Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) (24 page)

He knew very well how to treat a mistress, but damn it, how did one treat a wife? He could not buy Kassidy an expensive trinket and expect her to come willingly into his arms—not after last night.

Kassidy glanced out the window of the coach to see fields of primroses waving prettily in the breeze. She thought how different this journey was from the first time she had traveled to Ravenworth. At that time, her grief had been so new, she had paid little attention to the village. She had traveled in a public coach then. Now she was accompanied by a coachman, a footman, and four outriders, whose only purpose was to see to her comfort.

When they neared the village, the coach slowed. To Kassidy’s surprise, the people rushed into the street, waving and smiling at her.

“Welcome, your grace,” one woman called out. “Welcome home.”

She glanced across at Elspeth. “How could they have known 1 would be passing through the village?”

“I’m sure they was told you was coming. They seem to be truly fond of you.”

“They don’t know me.”

“No, but they know his grace, and it seems they hold him in high regard, or else they’d not welcome you with such gladness.”

Kassidy shook her head, stunned by the outpouring of love she felt. “It’s like coming home after a long journey.”

She looked up at the magnificent castle that was perched atop the chalk hills. She might feel welcome in the village, but at the castle she would feel like an imposter. She prayed that Raile had already planted his seed in her so she would not have to remain too long. She wondered if he would already be at the castle, and a strange excitement stirred within her. She gazed at the battlement, and saw there was no flag flying. Disappointment settled on her like a heavy hand—Raile was not in residence.

Elspeth watched her mistress with the protectiveness of a mother guarding her young. She saw sadness in Kassidy’s eyes and wondered at it. Perhaps the marriage was not a happy one. She glanced up at the castle and could feel some of Kassidy’s concern.

“It’s a long road from Newgate to here, your grace,” she observed, “but you made it in short time.”

“Yes, it is, Elspeth. A very long road.”

“Look how the wee ones run after the carriage, your grace. It’s a tidy welcome, I’d say.”

Kassidy smiled at the gleeful sounds of the children. But her gaze returned to the castle that seemed dark and ominous. What awaited her behind those impregnable walls?

27

The crested coach wound its way up the slope past open fields of grain and beautiful meadowlands. Suddenly the horses’ hooves clattered on the cobblestone passageway that led through the high archway and continued into the courtyard of the castle itself. They came to a stop at the massive front steps, and a footman jumped down to hold the door for Kassidy.

As she looked up at the castle, she found the steps were lined with servants waiting to welcome her. Since Kassidy knew the housekeeper, she greeted her warmly. “I’m glad to see you again, Mrs. Fitzwilliams.”

“We are delighted you are here, your grace.” She had a special smile for the new duchess. “And may I say I’m so glad to see you well?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Fitzwilliams. I owe much of my recovery to your gentle ministrations.” Kassidy turned to Elspeth, who stood just behind her. “This is my personal maid, Elspeth O’Neill. We left London in such a hurry that she has no uniform. I hope you will help her acquire whatever she needs.”

The housekeeper smiled brightly at the Irish girl. “We will be pleased to help, Miss O’Neill. Just tell me what you require, and it will be arranged.”

Elspeth raised her head, feeling good about herself for the first time in many years. Her hair had been neatly covered with a white bonnet; she wore a new gray gown trimmed with white lace and new shoes pinched her feet. Pride ran through her as the servants of Ravenworth Castle welcomed her with respect.

Gratitude shone in her eyes as she looked at the young duchess. At last she had a home where she felt welcome and useful. She could forget about her dark past and look forward to a bright future.

“May I ask, your grace, if your little niece, Sweetness, will be arriving soon?” Mrs. Fitzwilliams asked eagerly.

Kassidy realized all the servants were waiting for her answer. “She will be here tomorrow, Mrs. Fitzwilliams. You might like to know her name is Arrian.”

Mrs. Fitzwilliams had spent the morning showing Kassidy the castle. They had walked through the great gallery where family paintings hung. They examined several salons and state dining rooms with their fresco ceilings. Kassidy had climbed wide stairs with newly laid red carpet.

The castle had been built on five levels and was constructed of mason stone walls. There were arched windows and a red slate roof. Kassidy walked up the steps leading to the keep and marveled that the stones were worn smooth by centuries of use. She envisioned the first people to climb the steps had been knights in armor with their ladies wearing velvet slippers.

Kassidy learned that there were fifty-five acres of landscaped land and hunting parks attached to the castle. On the grounds, there was an old mill with a waterwheel which was still used to grind corn. The land, including the village of Ravenworth, consisted of three thousand acres, which had been granted to the DeWinter family in 1214, along with a sum of money to build the castle.

