The Guardian Duke: A Forgotten Castles Novel (18 page)

Alex nodded, giving Montague a side glance. "I will see you shortly then?"

Montague winked. "I'll be right here, my lady. Entertaining this lovely woman with my tall tales."

Alex smirked, one brow raised, and then turned to go.

At the top of the stairs, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She stopped, heart pounding as a voice said in her ear, "We'll be watchin' your door, lass, never fear."

She turned with an exhale of relief to see Baylor's tall frame.

"They have a journal. . . . I think it's Sloane's journal."

"Shhh. Let's not speak of it here. Wait until after dinner. We will all take a little walk and talk where it is more private."

Alex nodded and turned the knob to her door. "Thank you, Baylor. For everything."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, lass. Not for a leprechaun's pot of gold neither."

Alex laughed. "That, I don't believe."

"Well," Baylor shrugged, "you may have the right of it there, lass. It's a fine thing, the end of a rainbow."

Alex pictured it in her mind as she opened the door to her room. At the end of her rainbow wasn't a pot of gold. No, at the end of her rainbow stood her parents, alive and very happy to see her.

T
he captain of the troop traveling with Gabriel looked as if steam might come from his ears as he and Meade rode into Beal and the inn's grassy yard. His white hair was standing on end as if he'd shoved his fingers through it too many times, his face was an unbecoming red, and his eyes bulged out the moment he saw them. He started to speak, sputtered, and then clamped his lips closed as Gabriel dismounted and walked over to the short man. What was it with diminutive men and their tempers?

"My dear captain, I am so relieved to see you standing here in good health. I could not imagine why you weren't right behind us when the tide went out."

A vein in the captain's forehead pulsed purple, and when he finally choked out words, they were hissed between his gritted teeth. "We were served strong drink, Your Grace, and I have feeling you knew of it."

"Strong drink? How should I know of it when I wasn't even here? Besides, I'm not in charge of what your men drink. You are."

The captain inhaled as though he'd been struck and then turned his back on Gabriel and walked a few steps away. When he turned back around, he seemed more composed. "And where is the young lady, Your Grace?"

Gabriel gave him a shrug and a half-hearted smile. "It would seem the lady has gone on a little journey. Problem is, no one knows where."

"Impossible! How could she not be here?"

Gabriel slapped his gloves against one leg and moved toward the warmth of the inn. "It's hardly impossible. She hired a coach."

"The prince regent will be furious. This is your fault. You didn't control her."

"Perhaps." Gabriel motioned the captain inside and clasped him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. "Perhaps we'll all be in the soup. But let's not be too hasty. It has occurred to me that we might not tell the prince regent. We might find her and bring her to safety instead."

"Sir, do you speak of deceiving the prince regent?"

"Deceiving is such a strong word, Captain. I am only suggesting that we continue to do what we've been ordered to do. Find Lady Featherstone and bring her to London. Should the prince regent learn that she wasn't home where we all expected her to be, she will be the one in dire straits. I would spare her the prince regent's wrath if we can, don't you think?"

"But my orders and provisions are only within the perimeter of this trip to Holy Island and back."

"Don't fear the added expense, my good captain. I shall be glad of your help and pay accordingly. We'll need to spread out, some going south, some north into Scotland, and some west. And someone, preferably someone I can trust with her life, will need to stay here and lead the operation as it is most likely that she will come back home soon."

"I would insist on staying here in charge of the home base." The captain sat across from him at a low table by the fire.

Gabriel allowed a small smile to touch his lips. The captain was falling right into his hands, making it easier than he thought to rid himself of the soldiers. "I was hoping you would take the lead, Captain. You shall be handsomely compensated, be assured. Now"—Gabriel leaned forward and lowered his voice in secrecy—"Meade and I will go west as we've learned that a coachman left for Whitehaven about a week ago." He hurried on. "But another coach left for Newcastle upon Tyne a day later, so send your best two or three men south in that direction. The northern postal route is the least likely, but she may have smuggled herself on board a postal coach. It bears looking into."

The captain nodded, chewing on the end of his thumbnail in concentration. "I know just the men to send north, Bobby and Carter, they'll get into too much trouble sitting idle here."

