The Guardian Duke: A Forgotten Castles Novel

by Carie, Jamie

  "Yes, but I must say after seeing Killyleagh, my home is not so modern nor so comfortable. It still reminds me of the medieval castles of the past." She didn't mention that her parents didn't seem at all bothered by that fact and were rarely home to endure the discomforts of it. Brushing that thought aside, she hurried on. "My parents are something like treasure hunters; they are famous for it, actually."

  "Treasure hunters! Upon my word, that is exciting. What have they found?"

  "Oh, all sorts of missing or stolen items—family jewelry, valuable coins, journals full of secrets. Once they were hired to find the tomb of a mummy in the pyramids of Egypt!"

  Helga pressed her hand against her ample bosom. "Good heavens, did they find it?"

  "Yes." Alex grinned and took another bite. "They never failed in finding what they were looking for."

  Helga took a deep breath with a slow shake of her head. "I've never heard of such a thing."

  Alex looked down at the delicious stew. "They never failed until now, that is. This is why I'm in Ireland. My parents disappeared some months ago and the prince regent thinks they're dead. I don't believe it, of course. They're too smart for that." She looked up at Helga, stared into her kind brown eyes. "Something has happened to them and they need my help. I have to find them."

  "Well, of course you do."

  Alex breathed a sigh of relief at her reaction.

  "Did they come to Ireland, then? Is that why you're here looking for them?"

  "Yes. They came to Killyleagh several months ago. They visited the castle and possibly some other places. They might have even stayed here."

  "You don't say?" Helga leaned back and pressed her hand against her plump cheek. "About a year ago? I think I might know of them. A very elegant couple from England? They didn't say much, kept quietly to themselves, and she often wore a veil, but I saw her once . . .

  "And?" Alex prodded.

  "She was lovely, with eyes much like yours. We don't get many guests from England. Wait. I'll run and fetch the guest book. They would have signed in, don't you know." She hurried from the room before Alex could respond.

  When she came back, she sank onto the bench and opened the book. Back and back she went through the pages. Suddenly her finger stopped. "There it is, just as I thought. Ian Featherstone." She turned the book around and pushed it in front of Alex.

  Her heart sped up as she leaned over the lines of names. She saw it instantly, her father's elegant scrawl. Tears leapt to her eyes. It was him. They'd stayed here. She looked up at the top of the page and saw the date: 7 November 1817. Just a few weeks less than a year ago.

  "Did they say where they were going next? Can you remember anything about them?"

  Helga leaned back on the bench with a frown of concentration on her wide brow. "Give me a moment, dear. Finish your stew now, you look white as a ghost."

  Alex obeyed, shoveling in the delicious lamb, potatoes, and carrots and washing it down with a cup of tea while she waited.

  When she finished she pushed aside the bowl. "Wonderful stew, Helga. Thank you."

  Helga nodded at her. "Best stew in the world, it is. I'll write out my secret recipe for you. Now then, I do remember a thing or two about them. Firstly, they did visit the castle a time or two and seemed pleased by something that happened on those visits. I recollect that they asked my son, who works here, where they could find the house where Hans Sloane was raised. The family has all gone to England now, but they visited someone there."

  Alex was pleased beyond measure that her hunch to go to Sloane's childhood home was so perfectly matched to what her parents had done. "Anything else?"

  "Just one more thing." Helga's brow wrinkled. "I don't know what it means, but I heard your father tease your mother about getting her some warmer clothing. Something about traveling somewhere cold, I think he meant."

  "A cold place? No idea as to where?"

  Helga shook her head. "Sorry, dear. You might ask the coachman where they went when they left here. They were traveling by rented coach."

  "An excellent idea. Thank you so much, Helga. You have helped a great deal."

  "I have? Well, isn't that something! Me helping on an investigation." She paused and leaned in. "It's dangerous though, isn't it? Is that why you have those two fierce men traveling with you?"

