dinner table, talking and laughing over all the events of the day. He saw her in his bed, in his arms, as they made passionate love.

  Damn it all to hell. Stop thinking about it. It’s never going to happen.

  A wave of disappointment surged through Lance’s chest. He hadn’t just lost Kathryn. He was losing St. Gabriel’s Mount as well. It had been entrusted to his care. And he had failed. Failed his family. Failed to live up to what had been expected of him.

  It’s not your fault, he tried to tell himself. You inherited the place encumbered by so much debt it was impossible to save.

  But he knew that was only partially true. He could save it. All he had to do was marry Miss Imogen Russell. Or someone like her.

  All at once, it was difficult to breathe. It had nothing to do with the exertion of hiking up the steep road. He couldn’t breathe because the idea of marrying anyone other than Kathryn Atherton was like shoving his lungs and heart into a vise and squeezing it tight.

  If only there were some other solution to this conundrum he faced. . . . But there wasn’t.

  So. If all went well, he would soon be shaking Donald Russell’s hand and sealing the deal to sell St. Gabriel’s Mount.

  End of story.

  Kathryn played with the handle of her satchel, her stomach tied up in knots.

  She had dropped everything, packed a bag, and taken the 6 a.m. train out of Victoria Station, hoping against hope that she would arrive at St. Gabriel’s Mount before the American who was reportedly interested in buying it. A Mr. Russell, if Maddie had her facts straight.

  As the train rumbled along the track, every mile bringing her closer to Cornwall, Kathryn’s nervous anticipation grew.

  She had known Lance owed an enormous sum of money. But it had never occurred to her that it would come to this. That he would actually sell that beautiful castle and the island it stood on.

  The evening before, when those letters had arrived—when she’d held her future in her hands and it was everything she’d ever dreamed of—something about it hadn’t felt right. Not just because of the incredible coincidence of it all. It was something else she hadn’t been able to decipher.

  Now she knew what it was.

  Although she had finally jumped over all the major hurdles that had been an impediment to her career, the achievement didn’t have the same meaning it might once have held. Because now, she was in love with Lance Granville, the Duke of Darcy.

  Now, she knew she could never be truly, completely happy unless she could share her life and achievements with him.

  Maddie had been right. In her quest to become an architect, Kathryn had focused so hard on the prize that she had, literally, almost worked herself to death. In reward, her employer had dumped her after stealing her best work.

  She would never make that mistake again. Yes, she still loved what she did, but she wanted a full life. A balanced life. And Kathryn couldn’t imagine her life without Lance in it.

  There must be a way to compromise. To fulfill her professional dreams and become his wife, too.

  She wanted to spend all the rest of her days with Lance, living wherever he was living—whether it was in his castle or on the moon. She wanted Lance to talk to, to make love to, to share every moment with. She wanted to have his children, sons and daughters who would bring them both joy and carry on the line of Darcys.

  But as sure as Kathryn was of her love for him and what she wanted, she couldn’t be certain he still felt the same way.

  He had said he loved her. But even so, she worried that maybe, after losing out on Kathryn’s fortune, he’d decided that he preferred to sell the castle, after all, so he could go back to sea. He had often expressed how much he missed his life in the Royal Navy.

  Or—even if he did regret selling the castle—maybe he’d come to the realization that marrying Kathryn would have been a mistake. Just because he had advocated for her career, it didn’t mean he truly wished to have a wife who worked. It was still possible that what he’d said that night in bed really had just been words to convince her to marry him. And after being caught in the lie, he had used his ducal trump card on her behalf to ease his conscience.

  Either of those two scenarios stung. But the second one stung most painfully of all. Kathryn hoped and prayed that neither of them was true. Because marrying Lance, being loved by Lance, was what she wanted more than anything in the world.

  The moment the train arrived at the station at Rosquay, Kathryn leapt out and ran all the way to the quay. The small ferryboat was docked in its usual spot. To her dismay, no boatman was sitting in it or lingering nearby.

  Where, Kathryn wondered, would a bored sailor go on a hot summer afternoon? She spied the King’s Head pub down the street and, on a hunch, took off in that direction.

  Pushing open the door of the ancient building, Kathryn ventured inside. A half dozen crusty old men were seated at the bar, chatting over pints of beer. She didn’t recognize any of them. Even so, she walked up to them and, struggling to catch her breath, said, “Gentlemen, can you tell me where I might find the boatman to take me to St. Gabriel’s Mount?”

  “That’d be me,” one of the men replied, lifting his cap to reveal a shock of white hair.

  “My good sir, I require a ride to the island at once. Can you oblige me?”

  He nodded. “Soon as I finish my beer, milady.” He took a gulp, then returned to his conversation with the other men.

  Kathryn wanted to scream in frustration. “I am in a hurry, sir. I really must reach the island at once.”

  “Oh aye?” returned the man, eyeing her as he took another gulp. “And what business ye got there ’at can’t wait another two minutes? Do the castle be on fire?” He grinned at his mates, who all exchanged a loud guffaw.

