It was hardly any use. Everything about Hollyhead was cold. And large. And uninviting. There were hardly any people about.No servants wished to speak to him, he saw hardly any tenants on his daily walks, and the four young misses had been cooped up somewhere for the last few days, evidently unimpressed with their father’s… brother’s… whoever it was, replacement.
They were remarkably good at avoiding him. Though Justin was an early riser, he found that they usually breakfasted before him. He’d enter a room just as someone was leaving it, hearing a door slam shut. There were wisps of smoke where someone had blown out a candle. And there were whispers, everywhere. He’d hear strings of soft voices or giggles or conversation and wondered where they were coming from. He felt distinctly as though he were being haunted. By four living girls.
The oil lamp hissed as it began to die. Justin stood from the desk and walked to one of the windows, which overlooked Hollyhead’s reflecting pool and manicured lawn. The marble partitions seemed to absorb the moonlight, glowing bright against the dark-blue grass.
Mrs. Norris would be in bed by this hour, and he had no idea where to fetch new lamp oil, or how to ring for assistance, or if there were even servants that would be obliged to help him in the night. The chatelaine had been quite put out by his lack of understanding. Just yesterday the old woman had been absolutely befuddled by the fact that he had no valet for himself. When he remarked that he didn’t know why so many aristocrats required help to dress, she tut-tutted to herself, chastening him as she would a naughty boy.
Justin had barely been here for two days, and it was becoming clear that he was woefully unprepared for the life of a duke. It was the kind of role that one needed to be apprenticed to while young. Recognizing the need for reinforcements, he sent a letter today to his good friend Henry Peverill. Though Peverill was an unrecognized son of a marquis, his father had broughthim up under his wing and would know more of these matters. But until Justin heard from him, he was utterly alone.
Checking his pocket watch, Justin decided that he’d make sense of the mountains of paperwork tomorrow. Moving away from the windows, he made his way into the corridor. Now, if only he could remember his way back to the duke’s rooms.
Looking down both ends of the hall, he saw a glow coming from one of the many doorways. Curious, he headed in that direction. Perhaps he could persuade a footman to help him.
“Hello?” he whispered as he pushed on the oak door.
He heard a startled gasp as a figure barreled into him, cracking him directly on the nose. “Bloody hell!” Justin shouted.
Someone squeaked out an “Oh!” and stepped back. When the dots of light that danced in his vision had vanished, he noted the small, nymph-like creature in front of him. Blinking his eyes, he saw that it was Cordelia Nichols, but this time she was wrapped in something gauzy and form-fitting.
“I-I must apologize, Your Grace,” she said hurriedly.
Justin hummed a response as he touched the front of his nose, feeling blood begin to well there. He reached in his pocket for a handkerchief, dabbing it against his nostrils. “This is the third time you’ve caught me out,” he said.
Lady Cordelia, who was washed in orange light from the lamp she carried, blushed a deep crimson. He thought it looked rather fetching on her.
“Mrs. Norris keeps bandages and gauze in the kitchens. Perhaps I can bring you some?” she tried, her hushed voice echoing as she stepped into the hallway.
“I’ll come with you,” Justin suggested.
She hesitated for a moment, but then held the lamp in front of her, leading the way. In truth, Justin could have made his way there himself. Though he was raised on the periphery of the property, the kitchens were the most welcoming place in themanor house, where Alice used to invite him for a bowl of soup or crust of bread.
Lady Cordelia’s nightgown floated around her like a thick mist, her braided hair reaching almost to her waist. As soon as they’d been introduced, Justin knew that she was the young woman who’d been thrown off the black stallion. There was no mistaking those brown eyes that widened in shock when she saw him first in the forest and then again in the foyer.
She opened a creaking door to the kitchens and set the lamp down on a large wooden table. Justin plunked himself down on a long bench, letting the dim fire warm him. He had a sudden memory of Alice handing him rags to staunch the bleeding from a broken nose. He sucked in a deep breath, forcing down the image. He wasn’t that little boy anymore.
“Here we are,” Lady Cordelia said, laying a thick strip of gauze on the table. “I am terribly sorry, Your Grace.”
“What were you doing in the library at this hour anyway?” he asked. “I thought the doctor gave you strict instructions to stay in your room for the rest of the week.” Justin didn’t mean to sound patronizing, but cringed inwardly as the words fell from his mouth. That’s exactly what he sounded like.
Lady Cordelia bristled. “Well, I was feeling recovered and thought it might be good to stretch my legs a little.”
Justin harrumphed, tilting his head back to apply the gauze. She stood in front of the fireplace, watching him, a curious expression on her face. Out of the corner of his eye, Justin could see the hazy light had backlit her dressing gown, revealing the shadowy shapes of two well-curved legs, perfect for riding astride. A shiver ran up his spine. Would he ever encounter this woman in appropriate dress?
“Do you plan on running into me every time we meet?” he asked. He meant it as a joke, but it came off rougher than expected.
“Certainly not,” she said, her head snapping up at him. Those brown eyes narrowed, as though she were taking the measure of him.
“I am only joking,” he added. “Are dukes not supposed to make light of such things?”
“Well,” she began, “perhaps dukes with your upbringing.”
Justin’s eyebrows shot up at her reproach. Cordelia cleared her throat, gathering the lamp in her hand. “Is there anything else I can do for Your Grace?” she asked, her eyes darting to the door.
Justin folded his arms across his chest.Ill-bred dukes can play this game too, Miss High-and-Mighty,he thought. “Yes, perhaps you could take me on a tour of my estate tomorrow? I have been out walking but haven’t been able to see the whole of it yet.”
Two pink splotches appeared on Lady Cordelia’s cheeks, her lips pursing. Justin could tell when he hit a sore spot, and he gave her a half smile.
She nodded her head. “They are best enjoyed by horseback. Can you ride, Your Grace?”