"Good. That leaves Benjamin and Georgie to go south. If someone discovers her, they are to bring her back here so she can stay under your protection while the other teams are alerted. We can meet in a convenient place and then make our way back to London as planned, no one knowing we had a little hiccup, eh?"

"It's a sound plan. I—ah—apologize, Your Grace, if I've seemed short tempered on this mission. It's just that it's my first one directly from the prince regent and I've been anxious to please him. You understand, don't you?"

"Of course, Captain. The prince regent is not someone we want to displease in any way, which is why we must find our little bird and bring her safely to nest before he hears of her disappearance."

"You don't think she's in trouble, do you?"

"I hope not." Gabriel mused, looking off into the distance. "I think she's a precocious passel of trouble. But that will be my problem once I have her back in London. I, too, don't want to disappoint the prince regent. So, it's all set then?"

"Yes, Your Grace. We have an understanding."

EARLY MORNING THE NEXT DAY, Gabriel and Meade successfully crept out of Beal before anyone, even the scullery maid, had arisen. Meade had learned that Mr. Howard had indeed taken Alexandria west toward Whitehaven. He had not returned, according to Mrs. Howard, because he had business in a nearby town, which might take a fortnight to complete. His wife didn't know why Alex had gone or if she would return with her husband, but she leaned in toward Meade, wiggled her eyebrows, and said she doubted it. Everybody knew the young mistress didn't believe her parents were dead and everyone knew how much she thrived on solving mysteries. Was it any wonder she'd gone off looking for them? She thought not.

Gabriel was convinced of it. The letter from Ireland was cause enough to head in that direction and so he persuaded Meade to get back on his horse and gallop off toward the Emerald Isle. The thought of seeing it again after so many years actually brought a jolt of joy to his heart. A beautiful land, Ireland, but with a history rife with conflict and the struggles of the poor. The people, though, were rich of heart, living in a place that had a wealth of mystery and magic, if he believed in magic.

It was hard to describe the feeling when he'd been there last. A land of green and brown and blue so deep it made your throat ache to look at it—as if it had jumped right from the pages of a fairy tale. And the stories, so many stories that the bards of old still kept alive. Had Alex made it there yet? And if so, how was she faring?

He imagined her boarding a ferry, all alone. The coachman wouldn't follow her that far, he was sure. Maybe she'd had the wits enough to attach herself to another group, a group with women in it. The possibilities for danger made his stomach churn.

"Come, Meade, we must ride faster."

His poor secretary groaned but tapped his heels against his horse and tried to keep up with Gabriel. If they hurried they might make it to Whitehaven in three days, three days of torture for Meade, but what didn't kill him would only make him stronger.

TRUE TO HIS WORD, GABRIEL and Meade rode into Whitehaven on the evening of the third day. They went first to the post office on the slim possibility that Alex had left him a letter. Had she received his last post? Ann had said she had sent it here. If it was missing, then she'd picked it up and they would be certain they were on the right track.

Sure enough, when he asked the clerk if his letter had arrived and whether Lady Alexandria Featherstone had picked it up, he'd been told yes, well, sort of. The man was hard to hear, his voice was thin, which didn't carry well. It rankled to ask him to write down his words, but Gabriel did it, not giving any explanation as to why he couldn't hear him.

"A man came by and picked it up. He said he was traveling with her, a servant of some sort, though he didn't look like a servant."

"And you just gave it to him? He could have been anyone," Gabriel barked, panic washing through him. "What did he look like? What, exactly, did he say?"

Another man entered the post office and stood behind Gabriel. The clerk glanced at him, wrinkled his nose, and stammered, "He, er, looked like an older man, long, gray hair and a weathered face. He had a sword and comported himself like a—a leader of some sort. He barked orders at me, much like you are doing now, and I just—I just did what he asked."

The description sent Gabriel's level of panic up a notch.

"Did he say who he was? Did he give a name?"

"No, that is, I don't recall one. He just said he was here to pick up any correspondence for Lady Alexandria Featherstone."

"Did you see her at any time?"