  “It might as well be, if I don’t hurry,” Kathryn insisted anxiously.

  Her tone seemed to get his attention. He finished off the rest of his glass, wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood. “Well, then, we’d best get a move on, hadn’t we?”

  Ten minutes later, Kathryn was seated in the man’s small boat, heading toward the island beneath swooping seagulls and a hazy summer sky. Although the oarsman plowed hard against the current, it felt as though they were crawling across the sea at a snail’s pace, the castle exasperatingly out of reach in the distance.

  The scene felt familiar somehow. Kathryn suddenly recalled the nightmare she’d had a few days after arriving at St. Gabriel’s Mount. When she’d been in a boat, desperate to reach the Mount to prevent some terrible calamity from happening to the Duke of Darcy.

  She was living that nightmare in real life at this very moment.

  Kathryn’s heart pounded with frustration. The Darcy legacy was about to end up in the hands of some American businessman, just so his wife could vacation in a castle a few weeks out of the year. Kathryn couldn’t bear to see that happen. Not if her fortune could save it.

  But she had an even more important reason to reach the Duke of Darcy.

  She had to tell him that she loved him.

  Lance trod down the cliff path, then sank onto the wooden bench and stared out to sea.

  Sadness seemed to fill every pore of his body. The thought that no Darcy would ever again set foot inside St. Gabriel’s Mount, or ever walk down this much-loved path, was so painful he couldn’t even contemplate it.

  As bad as that was, though, it wasn’t close to the worst of it. Lance had lost something that, to him, was far more
precious than the castle or this island. The woman he loved had slipped through his fingers. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it now.

  Lance picked a blade of grass from the weedy patch at his feet and shred it between his fingertips, trying to picture the future that lay ahead of him. His life at sea. Aboard a steel ship, surrounded by men. Stopping at different ports of call. Giving orders. Or taking them. Leading drills. Polishing guns.

  He hadn’t found that life lonely or monotonous before. But he suspected that he would now. He suspected that every night for the rest of his life, he would go to bed with an aching hole in his heart. The same way his heart ached at this very moment.

  Every moment of every day he would think about her. Wondering where she was. What she was doing.

  He couldn’t help but wonder that now. Was she at home? Had Patterson offered her her job back, as he’d promised? Had she heard from London College? Had the RIBA contacted her? He hoped, by now, that she knew she had the certifications she’d earned. And that they’d bring her the success and joy she deserved.

  He hoped, too, that she’d never find out he was behind it. That had been one more thing he’d insisted upon. He didn’t want credit or thanks. He just wanted her to be happy.

  A sound caught his attention. A rustling. Was it grass in the wind? No, the grass at his feet was moving almost noiselessly. This sounded more like the rustling of . . . skirts in the wind.

  Turning, Lance saw Kathryn making her way down the cliff path in his direction. He froze in utter shock. What was she doing here?

  She was wearing an elegantly tailored burgundy suit—the same one, he recalled, that she’d worn the first time they’d met. Her golden hair was drawn up beneath a felt hat that looked more masculine than feminine.

  But there was nothing masculine about this woman. She was the most feminine creature he had ever seen.

  Lance stood and started up the path toward her, his pulse racing. Unsure what to expect.

  “Lance,” she said, stopping a few feet away from him. Her aquamarine eyes were filled with apprehension.

  “Kathryn.” He breathed her name like a prayer. He wanted to ask what had brought her here. To pour out his heart. Tell her how he felt about her. But his mouth had gone dry and he couldn’t find the words.

  “Please tell me you haven’t signed anything yet.”

  “Signed anything?”

  “I heard that you’re planning to sell St. Gabriel’s Mount.”

  “Oh. Yes, I am. I’m expecting a visit from a prospective buyer tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” She sighed in relief. “Don’t sell it, Lance. Please.”

  He didn’t dare to let himself hope what that might mean. “I don’t have much choice, I’m afraid.”

  “Yes, you do. Marry me, and you can save it.”

  Lance’s heart skittered. Had his ears deceived him? Had she truly just asked him to marry her?

  “You’ve asked me twice,” she went on. “Now I’m asking you. That is, if you still want me?”

  “Of course I want you!” Lance burst out. He took two giant strides and swept her into his arms, both incredulous and ashamed. “But . . . Kathryn, I don’t deserve this. After what I did—I should have told you—”

  “I understand why you didn’t. Your grandmother told me about Beatrice.”

  He took that in. “Still, I should have come clean about my debts long ago.”

  “They’re not your debts, Lance. They’re your family’s debts. Now they’re our debts.”

  Our debts. Lance’s heart turned over at her words. She said them so naturally, as if taking on this burden were something that had already become a part of her. The weight that had been crushing Lance for so many long weeks seemed to magically lift from his shoulders. “Do you truly mean it?”

