Emily actually smiled. It lit up her face, dimming the bright morning sun. Julian could not help but return that smile, it refused to be denied, though he felt that there was no reason to smile. This was a solemn agreement made with a dying woman. Only tragedy was ahead. Tragedy and grief.
“May I make another request?” she asked.
The tremor had left her hands and her voice was even now. She raised her chin as she had done the previous evening, giving her a sense of pride and dignity. In that moment, she was an eagle, and Julian found himself in awe of her self-possession.
“Name it.”
“That while I am here, there is no further mention of curses? You maintain that these will be my last few days or weeks of life?”
Julian nodded curtly.
“Then allow me to enjoy them. I confess that with the thought of my parent’s worrying for me dealt with—there are reasons for me wishing to be somewhere other than home.”
Julian’s frown deepened. He wanted to ask more questions, found himself insatiably curious about Emily. Her life. Her past. What she was truly dealing with that night.
But, he stopped himself.
She was clearly uncomfortable and must have reasons for hiding the truth or lying. He nodded and smiled as though the matter were of no import. He made a mental note not to talk of York—such conversation would be natural assuming that she knew the city well. But if she did not, then it would simply expose the lie and put her in an uncomfortable position.
“You shall have anything that makes you comfortable,” he assured her finally.
Emily placed her teacup down on its saucer. “May we begin with a guided tour of this remarkable house?” she then asked brightly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ester felt herself to be a heroine in a fairytale. One of those with a grim atmosphere that didn’t necessarily end on a happy note. She was a prisoner in a rambling, dark castle, seemingly populated only by a Duke who believed himself cursed, a maid, butler, and cook.
In this fairytale, the tall, dark Duke would surely be the villain. There would be a handsome woodsman who would come to Ester’s rescue from his dastardly clutches. Except, Ester was not sure that shewantedto be rescued. She knew that she ought to and whenever she thought on the fact that she could not leave of her own volition, it grated. In fact, it sent resonances of panic through her. It was too close to the assault perpetrated on her by the Viscount Kingsley.
But the fact was that here, for just a few days, she did not have to worry about scandal. About stealing from her father to pay for Kingsley’s silence. She could surrender to the whims of the Duke and pretend that her troubles belonged to another.
It was a relief.
Julian seemed to like the idea of showing her around the house, smiling, and beginning with the breakfast room. He waved his arm about the room, tea sloshing in the cup he held.
“Well, this is the breakfast room, looking eastward over what I laughingly call a garden. Hardly the English school I’m afraid.”
Ester looked out across the overgrown and neglected space. There were outliers of the forest impinging at the far end and the wall that was supposed to separate the garden from the forest was almost buried beneath ivy. There was no color to it, as one would expect perhaps in winter. The stone was gray and mottled with lichen. The ground was brown and green where new weeds climbed over old. Statuary dotted the garden, also in the process of being claimed by nature.
“I presume you are not a lover of the natural world,” Ester remarked.
Julian looked out of the window with a frown. “On the contrary. I just do not know where to begin. And I do not have the staff. Some of my formative years were spent roaming the hillsides of Cumbria.”
“You mentioned that before, I think.Cumbria. And you are the Duke of Windermere?”
“I am,” Julian replied.
“I have seen Windermere Castle from afar. It looked a splendid place. Very…”
“Gloomy,” Julian finished.
“I was going to sayatmospheric,” Ester replied with a giggle.
Julian grinned ruefully.
“That is why I assumed you did not care for nature. Windermere Castle looked such a lonely place. High up on its hillside overlooking the lake. For you to choose to live so close to London, I assumed that was your preferred environment.”
“It is not. I should like nothing better than to find a place as isolated as Windermere. This has been suitable for five years. As far from Windermere as I could find and still be away from people.”