  Alex nodded. "God has blessed me greatly to find champions for my cause in my travels."

  "Yes, indeed. That Montague! Oh, bless me, he's a fine man."

  "He said to give you his regards," Alex teased with a grin.

  "He didn't!"

  "Oh yes, he did. I think he's quite taken with you. His wife died not too long ago and he has been rather lost since."

  "The dear man . . . he's in need of comfort then? I remember that, when my poor Cormac passed. I'll have to bake him a pie and see that he gets it before this night is out."

  "What an excellent idea." Alex stood to go. "Oh, can I ask you one more question?"

  "Of course, dear."

  "I have a feeling that the two Spanish men who were here yesterday are looking for this object that my parents were hired to find too. They've been following me and one of them grabbed me in Belfast and demanded to know what I was doing in Ireland. He was quite frightening. Do you know anything about them?"

  Helga slowly shook her head back and forth. "They settled their account and left right after you arrived. I haven't seen them since."

  "They saw us then. Just as I thought. Well, if you see them, could you please alert me? I'm keeping my eye out for them in case they mean us harm."

  "Oh yes, dear. I'll be keeping my eye out too." She came around the table and enveloped Alex in a big, motherly hug. One of her hands patted Alex's back. "You're a right brave thing, Lady Featherstone. I pray God's grace upon you."

  Alex swallowed back the sudden lump in her throat. Had her mother ever hugged her like this?

  "Thank you, Helga. I think God's grace is on me and covering me and going ahead of me as I take each step. I can feel it in the people, like you, that He has sent to help me."

  Before she could break into a cry, Alex gave her a tight squeeze and then turned and hurried from the room.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When they got back to their Belfast inn, Gabriel was told that he had a visitor who had been waiting in the private drawing room for some time. It was Lady Claire Montgomery, a woman he'd met some time ago during a London season of balls and soirees. An image of her stunning face, blue eyes, creamy skin, and that little pointed chin that lent an elfish air to her came to mind. She'd had lush blonde hair that was elaborately dressed in a sleek, upswept style and cultured speech that told of a good education. She'd made her splash and then married a baron, Lord Montgomery, who had whisked her off to Ireland some years ago. Gabriel hadn't heard anything about her since. How had she possibly found out that he was here?

  Turning to Meade, he sighed. "You'll have to accompany me, Meade, and bring out the speaking book. There is nothing else for it."

  As they entered the room, a delicate woman turned from the window. She was even more beautiful than he remembered—dressed in black, at the height of fashion, and dripping with jewels. What little she had aged had only given her face more loveliness. Gabriel sucked in his breath, a mixture of chagrin and admiration churning in his stomach. The fact that he'd been recently shot and had one arm in a sling wasn't going to help matters. She would feel sorry for him. It would be ghastly.

  "Lady Montgomery! How lovely to see you." Had he yelled it? Calm down, man. He walked over and took her hand, then planted a light kiss against the silky skin. She blushed, a delicate pink that colored her cheeks, and stared up into his eyes with a vulnerability he hadn't seen in a woman in a very long time. Pink lips gushed out words that he couldn't read and he couldn't stare at for too long. H
e took a step away and looked to Meade for help. He didn't know if he could bear to tell her outright, I'm deaf. He hadn't said those words to anyone.

  He swept his hand toward the settee and seated himself across from her. "I'm afraid I must ask my secretary to write down what you say in a speaking book, as I'm having difficulty with my hearing."

  Her eyes widened and her mouth opened but she quickly recovered. She looked down at her lap as if she didn't know what to do next and then over at Meade.

  "Just say what you normally would say and Meade will write it down." Gabriel gave her a self-deprecating smile. "It takes a bit longer, and I may seem to be staring at your lips outside of all that is respectable, but we'll muddle through."

  She spoke much slower then, looking often at Meade for signals that he was keeping up.

  Gabriel read the page.

  It is so good to see you, Your Grace. I am sorry that you are suffering with this affliction. You look well, but what has happened to your arm? I hope that you are not in pain.

