“Why?”
“Von Gruner had a dispute with my father years ago. He bought Maiden Hill out of spite. I want Maiden Hill back. It belongs to my family. It’s our soul.”
He had no idea why he was blathering about his family to a young woman he’d just met, although his family’s tragedy was no secret.
But there was something in the way Isabella listened and paid attention to him that calmed the constant turmoil within him. Maybe because she treated him like a normal person and seemed genuinely interested in knowing him.
She paused. “Why did your grandfather hate the house?”
“My father died in it. He spent his last days there after my mother’s death.”
“I’m sorry.” She seemed about to say something else but pressed her lips together.
“What did you want to say?”
“I’ve already been too bold.”
“I insist.”
She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. “How did your parents die?”
“My mother contracted typhoid fever while volunteering at a children’s home. She died in a matter of days. My father never recovered from the loss. Grief became his disease. It ate him from the inside out. There was nothing we could do to help him.” Not even his love.
She touched his arm gently, her eyes shining with compassion. She didn’t say anything, and he was grateful for that because he felt oddly vulnerable, and a word from her might hurt him too much.
“I’m sorry to have made you sad,” he said.
“I asked.” She removed her hand. “And when you share sorrow, it weighs a little less.”
They walked side by side in silence until they arrived at the end of the path.
He opened another gate, revealing a dark passageway. “We’re almost there.”
She peeked into it. “That’s one frightening tunnel.” She glanced at him. “Please, don’t tell my mama we were alone in a tunnel.”
He smiled. “This conversation never happened.”
The passageway was so narrow his arm brushed against hers, and he had to squeeze his shoulders.
Her steps became hesitant when they walked along the constricting hallway. “The walls must be thick.”
“Five feet, give or take. Dockerly Castle was mainly a fortress. My ancestors lived in Maiden Hill but would find refuge here from the many Viking raids, fleeing to the castle through the underground tunnel.”
“Five feet. We could scream at the top of our lungs, and no one would hear us. I don’t hear any noise coming from the other side of the wall.” She paused and tilted her head. “Nothing.”
“I’ve never noticed that.”
“That would be the perfect place for me to practise singing.”
“Do you sing?”
“Not well. Do you want to hear me?”
“By all means, go ahead.”
She cleared her throat and made a few gurgling noises. “Just so you know, I don’t speak French. I’ll make up the words.”
He shrugged. “Fine.”
