“Let’s see. Sausages. Eggs. Bread. Hm. Not the freshest, but it’ll do.” She lit the stove and prepared her supper.
Chapter 4
He’d seen her arrive earlier.
He’d observed from his window in the tower room how the coach rattled over the drawbridge and stopped in the bailey. He’d seen her emerge from the coach, wrapped in what appeared to be countless layers of shawls. He’d seen her wait for a footman who never came and watch as the coachman unloaded the luggage unceremoniously in the yard. Then the coach left. The girl in the shawls remained behind, looking around helplessly until she marched up the stairs decisively and hammered on the door. So, that was Miss Cecily Burns.
He’d given Higgins orders to bring the girl to the room. He hadn’t forgotten about supper, had he? Higgins was a loyal soul, but he really was getting rather old.
He sighed.
He felt the girl’s presence in the castle almost viscerally. She’d changed the entire atmosphere. When was the last time a woman had set foot in this place? The old Duke hadn’t spent too much time here, and his wife had passed away when she was young.
Gabriel turned away from the window. He froze.
“Is anyone here?” the voice echoed faintly. What was she doing in this part of the castle? Didn’t he tell Higgins to put her in the old duchess’ room on the other side?
Dash it, Higgins had left and forgotten the supper after all. Now what to do?
He cursed under his breath.
He’d promised his father he’d honour the engagement to Burns’ daughter, and by Jove, he’d do that if it was the last thing he’d ever do, even if it went against every fibre of his being. He felt black despair course through him. It had been the last thing his father had asked of him. The girl’s own father had passed away with the smallpox. She would be destitute unless he honoured the engagement. “Do the right thing, I beg of you, son.” He’d read his father’s letter before he charged into battle. Before chaos broke out and he’d come close to death; not knowing that, at that very moment, his father was lying on his deathbed.
He’d forgotten all about the promise and the letter until he’d found the crumpled sheet of paper in the inner pocket of his old military coat. The ink was barely legible, and the paper was splattered with blood and mud. It had taken him months to find Miss Burns. He’d almost given up the quest of finding her, when, to his surprise, the vicar of a small town in Yorkshire had written to him that, indeed, he cared for the orphaned and destitute Miss Cecily Burns. So now he had to marry her.
It had been his father’s last request. He’d sworn to himself he’d honour it at all costs. But if the lady was reluctant to wed him, and well she should, there was nothing he could do.
Gabriel took a shaky breath.
He’d marry the girl tomorrow. Then he’d have paid his dues and would be relieved from it all.
The plan was to meet her then. Should he be a gentleman and greet her now? It would be the right thing to do.
He’d rather not, though.
He broke out in a sweat. Coward!
Yet he had to make sure she was taken care of.
He went to her room. He knocked. No one replied. He lifted his hand to the latch, hesitated, then pressed it down.
The room was empty. Where the deuce was she?
The smell of fried sausages suddenly permeated the air. Was Higgins frying sausages?
He stealthily descended the stairs to the main hall, before turning to the stairs to the servants’ hall.
There she was.
Standing by the stove. Frying sausages.
He was so stunned he nearly gave away his presence. He peered around the corner.
He saw her turn and tilt the contents of the pan onto a plate. She took the plate and lantern, carried both to the table in the servants’ hall, sat down and ate like there was no tomorrow. His stomach grumbled.
Suddenly, she paused with the fork halfway to her mouth and stared in his direction. He pressed himself against the cold stone wall.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” she called out. When there came no reply, the girl sighed. “I swear there is someone watching me. Bah, what a creepy place this is! I warn you, whoever you are: ghoul, ghost, gnome or poltergeist, don’t cross my path! I refuse to faint or be afraid. In fact, I don’t faint. I couldn’t even if I tried. Now go back to your coffin, crypt or whatever unhallowed ground you ventured forth from. Because I am not amused. Especially when I’m hungry. Dear me, I’m hungry.” She bit into the sausage with gusto. “Hm. This is good.”
