The Ice Queen

by Sasha Cottman

  They were met partway back to the castle by an angry Harry. Francis and James were nowhere to be seen.

  “Where in the devil have the two of you been? You didn’t come to breakfast. Frightfully indecent of you, Newhall, to spirit Caroline away from her chaperones without their notice,” he said.

  Julian ignored the underlying accusation in Harry’s words. “We took the birds down to the kitchens and then decided to go for a short stroll before coming in to join the rest of you for breakfast. I was merely showing Caroline around the grounds; there is nothing indecent in taking a walk.”

  Harry huffed in disgust, then turned his attention to Caroline. “You know you should not go anywhere without one of us accompanying you. What would your mother say?”

  “My mother would say, ‘One should avoid pompous asses by whatever means necessary.’ Harry, you are not my chaperone, and I do not answer to you,” she snapped.

  It took a great deal of self-control for Julian not to applaud Caroline’s entirely suitable response to being chastised like a child. She stepped past Harry and headed toward the front door. Julian gave Harry a curt nod as he followed Caroline.

  “Stay away from her,” said Harry in a low, angry tone.

  Julian didn’t immediately respond to the threat, and was still considering his options when Francis and James appeared.

  “Ah, there you are. We were looking everywhere for you,” said Francis.

  Julian chuckled and gave Harry a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Yes, I was just telling Menzies here that Midas needed a few more minutes outside before we came in for breakfast. All the excitement of the hunt had him stirred up. No harm done. I hope you left us some bacon.”

  The look on Harry’s face was a study in perfect frustration. Julian gave him a second pat just to confirm their unspoken understanding. He silently dared Harry to make mention of the fact that Midas was nowhere in sight. Neither man would want an escalation in hostilities to take place in front of Caroline.

  “It’s always hard to keep Caroline inside during the winter. She is the first to offer a ramble through the woods on Strathmore mountain. Give her a pair of solid boots and my sister will wander the hills for days,” said Francis. If he had noticed any tension between Julian and Harry, he was keeping it to himself.

  Harry, in turn, mumbled something about it not being ladylike, but only Julian seemed to catch the disapproving comment.

  After following his guests back inside, Julian excused himself. If Menzies thought his words would keep the earl from spending more time with Caroline, he was gravely mistaken.

  Julian found the butler and instructed him to go through the cupboards and locate some ice skates. Only two pairs would be needed. One for him, and one for Caroline.

  Later that afternoon, Francis, Harry, and James headed into the local village to have a drink at the tavern. With Caroline and Lady Margaret settling in for a ladies-only embroidery afternoon, Julian found himself with welcome time alone.

  Outmaneuvering Harry Menzies had taken much of the humor out of him over the past day. Added to that was the undisputable fact that not only were he and Caroline Saunders no longer enemies, but he was falling for her.

  He had been so close to her when they were at the ice pond that the heady scent of her perfume still lingered in his mind. His interest in her had turned to simmering desire.

  Leaving the castle, he sought refuge at the small stone cottage which sat at the edge of the frozen lake. A grove of trees had been planted at the back of the cottage and over the years they had grown and now created a green frame around three of its sides. The cottage was hidden from view from the main part of the castle grounds, and Julian liked it that way.

  It was a place of solitude and comfort. His father had come here often in the final years of his ill-fated marriage. It had been somewhere for him to hide away from the blistering rows he and Julian’s mother regularly conducted.

  With his father now gone, Julian had kept the standing order for a fire to be kept burning in the fireplace of the old cottage whenever he was in residence. It was a place to retreat and think on his life and the choices which now stood before him.

  The welcoming crackle of logs burning on the fire greeted him as he stepped inside the small stone cottage. He closed the door behind him and immediately felt the comforting warmth.

  He peeled off his gloves and threw his hat onto the nearby bed. Without thinking, he picked up a brandy bottle from the table, and poured himself a generous glass.

  “What a week it’s been,” he muttered.

  He made a beeline for his favorite chair by the fire and slumped down into it, swearing as he splashed brandy on his waistcoat. With one smooth motion, he downed his drink. He looked over to the table where the brandy bottle sat, but decided it was not a wise move to indulge in a second glass.

  He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

  Large bright circles danced before his closed eyes. From a young age, he had been plagued by stress headaches, usually brought on by one of his parents’ legendary rows.

  Today’s headache had a different name. Harry Menzies. He slowly clenched and unclenched his fists, wishing he could squeeze Francis’s interfering friend by the throat. He had gotten under Julian’s skin like a weeping rash.

  He hated him. Not just because Harry thought himself Caroline’s self-appointed protector. It came down to pure inelegant jealousy. He knew the look that Harry wore whenever he was close to Caroline; it was the very same one he knew sat on his own countenance when in her presence.

  He considered the ludicrous situation he found himself dealing with. Instead of a castle full of young ladies all vying for his attention, he was now locked in a battle for the affections of the only woman he had not invited to his house party.

  He picked up his hat and gloves, and after downing another half glass of brandy, he headed for the door. Closing it behind him, he stepped back out into the freezing air.