“Have you known my husband long, Mrs. Fitzwilliams?” Kassidy asked as they entered the huge hall.

“Oh, indeed. I’ve known his grace all his life.”

“What is an ordinary day like at Ravenworth?” Kassidy asked with interest.

“As I’m sure you know, his grace is an early riser. His day usually starts at six in the morning. He will breakfast and then confer with his stewards and huntsmen. He will then instruct the workmen who are rebuilding the castle on their duties of the day.”

Kassidy nodded. There was no reason to tell the housekeeper she knew so little about her husband’s habits.

She watched as the massive chandeliers were being lowered and the candles lit. Her attention became focused on a beautiful silken tapestry of a lady and a unicorn. Moving to stand beneath it, she was saddened to discover that such a wonderful work of art had fallen to disrepair. Looking around the room, she saw there were twelve tapestries in all, each one sadly in need of mending.

Kassidy turned to the housekeeper. “Is there nothing that can be done to save these lovely old tapestries?”

“I’m afraid not, your grace. His grace had several experts come out from London, and they assured him they were beyond saving. But his grace refuses to take them down all the same. Only I am allowed to clean them, and I don’t mind telling you it worries me.”

As Kassidy looked at the wide stairs that led to her chamber, she was overcome with melancholy. How many DeWinter brides had walked where she had walked today? How many lonely duchesses had climbed
these stairs, waiting for their husbands to return? How many had married for love; and how many never had the love of their husbands?

She wanted to ask Mrs. Fitzwilliams if she knew when Raile would be arriving, but pride sealed her lips.

Slowly she climbed the stairs feeling very lonely. When she reached her suite of rooms Elspeth had unpacked her trunks and had a hot bath waiting for her.

After her bath and a light meal, Kassidy crawled beneath silken covers to spend her first night alone at Ravenworth Castle.

During the night, Kassidy dreamed she was back in Newgate. She tossed feverishly on her bed, crying out in torment. With considerable effort, she pulled herself out of the nightmare’s grip and sat up, her heart pounding with fear.

The room was dark, and she slid off the bed and padded to the window. Her heart slowed, and she could catch her breath when she saw there were no bars on the windows—she was not in Newgate. Pulling aside the heavy drapery, she watched a dark cloud block out the light of the moon.

“What am I doing here?” she asked aloud, comforted by the sound of her own voice. She moved back to bed, and lay awake, staring at the canopy overhead, fearing if she fell asleep the nightmare would return.

A thin mist hung over the valley as Kassidy reined in her horse. She turned to the groomsman, Atkins, who rode beside her. “It’s wonderful to be mounted on so fine an animal,” she said enthusiastically, patting the long neck of the gray Arabian.

“Indeed, Rounder here’s a fine one, your grace. His sire won three times at Ascot, and sired two other champions besides Rounder.”

Kassidy removed her brimmed hat and gazed across the valley. “It’s lovely here. I can almost feel the presence of generations of DeWinters on this land, Atkins.”

The old leather-faced groomsman smiled at the beautiful new duchess. She was already loved by those who served her, and Atkins was her willing slave. “I’ve been proud enough to serve three dukes of Ravenworth, your grace.”

“That’s wonderful, Atkins.”

“His grace has a love for the land, just as his grandfather had. ‘Course his uncle, the late duke, hadn’t much devotion for the land. He spent his time in London, so we hardly saw him for the last twenty years.”

“I suppose you knew my husband as a boy?”

“I did that, your grace. He was young when he came to live here. His mother had died, and he was sad for a long time.” Atkins was quiet for a moment as if he were remembering. “Yes’er, his grace and Lord John grew up at my feet, riding and hunting. They both loved it here. But I believe young master Raile loved it more than Lord John.”

“John was my husband’s cousin?”

“Yes, your grace. He met with tragic circumstances.”

“Yes, I had heard. ‘Tis a pity.”

Kassidy gazed up at the sky that had suddenly darkened.

“Looks like we’re in for it, your grace. These storms come up without warning here, since we’re so near the sea. We best ride hard, and even then, you’ll likely get soaked before we reach the stable.”

Kassidy laughingly agreed. With her blond hair flying in the wind, she urged Rounder into a full run. Over hills and down valleys they rode, heading for the castle that dominated the landscape.

As luck would have it, they reached the safety of the stables just as the first drops began to fall. Riding into the stable, Kassidy slid off the horse and proceeded to remove the bridle.

“So,” a voice spoke up from behind her. “I find a wild-haired woman riding my horses while I’m away.”