  “I do. We’ll see this through together. You can have my fortune, all of it. Pay off the loans, renovate the castle, take care of the village, whatever you wish. The money is yours. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

  “Then . . . yes. Yes. Thank you, my love! Yes!” He kissed her deeply, a silent declaration of all that he was feeling. Her arms wrapped around him and drew him even closer as their kiss became more impassioned. At length, she pulled away slightly, catching her breath as she gazed up at him.

  “I think that’s the first time you’ve called me my love. I like the sound of it.”

  “I shall remember to say it as often as possible in future. I love you, Kathryn. I love you with all my heart.”

  “And I love you.”

  Her words spread joy through his every vein, warming him to the core. “I believe,” he said softly, after kissing her again, “I have loved you since the moment you first appeared at my castle door, so eager to be my architect.”

  “Ah yes. About that.” She took a breath. “I wanted to thank you for what you did in London. I know that I have my degree and license now—and my job back, if I want it—because of you.”

  “Who told you?” Lance frowned. “That was supposed to be kept in confidence.”

  “There shouldn’t be any more secrets between us, Lance.”

  He paused, then nodded. “You’re right. I just didn’t want you to feel any obligation to me.”

  “I know.” She hesitated. “I also know that, despite having my credentials . . . as your duchess, society will expect me to behave a certain way. I hope . . . you’ll keep an open mind about that?”

  He stared down at her. “I told you before, I am fully on board. I wouldn’t dream of you giving up your career.”

  “I wasn’t sure you really meant it. I heard what you said to Mr. Megowan.”

  “What did I say?”

  “You said, ‘She might still be able to take on a job here or there. At least I told her as much. I’m sure I can persuade someone to let her draw something once in a while.’”

  Lance winced. “Forgive me for my poor choice of words. But I meant no disrespect by that remark, Kathryn. You are so talented, but you have a difficult road ahead of you. I can help open doors. And this only works, I believe, if there is compromise on both our parts.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Compromise.”

  “I understand that you may have to put in long hours from time to time. But not all the time. If you marry me, you won’t be able to work at the same pace you are accustomed to.”

  Kathryn nodded. “I understand that now, too. I’ve learned something since I came to St. Gabriel’s Mount.”

  “That you chirp when you get excited?”

  She blushed. “Not just that. I’ve learned that life shouldn’t be all about work. We have to make time to play as well. And to be with the ones we love. You and our children will always be my top priority. I promise.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that.” He caressed her face with his palm. “At the same time, I will be proud to be married to the first female architect in Britain. Who also happens to be a duchess. You can create a new tradition, Kathryn. Instead of raising money for new hospitals and schools, you can design new hospitals and schools.”

  “That would be a dream come true. You really won’t mind?”

  “Your dreams are my dreams, my darling.”

  Kathryn met his gaze, beaming. “Speaking of which—I was thinking. After we pay off the loans, if we invest the rest of my fortune and live off the interest, I won’t need income from my work. So if I do manage to earn a pound or two, I could do the duchess-y thing and donate the money to charitable projects. It might be the first time such a thing has been done, but—”

  Lance—thrilled by the notion—kissed her again. “There is a first time for everything, my darling. You and I will write the new rules.”

  Epilogue

  Two Months Later

  Their wedding day was resplendent with a crisp autumn breeze and a fresh wind off the coast.

  Kathryn’s mother and father sailed over from New York for the occasion. Maddie and Lexie were matrons of honor, of course. Henry Megow
an served as a groomsman, along with Lance’s first lieutenant from the Defiant, who managed to secure leave from the Navy.

  The ceremony was held in the chapel at St. Gabriel’s Mount. Kathryn wore the white lace gown and veil that Maddie had worn at her wedding in Cornwall, a fabulous creation by Worth which only required slight alterations to fit and meet the changes in fashion over the intervening years.

  Lance wore his Royal Navy dress uniform, a sword belted at his side, and atop his head a traditional cocked hat from the days of the age of sail. Kathryn thought her heart might burst with pride at the sight of him as she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm.

  “You look every bit as dashing in that uniform as I always imagined you would,” Kathryn whispered in his ear, after the clergyman pronounced them man and wife and they had kissed to seal their vows.

  “And you look more beautiful in that gown than I could have ever imagined,” Lance murmured in return, his eyes blazing admiringly.

  As they left the chapel hand in hand and emerged onto the sunlit terrace, Kathryn asked Lance, “I hope you’ve made peace, my dearest, with the idea of being retired from your life at sea?”

  “I have,” Lance replied, drawing her into his arms for another kiss. “I have no desire to go back. Only forward to the life we will build together.”

  Kathryn smiled into his dark blue eyes, never ceasing to be astonished by and grateful for the affection she saw written there.

  The celebratory breakfast was held in the great hall. Kathryn still hoped to someday redo the hall’s ceiling, but in the meantime, she had supervised a master cleanup and had the walls coated with fresh white paint until they gleamed. Garlands of flowers hung from the rafters and adorned the tables, imbuing the room with their sweet scent. Musicians played lively music as everyone dined and chatted and danced and laughed.