The man shook his head. "He took the letter, glanced at it but didn't open it to my knowledge, and left. He seemed to be in a hurry."

Gabriel rubbed one eyebrow with a finger and sighed. Either she had this man with her, which could be for her protection if he was going around carrying a sword, or someone was following her.
Dear God, let it be the former.
Gabriel looked back at the clerk. "Did the man post any letters? Anything for the Duke of St. Easton, perhaps?"

The clerk pulled forth a box. "I do believe so, Your Grace. Yes, here it is."

Gabriel's heartbeat sped up at the sight of it. What was she up to? "Thank you. Where's the best inn in this town? I will ask if anyone has seen her there."

"The best inn would likely be the Queens Arms on Market Place, right in the middle of town, Your Grace. But there are over one hundred public houses in Whitehaven, due to all the shipping done here," the clerk said proudly.

"Wonderful," the duke intoned. He turned to go. His gaze met that of the stranger behind him for a brief moment. The man bowed his head, which Gabriel ignored. He would rather word didn't get out that the Duke of St. Easton was in town.

The chance of finding where Alexandria had stayed was too depressing to contemplate. They would rest tonight and question the shipping office first thing in the morning. She must have bought a ticket and there would be passenger lists. It might take some time, but unless she'd changed her name, he would find out where she had sailed.

He stepped out the post office door to the street where Meade held their horses.

"Any luck, Your Grace?"

Gabriel mounted his horse as he spoke. "Not much. A man picked up my letter to her."

"What sort of man?" Meade looked alarmed.

"The trained sort, it would seem. An older man, but strong and capable, used to giving orders."

"Do you have any idea who it might be?" Meade struggled to hoist himself back into the saddle.

"Unfortunately, no. Do you? Were there any other servants at the castle when you visited her?"

"Not that I saw. No one of that description, anyway."

"He's either with her or against her. Let's pray she's been smart and hired a protector."

"Uhm," Meade grimaced, "it doesn't sound like something she would do."

"You know her so well, do you?" Gabriel barked like a snarling dog. Meade's face registered shock as if he'd been slapped. "I apologize, Meade," Gabriel lowered his voice. "It's just that I can't abide thinking of her all alone. Surely she has more sense than that."

Meade clamped his mouth shut but looked doubtful.

"Well, let's get a move on. We sup at the Queens Arms and then an early day tomorrow. We'll find her, Meade. We'll find her."

THE CANDLE FLICKERED IN GABRIEL'S room as he sat hunched over Alexandria's latest letter.

My Dear Guardian Duke,

Oh, dear. You must be angry. If you are reading this letter, then you have discovered that I am not, presently, at my home on Holy Island. And you've tracked me to Whitehaven, which means you are determined to find me. I would ask that you give up, but from our acquaintance through these letters we have been writing, I would guess that you won't. Please, Your Grace, I beg you to allow me to search for my parents undeterred. When I find them, I promise to bring them directly to you in London. And I promise to give up should the trail of clues grow cold. In my darker moments I allow myself to question if they are really alive. I believe they are, wholeheartedly, but if they are not, I will then willingly come to you and be your most biddable ward. (To the best of my ability, of course.)

Yours,

Alexandria

Most biddable ward, ha! He liked the sound of that, but he knew her better than to believe it. She would always give him trouble. Why did the thought of it bring him excitement instead of dread? Perhaps he would have a lifetime of such excitement.

Folding the letter and adding it to his pile, he rose, blew out the candle, and climbed into the big featherbed. The Queens Arms was a most comfortable inn indeed. He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep with visions of her in his arms.

T
rue to her word, Mistress Tinsdale's sister, Helen, was waiting for them at the gatehouse to allow them entrance to Killyleagh Castle. They'd walked the short distance from the inn away from the harbor, passing the colorful rows of shops and houses on either side of them. A two-wheeled cart with a horse pulling it passed by. The lone driver lifted his hat with a smile and a good-day. The air was brisk with the feel of the sea in it, but the sun was shining and they were going to the castle. A day full of promise. Alex tried to temper her excitement as she told Montague and Baylor of the strange conversation she'd overheard from the night before.