  "It's a long story. I was robbed and shot, if you can believe it, but I am mending nicely." He smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "Tell me, I've only been in Belfast a few days. How did you hear I was in Ireland?"

  Meade took the book back and wrote as she spoke.

  "Oh, Your Grace, I have just gone through a great trial myself. I have been in Belfast these last days dealing with my husband's estate. You see, he died a few days ago and after the burial at Ballymena, where our home is, I had to come here to see his solicitor. It's been dreadful. I can't make heads or tails of all his many business dealings. There are decisions that must be made, and I was at a loss and didn't know who to trust or advise me . . . then I overheard a guest at my solicitor's office say your name. And when I asked, they said they had heard that the Duke of St. Easton was staying at the Ostrich Inn."

  She paused and took a deep breath. "It was like an answer to my prayers. If anyone could guide me during this difficult time, I knew you could. Pray lend me some of your time and assistance, Your Grace. I've taken a room here so it might be more convenient."

  Gabriel's pulse hummed through his veins. He couldn't possibly say no, and yet he had planned to leave this very afternoon for Killyleagh. It would be a risky delay. What if Alexandria left town and he couldn't find out where she'd gone?

  The lady was waiting patiently for his answer. He looked up and nodded. "I am sorry for your loss, Lady Montgomery. I will, of course, lend you what aid I can. My own business here in Ireland is of a timely nature but perhaps I can arrange different plans."

  "Oh, I would be so grateful." She clasped her hands together in her lap as tears shimmered in her blue eyes. "I can have Mr. Donovan, the solicitor, bring all of the documents here. What time would be good for you?"

  "Give me an hour to take care of some business and then we'll meet back here, if your solicitor is available then."

  "I will make sure that he is, Your Grace." She rose and Gabriel stood too. On clouds of grace it seemed she floated toward him, reaching out and taking his hands. She looked into his eyes, at his lips, and then back into his eyes and very clearly said the words thank you.

  As she left, Gabriel had to remind himself to breathe again.

  "Meade, I have an idea to buy us a little more time here. I will write a letter to Alexandria demanding that she stay in Killyleagh until we can get to her. You hire a man, find a good one and pay him well, to see that the letter finds her and that he gets her response. The town is small and we know she's been to the castle. The people there should know where she is staying and help our man find her."

  "But, Your Grace, what if she doesn't want to be found? We may be tipping our hand that we are so close with a demanding letter, don't you think?"

  "It is a possibility." Gabriel rubbed the stubble on his chin. "But as I control her purse strings and I know she must have run through most of what I've given her so far, I think the promise of enough money to track down her parents will keep her in one spot."

  "Ah yes, that may work. But do you really plan to give her permission for such a dangerous trip?"

  "Once I have her back in London and have hired the best investigators to track these clues she thinks she has, I am hoping she will be satisfied and remain under my protection as the prince regent has ordered. A visit to the prince regent might be enough to convince her of obedience."

  Meade pressed his lips together and said nothing. It boded ill, but Gabriel ignored the look, went to the desk, and took out paper and quill. He thought for a long moment and then hurried out his instruction to his recalcitrant ward.

  My dearest Alexandria,

  I have just come from your home at Holy Island. You can imagine my surprise when upon entering your (yes, crumbling) castle, you were nowhere to be found. I'm sure you will be happy to know that it took a great deal of persuasion to convince your stalwart servants to give up what they knew about your location. Only my assurance of my mission to keep you in all that is health and my genuine concern for your welfare made them change their minds. I have since been on something of a wild-goose chase and finally discovered you'd actually gone to Ireland. I am here now, in Belfast, and know from the postmaster (another difficult conquest of information) that your next clue led you to Killyleagh. The fact that you are reading this letter tells me that I've found you, which is to both our good fortunes as the prince regent has ordered me to bring you back to London.

