Page 15 of The Duplicate Duke
He relaxed in the saddle and listened to his cousins ramble on about their castle, enjoying Graham’s youthful excitement.Miles wondered if he’d ever been that young, that naïve.Yet there was intelligence in the duke’s conversations.He would brook no fools, and Miles would be by his side to be sure of it.
The carriage rattled over the stone bridge, and as it passed beneath the portcullis, Graham cried from the window, “My horse, my horse, my kingdom for a horse!”Laughter followed, and Miles’s heart was light when they entered the courtyard.
Mr.Garner was already standing on the portico to greet them.He had resumed his usual exterior of the sedate and proper butler, his gray hair neatly combed back, his black coat, waistcoat, and trousers a sharp contrast to his pristine white cravat.“Welcome, your ladyship, Your Grace, my lord,” he said with a bow.“Welcome to Shackerley Place.”
Miles enjoyed the reaction on his cousins’ faces at their first glimpses of the estate, taking their rightful places after so long.“For the love of Hercules,” whispered Shackerley, then whistled.“Were you here before, Mama?”
She nodded, blinking rapidly.“Once, when Harry told his father of our marriage.I was shown to the parlor—there to your right.I have not seen the rest of the house.”
Miles hadn’t realized Lady Greywood had visited the castle.It must be a bittersweet memory, remembering the beginning of her loving marriage, then the rude reception of her father-in-law.
“Once you are settled, I will give you a tour at your convenience,” said Mr.Garner.“Your bedchambers have been prepared.”
Before them, the wide entry hall held several portraits of past generations, some medieval weapons, and at the far end, guarding the double staircase, were two suits of armor.Several footmen passed them, hauling trunks to their rooms.They followed the butler in the wake of their luggage.Stopping on the second step, Shackerley knocked on the helmet of a suit of armor.“Hello in there,” he said with a guffaw.
Mr.Garner frowned over his shoulder, then continued his climb.The duke wagged his brows at Miles and his mother, his dimple showing with a wide grin.“This will be an adventure.I feel like I’m in a gothic novel.”
“Wait till I take you up to the battlements,” said Miles.“My sister and I used to shoot arrows from the top, pretending to be knights defending the castle from attack.”
“Could you teach me archery?”asked Shackerley.“I’ve always wanted to play Robin Hood.”
Miles snorted.“As long as I’m not supposed to be Maid Marian.”
* * *
Gwen huggedherself once she was alone in her chambers.The duke’s chamber was large and decidedly masculine with the counterpane, carpet, and curtains in dark blues and golds.The tester bed was huge, and the tall windows were all open, letting in a cool breeze off the fields behind the castle.
There was a rug outside the bedroom door, and she’d asked Mr.Garner what it was for.
“For His Grace’s bloodhound.He was quite devoted to his pack and especially the bloodhound,” he’d answered.“The dog was trained to sleep there and guard his master.I tried to keep him in the stable at night, but he only howled for hours.So I let him in before I retire and let him out when I get up.”
A dog!Gwen had always wanted a dog.“What is its name?”
“Harry,” the butler had answered.
Harry was her father’s name.Had her grandfather given the dog his son’s name out of affection or as a cruel joke?Yet Mr.Garner had said the old duke was devoted to the bloodhound, so perhaps… Perhaps her grandfather had loved his son after all.Men and their emotions were such a conundrum.Women didn’t need such pretenses.They laughed when amused, frowned when angry, and cried when sad.No silly mask to hide their feelings.She was suddenly thankful she only had to be a man temporarily.
Her mother knocked on the door.“May I come in?”
“Of course, Mama,” she said, running to open it.“Can you believe we will be living here?”
Her mother gave Gwen a weak smile.“It is a lovely place.”
“But your memories here are not happy.”
“Non, I’m afraid not.But I believe you will be.You have taken to this country like you are completely English and not half French.”She kissed Gwen on the cheek.“You’ve done an admirable job so far.”
“With your help.Giving me the look when I forget my voice, binding my chest every morning, tying my cravat.I’ll never become adept at those pesky neckcloths.”She hugged Mama.“I do hope you get used to living here.I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“My options are staying or going back on one of those dreaded ships.At this moment, I’m not sure which would be worse.”
Gwen walked to the window and leaned over the sill, breathing in the warm air and gazing out over the landscape.Below was a side yard leading to the stable, and beyond that a patchwork of green pastures and fields of hay, ending with a tree line.All this space where Boston had been so crowded.She would begin her riding lessons tomorrow.
“Dear, we need to discuss dinner.We’ve been rather informal, what with all the hotels and coaching inns, but there is etiquette to be followed at the table.”
Gwen walked across the room and flopped on the mattress, letting out a groan before bolting upright.“Do you think he died here, on this mattress?”
Her mother shook her head and laughed.“We do think alike.Non, Mr.Garner said the top mattress was thrown away and replaced with a new one.You should be quite comfortable.”
