“Oh, my sweet girl,” cried Julianna, punctuated by an ‘oof’ that spoke of a too-tight embrace. “I am… so sorry to see you go. I shall miss you terribly. Oh… my darling, darling girl.”
Discomfort writhed in Cyrus’ stomach as he listened to the fond sentiments of Teresa’s family. He had no notion of what it waslike to have such a family, wondering if he should have allowed his bride to have her wedding breakfast after all. A proper chance to say goodbye to the people she clearly adored, in a place that was familiar to her.
“I should not keep my future waiting,” he heard Teresa say, in a voice brimming with false brightness. “I will write to you all of my adventures, I will see you all just as soon as I can, so please do not worry about me. I love you all. I will be thinking of you.”
He sat up as the door began to open, pretending to check his fob watch for the time. He would not permit Teresa to see him ill at ease, and if she found him to be unbearable in his manner toward her, then all the better. That way, she would expect nothing from him.
She had just seated herself on the opposite squabs when Cyrus thumped his fist against the carriage wall, startling her. Pretending he had not seen the fear on her face, he turned his gaze out of the window, expelling a discreet breath as the carriage began to move.
Soon enough, he would be back at his estate, at peace once more behind those familiar, soothing walls. As far from society’s eyes and judgment as it was possible to be. After all, a castle was not worth much if it could not keep out the enemy.
CHAPTER NINE
Happy wedding day to me,Teresa mused silently, as the hours and the landscape rolled by outside the carriage windows. The sun tried to make an appearance once or twice, piercing through the gray skies, but the gloom was as overwhelming beyond the carriage as it was inside it.
She had tried a couple of times to begin a conversation with Cyrus, but he had offered nothing but brief replies, dousing her desire to speak entirely. As such, she had been left to find some entertainment in the silence, but even her imagination was unwilling to breach the interminable quiet.
As such, she had spent the journey staring at the opposite wall or out of the window or at the floor, wishing it was over.
“We are here,” Cyrus said suddenly, the unexpected sound of his voice making her jump.
Puzzled, for the carriage was still moving, she peered out of the window… and was met by a distant, haunting mirage that seemed to have been plucked straight from her most beloved novels.
Emerging from the fog, flanked by dense forest, sitting on the rise of a low hill, was a castle. A majestic feat of gray stone, bordered by a curtain wall of ancient fortifications, connecting slightly crumbling guard towers. The castle itself, behind that defensive wall, had twin round towers, crenellated at the top, joined together by battlements. Judging by the glint of windows, it had at least four floors of rooms, Teresa’s excitement rising as the carriage rattled on up a winding country road toward it.
This was just a glimpse—the front façade of the castle, but there was certainly more to be explored and admired, once within those protective walls.
How I have longed to see such a place…She had exhausted all of the castles and palaces in London, and now she was to actuallylivein one. Indeed, it was almost enough to chase off the disappointment and irritation of the morning’s rushed wedding and hastier departure.
It took all of the decorum she possessed not to shriek with glee as the carriage passed through an old, disused portcullis. Then, it rumbled along freshly laid gravel to a second portcullis, raised just high enough to let the carriage pass… and into the bailey of the castle: the central courtyard where, in days gone by, a duke in armor might have made a rousing speech before riding out with his vanguard to lead the attack.
“You did not say you lived in a castle,” Teresa managed to say, hoping Cyrus could not hear the giddiness in her voice; she did not want to give him that satisfaction.
“Wander only where you are told you are permitted,” he replied gruffly, as the carriage came to a standstill. “Parts of it are unsafe. If a door is locked, it is locked for a reason.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “If it is in need of repair, why have you not repaired it?”
“There are some things that are beyond repair,” he said, opening the door, “and best left to crumble.”
He got down and turned to face her, holding out his hand in an unexpected gesture of chivalry. Annoyed as she was by his behavior that morning, and his less than welcoming demeanor now, she found herself shuffling up the squabs and taking his hand. Anything to see the rest of the castle sooner.
But she forgot her eagerness for the architecture as she felt his hand tighten around hers, her gaze flitting down in surprise. She had taken off her gloves during the journey and forgotten to put them back on, leaving nothing between his rough, callused palm and the softness of hers. His skin was warm to the touch, his grip… oddly and infuriatingly reassuring as he helped her out into the large courtyard.
A square of pristine lawn took up most of the bailey, with a border of gravel around the outside for carriages to follow back to the portcullis. It would have been a remarkable place for aball, Teresa thought, with plenty of rooms for guests and space for carriages to line up to deposit their passengers.
Far too much effort for me, though.She shuddered at the very thought of having to organize such an event. Even Beatrice, who relished a party, would have refused such a tremendous feat.
“That tower and that tower are not fit for purpose,” Cyrus explained, pointing to the counterparts of the towers she had already seen, at the other end of the bailey.
The one on the right appeared blackened, the part thatshouldhave risen above the connecting battlements missing entirely. The one on the left was in slightly better condition, but every window seemed to be shattered to the frame, gaping open like unseeing eyes. As for the structure that joined the two towers together, it was half collapsed, carrying the desolate air of ruins.
Suddenly, Cyrus let go of her hand and pressed on toward a set of arched double doors, leaving one side open for her to follow him through.
“Your Grace!” a cheery voice greeted the newlyweds, belonging to a plump woman of perhaps fifty, with fiery coils of red hair that no lace-edged cap could restrain. The curls sprang loose in every direction, streaked here and there with a lovely, golden white. “We saw you coming from the tower, though we didn’t expect you back so soon.”
She was one of a neat array of servants who had positioned themselves in a uniform ‘V’ to welcome their Duke, her livelytone bringing immediate warmth to the cavernous entrance hall, and to Teresa’s somewhat homesick heart. Although Teresa could not help but blush as she noticed the staff looking at her, whispering out of the corners of their mouths, smiling in her direction.
“And this must be Her Grace, the Duchess?” the red-haired woman prompted, moving toward Teresa, keys jingling from a chatelaine that hung down from her belt.