  However, there has been a delay in my coming to you, and I will need to remain in Belfast for a few days. I order you to stay where you are until I can come to you. Now, my sweet ward, I understand that this news might not be happy for you, but I assure you that if you obey, I will give you a large sum of money to hire trained investigators to find your parents. We have reason to believe you are in danger and I pray you are being cautious. Do you happen to have Admiral Montague with you? I must say, I am astounded by the possibility but it gives me some measure of comfort that you had the sense to hire someone as protector and didn't attempt to do something so rash as to travel alone. I daresay I only sleep at night with the image of him standing guard outside your door, however you managed it.

  I await your reply and look forward to finally putting a face to all your cherished letters.

  Yours,

  St. Easton

  Gabriel sanded the letter and gave it to Meade, hoping he could locate a good messenger within the hour. He wasn't looking forward to the tedious task of going through Lord Montgomery's accounts, but the presence of a lovely widow would be some compensation. Now, to tidy his appearance and order refreshments to be served in the private drawing room when they arrived.

  There was a lightness to his step that surprised him. Lady Montgomery had been sympathetic more than pitying. Perhaps he was making more of his "affliction" as she put it than he needed to. People of all classes and origins since time began had suffered far greater distress than his deafness. Perhaps he should be thankful for what he did have, which was quite a lot. It had been something of a relief to tell someone, anyway. Keeping it a secret was draining and depressing. Maybe his world wouldn't fall apart after all, should he let it be known that the Duke of St. Easton was human too.

  AN HOUR LATER A MAID scratched at his door and informed him that his visitors had arrived. Feeling refreshed, Gabriel strode down the long hall of rooms to the private, second-story drawing room for the inn's more important guests. Lady Montgomery was there, seated next to a surprisingly young and handsome man dressed in the height of gentlemanly fashion.

  The man leapt forward when he entered and bowed almost until his nose touched his knees. After Gabriel greeted Lady Montgomery, she asked with slow, overstated facial expressions of someone trying to be easily read where Mr. Meade was and would he be attending them.

  "Meade is upon an errand, at present." Gabriel motioned for the maid in the r
oom to pour the tea and serve the crumpets, cheese, sweetmeats, and delicate little cakes. "Please, have some refreshments." He drew out the speaking book and turned to a new page, some of the comfortableness from his last conversation leaving him in having to do this in front of the young man. God certainly knew how to take the pride out of a man, he reflected morosely.

  Looking up, he pushed the feeling aside and directed his question to Mr. Donovan, the solicitor. He could well understand why Claire had not been restful about trusting him; he was entirely too pleasing. "Well, Mr. Donovan. What is the condition of the estate?"

  Donovan took the book and scribbled down several pages. Gabriel scanned it, leaning to one side of his chair in a position of ease and confidence, one elbow propped on the arm, his thumb under his chin, occasionally stroking it in concentration. It was as he thought and he doubted this was even the worst of it. Montgomery had been on the brink of bankruptcy. The final collapse had occurred just days before he died. Poor Claire. The creditors would soon be pounding down her door and there was little to sell.

  "Claire," he said her given name in a tone filled with kindness. "You never said. How did Carrick die?"

  She blanched as white as the plasterwork on the walls. Gabriel slowly handed her the speaking book. They waited, Donovan sipping his tea and averting his eyes, Gabriel watching with sincere sorrow as tears dripped down Claire's lovely face and splattered onto the not-yet-dry ink as she labored over her lines.

  He'd noticed something about the speaking book. People generally spoke with little thought, just spewing out whatever was in their heads at the time, but when they had to write it down, they paused, some of them at least, and they spoke more from the heart than the head. He'd gotten to know his best friend, Albert, better in the last few months because of the speaking book. It was harder to be glib on paper. And it had made them closer, something he hadn't bothered to be thankful for.

  Claire handed the book back, took his offered handkerchief, and dabbed at swimmingly beautiful blue eyes ringed in dark, wet lashes. What a dear thing she was.