Kassidy spun around to find Raile smiling down at her.

“I can see you are a practiced horsewoman,” he complimented her.

Her heart was beating against the wall of her chest. She felt a sudden lightening of her heart. “I have been taking advantage of your stables, Raile. You have fine horseflesh—for that matter, all of Ravenworth is magnificent.”

Raile searched her eyes, looking for any sign that she welcomed him—he saw none. Her windblown hair was curling riotously about her face. She seemed to grow more beautiful every time they met. He had thought himself so noble in marrying her. Oh, yes, so noble in thinking he would be saving her from a life as a spinster.

A streak of lightning split the sky and landed so near that thunder rattled the stable. Kassidy moved to the wide doorway and watched the rain hammer against the earth. When Raile joined her there, she looked up at him and smiled. “I love the rain, don’t you?”

“I confess to giving it little thought, except that with the repairs on the castle, it can sometimes be a hindrance.”

She held out her cupped hand until it filled with rainwater. “My Scottish grandfather instilled in me a real love for the land and the rain that nourishes it. You have not truly been alive until you have stood on the moor, just after a rain. The air is so thick you feel you can almost touch it, and it smells so fresh and clean.”

Raile smiled at Kassidy’s enthusiasm. It had been a long time since he had felt passionate about anything. She spurred to life, that within him that he thought was dead.

“So you have a Scottish grandfather—that explains the blond hair.”

Kassidy nodded. “I am not unlike my grandfather in many ways.” She smiled up at him. “I’m told I have his temper.”

“So I have him to thank for that,” he said with a touch of humor.

“You would like my grandfather.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “No, perhaps you wouldn’t. Grandfather doesn’t like the British and never misses an occasion to say so.”

“But your mother married an Englishman, as did your Aunt Mary.”

“Grandfather is an earl, but he would rather be referred to as Laird Gille Maclvors, as he is known to the clan. He never spoke to my father after he married my mother, and to this day has not uttered one word to Uncle George.”

“Did your grandfather accept you children?”

“Oh, yes. You see, we were only half British, and that wasn’t our fault. His devotion to family runs deep. Except,” she added quickly, “for the British connection. Abigail and I spent wonderful summers riding down the rugged coastline with our Scottish cousins, exploring caves and pretending we were Viking raiders. Of course, Abigail had to be the fair princess who was captured and carried away by marauding armies.”

Raile’s dark gaze swept her face. “I’ll bet you were the leader of the Vikings.”

Her eyes danced with merriment. “Yes, always.”

“How did your mother and father meet?”

“My father traveled to Scotland to buy horses. He met my mother there, they fell in love, and he brought her and the horses back to England with him.”

“Is your grandfather still alive?”

Kassidy could not help but smile. “He is the most alive person I have ever known.” She glanced up at Raile. “He would not speak to you, or approve of our marriage. I think he always hoped I would return to Scotland and marry a Scotsman.”

“Did he also have a husband picked out for you?”

“Yes, indeed he did—Laird Fraser Robertson.”

“You rejected the man’s suit?”

“Of course. Fraser Robertson was three times my age and had already outlived two wives.”

Raile lifted Kassidy onto a wooden barrel, and pulled one up for himself. He wanted to know more about her. “Was your childhood happy, Kassidy?”

Her eyes gleamed. “Oh, yes. My mother was so wonderful, always laughing and happy. My father adored her. Abigail and I had a wonderful childhood.” Her eyes grew sad. “Then, my mother and father were gone, and my brother Henry and his wife moved into the house with their daughters. After that, there was little happiness for Abigail or myself.”

“Why is that?”

“Henry and Patricia believe laughter is ungodly. You already know what happened to Abigail. You know about my being in Newgate. But what you don’t know is that Henry always sought me out for punishment. I learned the night he took Arrian away from me that he had an unnatural attraction for me. I never want to see him again.”

“Nor shall you.” Raile reached out and picked a straw from her hair. “You never mentioned suitors. Surely you had many.”

Kassidy heard the creak of leather and glanced to the back of the stable, where Atkins, out of earshot, was polishing a saddle. “Henry did not allow Abigail or me to attend parties—he thought they were frivolous. I believe if he had allowed Abigail the chance to meet young gentlemen, she would not have been so enchanted with your half brother.”

Raile read the sadness and defiance in her eyes. He wanted to hear her laugh, to see her eyes dance with humor, then he wanted to see them soften with desire.

They both watched as Atkins dashed into the rain, making his way to his cottage. Now they were alone, but for the soft neighing of the horses and the sweet scent of hay, a smell heightened by the dampness.