  Shoving his hat down hard on his head, he began to march purposefully back toward the castle. He was at one with the previous fighting lords of Newhall. But instead of taking to the bloody field of battle to win against a skillful opponent, this lord of Newhall was set to go into battle against a foe he knew he could beat. When the war was over, he would be the one who had won Caroline’s heart.

  Chapter Thirty

  After supper, the group gathered in one of the main drawing rooms upstairs. Caroline and Lady Margaret retreated to a spot near the fire and quietly played cards.

  Julian was content to nurse a glass of shiraz, while James, Harry, and Francis gave the castle brandy stocks a good nudge.

  When James and Francis began to regale the group with tales of their younger years at Strathmore Castle, Julian sat and listened. Harry, meanwhile, slumped in a chair and scowled.

  “We climbed to the top of the castle keep and hid there for hours. Good old Caro, here, hitched up her skirts and scaled one of the outer walls to smuggle us some food. Uncle Ewan and my father were furious when they finally found us,” said Francis.

  Caroline laughed. She had only climbed a small wall with her skirts barely lifted, but the story, over the years, had gotten legs and become family legend.

  “It was a long time before they finally discovered I was the inside agent. Papa was still angry, but since I was nearly an adult, he decided it was all too late to punish me for my youthful transgressions,” she replied.

  Harry downed the rest of his brandy and thumped his glass down on the table. Everyone turned and looked at him. “If you were my daughter, I would still have meted out a suitable punishment. Damn foolish to have risked your neck,” he snapped.

  He rose from his chair and stood, shaking his head. When a stunned Francis tried to calm him, he pushed him away. “I can see I am in poor company. I am going to bed. Good night.” With a perfunctory bow to the women, Harry turned and marched out the door. It closed loudly behind him.

  “I am terribly sorry, Newhal
l. I do not know what has got into him; he is not the Harry I have known since school. I shall have a word with him in the morning. I think, perhaps, it is time I gave him a firmer nudge about going back to London,” said Francis.

  Relief dropped lightly into Caroline’s mind. She too longed to see the back of Harry.

  Francis and James settled into their chairs and made an agreement to kick on and continue drinking. Julian rang the bell and when a footman appeared, he ordered another bottle of brandy be brought up for his guests.

  Across the room, Julian met Caroline’s gaze. When she smiled at him, he raised his glass and silently toasted her.

  The following morning saw only Caroline, Julian, and Lady Margaret in the breakfast room. The castle butler informed them that Mister Radley and Mister Saunders had indeed made good on their promise and seen it through to dawn. They had only taken to their beds a little more than an hour prior to the rest of the household rising.

  “Well that will make for a quiet day around here,” noted Lady Margaret.

  Caroline picked up her coffee and took a sip. Now, if only Harry would sleep through the morning, she would be able to enjoy some free time.

  “We managed to find the ice skates late yesterday. So, when you feel ready to take to the ice, I shall have them brought to you,” said Julian.

  Caroline touched the bandage of her injured hand. While she was an excellent ice-skater, she was still hesitant to put herself at risk. If she fell on the ice, the stitches would likely burst.

  “Thank you. But I may wait a few days more and then see how my hand feels. I do hope to be able to set foot on the pond before I leave,” she replied.

  Lady Margaret looked up from her plate of baked salmon and mashed potatoes. “Are you going to skate on the ice pond? Julian’s father always wanted me to try it, but I must confess to being terrible on the ice. The last time I tried to skate was on the Newhall village pond. I crashed into the local vicar and he was most put out,” she said with a wry smile.

  At the end of the table, Julian’s body shook with suppressed mirth. He looked up at Lady Margaret with tears in his eyes. “Of course, the fact that you also knocked down his wife, his sister, and a distant cousin had nothing to do with him being so terribly upset.”

  Lady Margaret raised an eyebrow, as the sound of Julian’s laugh rang through the room. Caught up in the moment, Caroline found herself laughing along.

  “Well yes, there was that, now that you mention it,” replied Lady Margaret.

  Caroline liked Lady Margaret immensely, and it was clear she and Julian were close. There was a warmth between them that was non-existent between him and the countess.

  “I promise, if you do decide to venture out onto the ice pond, I shall keep Lady Margaret at a safe distance. In the meantime, since the rest of our small house party are not looking like they will be making breakfast anytime soon, could I tempt you with a post-breakfast walk around the grounds?” he said.

  There had been a light rainfall overnight, and Caroline was eager to get out and walk. The sound of frozen grass crunching under her boots was another of her favorite winter delights.

  “I shall get my things,” she said.

  What she really meant was if she got her cape and scarf, she and Julian could be away from the castle before anyone else found their way to the breakfast room. She rose from her chair and quickly headed upstairs.

  She met Julian outside a short time later. Taking her by the arm, he led her swiftly away from the castle via a small copse of trees.

  Once out of sight of the front door, he stopped. “Sorry about the rude hurry, but I wanted us to get away. While you were upstairs, a footman came down and mentioned that Menzies was up and about. I wasn’t particularly keen on inviting him to join us. Lady Margaret has kindly offered to keep him company for breakfast.”

