Nathan looked up, homing in on the sound of Marshall’s voice.
“Emily? Already? But she was not due to leave Scarborough until tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Your Grace. By all accounts, the young lady decided to leave early and then suffered some misfortune upon the road and ended up completing the journey on foot.”
The butler sounded scandalized at this innovation. Whether it was the deviation from the announced schedule or the idea of a young woman walking the roads alone could not be told. Either would be shocking to Marshall. Nathan rose.
“Well, then I will greet her and welcome her to Hutton. Has she been shown to her rooms? And her maid introduced to her?”
“She had already met young Charlotte when I came upon them in the kitchen, Your Grace. But yes, she has now been safely ensconced in her rooms,” Marshall replied.
“The kitchen?” Nathan said, raising an eyebrow. “What on earth…? But, never mind. I shall discover it from the horse’s mouth, as it were. Thank you, Marshall. That will be all.”
Marshall nodded his head in a bow of obedience. Nathan knew this because he detected the sound of the man taking a step backward as he prepared to take his leave. Marshall would always back away, bow, and only then turn his back to his master. Nathan did not hesitate but strode for the door to his study, the room in which all of his sculptures were housed as well as the means of producing them. The room was filled with the smell of freshly cut wood and varnish, a scent that always soothed Nathan. It had previously been a music room, underused as no lady had been in residence since his mother died. Nathan had put it to productive use given that his father’s study was sealed. He could hear Marshall ahead of him, then the servant’s footsteps rapidly dwindled following the opening of a door to Nathan’s left and the echo of shoes on stone.
Nathan strode past the staircase that Marshall had taken, which would lead down to the kitchen and his own chambers. He had picked up the cane as he rose from his chair but allowed it to swing easily at his side, not needing it within the castle. He knew the labyrinthine hallways intimately as well as the location of every item of furniture. Presently, he arrived at the guest wing and mentally counted doors as he walked along the thickly carpeted hallway. From the first doorway, a pronounced draught stole around his legs. Nathan knew the precise distance of the next door, and before the third was a faint depression in the carpet where a floorboard had sunk a fraction of an inch below the others. The fourth door along was the entry to the largest suite of rooms in the wing. Once intended to house visiting royalty during the long-ago day of the wars between York and Lancaster, it had been the obvious choice for Emily. The daughter of Walter Carlisle may not be a queen, but she would be treated as one.
And I will be sure to help her find a husband who does the same.
Stopping before the door, he stepped toward it and rapped smartly upon the wood, three times. He heard the sound of movement behind the door and then the sound of it opening. He smiled.
“Miss Carlisle. Welcome to Hutton Castle,” he said courteously, giving her a small bow.
“Your Grace, the Duke of Hamilton, I presume?” said a female voice.
“I am indeed. And your servant while you reside beneath my roof. I must say, you have your father’s accent. A curious blend of north and south. More pronounced than he, I would say.”
“The accents of London are difficult to dislodge, even when in Yorkshire,” the woman said.
Nathan frowned, trying to remember where Walter had told him his daughter had spent her formative years. While he had resided in Scarborough for a number of years, his previous employment had seen his family living somewhere in the vicinity of Brighton.
Perhaps I was mistaken. London and Brighton are not so far apart.
“I was surprised to hear that you had arrived so early, but I understand your journey was not easy. Have you dined?” he asked.
“I have not. And, you are right, my journey was not easy,” the woman replied.
“Nor have I. My hobby is an absorbing one and it often leads me to lose all track of time. Would you join me for a late supper? I can show you something of your new home while we walk to the Supper Room.”
“You have a room for supper?”
Nathan smiled broadly. “I do. There are so many rooms in this rambling old place that I began amusing myself by coming up with rather esoteric uses for them. Either that or half the castle would drown in the accumulated dust of disuse. Shall we?”
There was a fresh aroma coming from his guest. He could detect the fragrance of the woods about her, moss, grass, and bark. Mingled with it all was a hint of soap of a kind that he kept in the castle. The combination was unique and not unattractive. He stopped himself from breathing in deeply.
“…You are blind,” the woman said suddenly.
Nathan had half turned but stopped. “Did your father not tell you?”
“Yes, of course. I had somehow forgotten. Forgive me.”
From the sound of her voice, she had moved out of the room and her words were followed by the sound of the door closing behind her. He smiled but was puzzled over this second oddity. There could be no doubt that Walter Carlisle would have told his daughter that Nathan was blind. While Walter was a regular visitor, Nathan did not feel the castle appropriate for a child and had asked him to keep Emily away. But, the subject of his affliction must have been raised as father and daughter spoke of her going to stay at Hutton. It was an odd fact for her to forget.
Again, he pushed the thought from his mind, putting the inconsistency down to the experience of her journey. He stepped forward, believing her to be beside the door, and did not realize she was next to him until his hand, raised to show her the way, brushed against her. His fingertips touched her bosom, feeling the neckline of her dress and the warm, smooth skin of her chest. An image flashed into his mind of that skin, pale and perfect. He thought for a moment that he could feel her heartbeat, could feel it racing at his touch. Snatching his hand away he stepped back and bumped into a sideboard whose position he had quite forgotten about in the moment.
“I am terribly sorry. I quite mistook where you were standing,” he said hurriedly.
He heard her take a hurried step back of her own and heard the sound of a ceramic vase scraping against its wood plinth.
