Page 25 of Every Duke Has His Thorn
“Yes, Winston?”
“The suit of armor you inquired about has been located.”
“Very good. Have you seen Sir Joseph today?” He’d sent a note to the man cancelling their morning meeting. What with the rain, there was little work to report on.
“I believe the gentleman and his daughter have just entered the hall and are inspecting the paneling in the entrance hall.”
He replied, “I need to speak with Sir Joseph, and then I would like to see the armor.”
“Yes, Your Grace. The footman who discovered the armor will await your pleasure at the staircase down to the cellars.”
Finished with his meal, Preston made his way to the entrance hall. His first glimpse of Miss Davies set him on his heels. She was laughing at something her father had said, her head tilted to one side, her cheeks glowing.
The green sprigged muslin walking dress she wore was stylish, her boots and gloves dyed to match. He didn’t think he’d ever really noticed the intricacies of a woman’s wardrobe before.
“Your Grace!” The young woman stopped laughing immediately.
“Your Grace,” her father said with a bow, “My daughter and I were just now having another look at the entrance hall. There are several loose panels but no other damage to the walls.”
He replied lightly, “That is good to hear. Miss Davies, the suit of armor has been located in the cellars. Would you and your father care to accompany me to view it?”
“Oh yes! Father?”
“I would love to see the armor,” her father responded.
“Let us go.” He walked out of the entrance hall and to the servant’s staircase, Sir Joseph behind him, followed by his daughter.
A footman holding a lantern led them down the stairs and to a door on the left of the underground landing. Delicious smells wafted to them from the nearby kitchens. Although the servant’s quarters were in another building, the servant’s dining room, the plate room, and the wine room were in the cellars.
“The armor is just in here, Your Grace,” the footman said nervously as he opened the door to the room. “It was hidden behind quite a few pieces of furniture and under a tarp, or I’d have found it sooner. I haven’t moved the armor, just cleared away some of the furniture that surrounded it.”
The suit of armor stood gleaming dully in the light from the lantern. The suit was mounted on an ornate mahogany stand, the segments of armor linked together with wire. The result was not aesthetically pleasing, and Preston could imagine why the piece had been relegated to the cellars.
He said to the footman, “Put the lantern on that dresser just there. We can find our own way back upstairs.”
The young man put down the lantern and exited the chamber. Miss Davies edged closer to his side and the suit of armor. He could smell her perfume. The light citrus scent suited her.
“Do you have your copy of the poem?” he asked the young woman, pulling a duplicate he’d made from a pocket in his trousers.
“I do,” she replied breathlessly.
For a moment, he wished she didn’t have a copy, and they could huddle together in the low light from the lantern. And then he remembered Sir Joseph was also present.
“What does it say, my dear?” the architect asked.
Safeguard your home,
Guard your treasure,
Sabatons shield your feet,
And secure wealth beyond measure.
“That is really quite straightforward,” the architect replied.
Preston thought so as well. He put his copy of the poem back in his pocket and said, “If you would steady the armor, Sir Joseph, I will check the sabatons.”
The other man nodded and grasped the right side of the suit of armor by the shoulder. As Preston bent low to carefully separate the right greave from the right sabaton, he noticed a plank of wood nailed to the back of the armor to help keep the suit together.