  Caroline made a mental note to keep scarce about the castle for the rest of the morning. Harry was the last person she wished to spend time with, especially after his boorish behavior of the previous evening.

  “Lady Margaret is a treasure. She certainly has a soft spot for you,” she said.

  “She is one of the most important people in my life. After my mother abandoned us, Lady Margaret was the one who took up the reins of running the castle. I was more than happy when she and my father fell in love. She gifted him with a calm mind and a sense of joy,” he said.

  As he spoke about his late father’s mistress, Caroline could see the look of happiness on Julian’s face. He genuinely cared for her.

  The wind had picked up from the previous day and it now bit through her cloak. She shivered. Winter was fast approaching and she feared it would be as harsh as the previous year.

  “You look cold. Perhaps we should seek out somewhere warm. I have just the place,” he said.

  “That would be nice, thank you.”

  He led her toward the lake, and as they drew near, Caroline caught sight of a small stone cottage nestled within the trees close to the lake. From the top of the grounds, the cottage had been well hidden from view.

  Julian opened the door, and stood back to allow Caroline to go first. As she stepped across the threshold, she was greeted with the welcome warmth of a well-tended fire. The room held a few items of furniture. A pair of chairs sat either side of the small but effective fireplace. There was a table, which had four mismatched chairs, and a bed in the corner. To the right of the fireplace hung a single frame, its painting turned to face the wall.

  “This was my father’s retreat for many years, especially when I was young and he and my mother were at war. He used to sleep down here, hence the bed. I like the privacy it affords me, so I have the staff keep the fire going and the liquor supply maintained,” he said.

  “It is a lovely spot. I can see why you would want to come here,” she replied.

  He poured them both a glass of brandy and handed one to Caroline. “A little early in the morning, but it does take the chill off. Please, sit,” he said.

  After taking a seat by the fire, her gaze returned to the painting on the wall. Why would anyone hang a painting and then have it turned so it could not be seen?

  Julian crossed to the painting and took it down. He handed it to Caroline before taking the seat opposite her. “I cannot abide the sight of it, but have not yet mustered the courage to throw it on the fire.”

  The painting was a likeness of Julian’s mother. She was reclining on a long daybed, clad in a black shoulder less gown. Around her neck was a magnificent necklace. The length of it was studded with rubies and diamonds. The largest ruby had been fashioned into the center of a diamond-encrusted crucifix and hung as a pendant.

  “That is a stunning necklace,” said Caroline.

  “It is the Crusader Ruby. The most important heirloom of the Newhall estate—a priceless jewel handed down through the generations,” replied Julian.

  There were many magnificent pieces of jewelry in the Duke of Strathmore’s collection, but Caroline could not see any of them holding a candle to the Crusader Ruby. “Why is it called the Crusader Ruby?”

  “One of my forebears brought the main ruby back from the holy land during the crusades. He had it fashioned into the necklace, intending to give it to the King of France, but his wife took a fancy to it and so he kept it,” he replied.

  “I had no idea that the Newhall line went back that far,” she said.

  “Yes, its one of the oldest titles in England.”

  He stood and took the painting from her, placing it back face-forward to the wall.

  “I would love to see the real Crusader Ruby sometime,” said Caroline.

  Julian huffed. “So, would I. The countess took it with her when she left my father. He used to come down here and stare at the painting for hours. I am not sure what he craved most: her or the necklace. After he died, I turned it so it faced the wall. I don’t want to look at her arrogant smile even if it is just a likeness.”

  Caroline now understood the bitterness
in Julian’s voice. Not only had his mother abandoned him, but she had taken an ancient relic with her that rightly belonged to him.

  She sipped at her brandy, then set the glass down on the floor. Julian had only spoken in snatches about his mother. And, having had the misfortune to meet the countess, Caroline could fill in many of the gaps of his childhood. His father, however, was still a mystery.

  “Tell me about your father. Were you close?” she asked.

  He paused for a moment. She sensed he was choosing his words carefully before he spoke. “It was an odd relationship. When I was young, I blamed him for my mother hating me. She always said it was his fault that our home was such an unhappy place. And I believed her. If I had not been born, my mother would not have hated me. I dare you to find sense with that piece of childish logic. It was only after she finally left my father that he and I discovered we actually liked one another.”

  There was an underlying pain in his words. She had been raised by two loving parents, who had a strong marriage, never once having to question the bonds of paternal affection.

  “So, you had your father’s love?”

  He screwed up his face “I was nine years’ old when my mother left, and I barely knew my father. It took a long time for us to build the trust that should have been there all along. It was only after Lady Margaret came to Newhall Castle that he began to show me his love. I have her to thank for helping to mend his broken heart.”

  Caroline blinked back tears as she pictured a young Julian in her mind. A lonely boy waiting for one of his parents to show him that they cared.

  “It was not his fault. He came from a long line of stoic men. Emotions such as love do not run deep in my family.”

  “But your father loved your mother; it’s just that she didn’t return his affections. And you most certainly are not an uncaring man,” replied Caroline.

  Their gazes met. Caroline silently prayed for Julian to open his heart, just a little, to her. She was disappointed when he simply replied, “Thank you. That is a kind thing to say.”