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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

F loorboards creaked on the stairs outside the tower, alerting Cyrus to someone’s presence. He looked up from the yellowed, dogeared pages of the book he had been reading, closing it quickly and tucking it away in the wooden chest at his feet.

“Your Grace?” a familiar voice called out before he could ask who was there.

“What is it?” he replied, getting up from the rickety old chair.

Belinda opened the door, peering in. “You asked to be informed when the guests arrived.” She gestured back over her shoulder. “They’re just coming up from the road.”

“Thank you, Belinda,” he said, padding over to the tower window to watch their approach.

But the housekeeper lingered, her silence louder than her words.

“Was there something else?” he asked, leaning against the wall as he gazed outward, spotting the carriages on the meandering track that eventually ended at the outer wall.

Belinda unleashed a heavy sigh. “I know you’ll say it’s not my place, but you need to sleep more, Your Grace. You look tired. And I know you haven’t been eating much.”

“I shall bear that in mind.” He waited for her to depart, but there was no relief upon hearing the door close again, her footsteps retreating down the staircase.

How can I sleep easily when Teresa is lying in wait, ready to appear when I close my eyes?

It had been an unsettled few days since the failed dinner, the entirety of the castle seemingly on edge in the wake of the argument. He was no fool; he knew how swiftly gossip spread among a household, but he wished the events of that night had not gone beyond the dining room.

He had behaved in a manner unworthy of a duke.

Everything he had said to Teresa, it had been selfish and insane, and he had heard it thrumming in his voice, but he had not cared at all.

Not in the moment. With her laughter at Silas’ antics ringing in his head, he would have torn the castle down, stone by stone, with his bare hands if it meant no other man would ever touch her.

It had been a sort of madness, and it lingered.

He did not trust himself to be in her company again and, figuring she was in no mood to see him either, he had chosen to give her space over the past few days.

But that is about to change…

His gaze tracked the carriages coming up to the castle, steeling himself for the performance to come. Teresa’s family and friends would expect harmony, and they would find no discord from him.

“Tessie!” Prudence shot across the bailey, launching herself into Teresa’s unprepared arms, almost sending both of them flying.

Catching herself at the last moment, Teresa embraced her sister with all her might, savoring the sweet reunion. “Oh, my darling Pru. You do not know how much I have missed you.”

“Did you get my letters?”

“I did.” Teresa smiled against her sister’s shoulder. “They cheered my spirits immensely.”

Prudence pulled back, raising an eyebrow. “Are the Captain and Miss Savage still hopelessly in love? Did Miss Savage make it onto the ship in time?”

“Pru!” Teresa gasped, blushing. “Have you been reading my collection? Is that why they have not yet arrived?”

“Mama has been delaying their delivery,” Prudence whispered, as if their mother was in the vicinity, instead of comfortably back at Grayling House.

“She still does not think it is ‘proper’ for you to be reading such things. In truth, I think she believes it is even less proper, now that you are married. But Izzie and I have conspired to get them to you; have no fear.”

Teresa raised an eyebrow. “You still did not answer my initial question.”

“I may have indulged a little,” Prudence admitted, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Before Teresa could scold her, the rest of the party hurried across the gravel to greet her, Isolde nudging the youngest out of the way so she could wrap Teresa up in the tightest of hugs.

“I have thought of nothing but you since you left,” Isolde gushed, squeezing Teresa to the point of almost cracking a rib.

“Rather, I have worried about nothing but you since you left. I have not slept properly, I have barely eaten, I have positively eroded part of the floor in my bedchamber, and I am certain my dear family think I have gone mad.”

Teresa could not help but laugh. “What of my darling nephew? He must be feeling terribly neglected with all that pacing.”

“Joseph asks for you constantly,” Isolde replied, her eyes shining with adoration for her son.

“He wanted to come with me, but… considering the nature of your husband, I thought it wise to leave him at Davenport with Edmund. Now that I am here, however—goodness, he would have adored it. It is every boy’s dream to visit a castle, pretending to be a knight. ”

“Next time, perhaps,” Teresa said, forcing a smile.

Isolde’s brow furrowed, and she stepped back to take a good look at her sister. “Are you well? You look pale. A little thin.” She lowered her voice. “Has he hurt you? Are you… safe?”

“He has not hurt me,” Teresa lied, certain that her sister was talking of physical injury, not emotional. “I am as you see me. Perfectly fine.”

“What is that I smell on the air?” a different voice interjected, Beatrice bumping Isolde aside with her hip so she could have her moment with her friend. “Why, I do believe it is barefaced fibs that I smell. Might you know something about that? Have you a batch of them boiling in the kitchens?”

Teresa shrieked as she threw her arms around her dearest companion, the two of them jumping around in circles as they held one another. It had felt like a lifetime since she had seen her sisters, but it had felt like an eternity since she had seen Beatrice.

“How are you really?” Beatrice demanded to know after the excitement had faded, pulling back to scrutinize her friend with keen eyes.

“Your sister is right, you do have a complexion comparable to milk, and you are definitely thinner than you were. We must feed you up like a goose while we are here; I shall take no argument.”

Teresa mustered a smile. “I am… perfectly fine, just as I said. I have not the faintest notion of how to be a capable duchess, but I am otherwise… fine.”

“I do not profess to know anything about being a duchess either,” Beatrice said, grinning, “but I think you are supposed to offer your weary guests an abundance of tea, cake, and gossip. We want to know everything, and we shall want to investigate so we can be certain of your being ‘perfectly fine.’”

Isolde smiled. “Tea would be rather lovely, and we have a lot of questions.”

“But we shall not ask them all at once,” Prudence cut in. “We shall ask them sparingly, between remarks about the weather and the exorbitant cost of ribbons and bonnets.”

Despite the circumstances, and the argument that still simmered in Teresa’s head, she felt the smallest rush of serenity as she looked around at the three women she adored most in the world.

She had not known if they would be able to come and visit her so soon, pouring a great deal of hope and prayer into her invitations to them, but they had not let her down.

They were here, precisely when she needed them the most.

“You see, I am already learning,” she said lightly, her heart filling up with happiness. “Let us have tea and cake and…do be gentle with the questions.”

Linking arms with Beatrice and Prudence, while Isolde held onto Prudence’s other arm, Teresa guided everyone into the castle that was now, for better or worse, her home.

“I swear it to you, I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen him since we arrived after the wedding,” Teresa insisted, laughing. Although, if she were not with her friend and sisters, it would not have seemed so very amusing at all.

They sat together in what Belinda had referred to as the ‘Tea House,’ which turned out to be an exquisite glass structure to the side of the gardens that Teresa had mistaken for another greenhouse.

It was warm and comfortable and had the most beautiful view out onto the rose gardens, with a soothing fountain inside that trickled quietly, conjuring daydreams of being beside a summer stream.

Isolde seemed dumbfounded by Teresa’s admission. “Is there something the matter with him?”

“Well, that is what I should like to know,” Teresa replied, keeping his secrets to herself. “Goodness, I know I had a reputation for being dull, but I did not think my husband would find me so tiresome, so quickly.”

“No! Enough of that!” Beatrice scolded, waving half a strawberry tart at Teresa. “I will not have you speak that way about yourself, ever. You have never been dull. If anything, the way you ended up married is proof of that.”

Prudence smirked over the top of her teacup.

“Mama holds you responsible, Beatrice. She thinks you are a terrible influence who led her sensible middle daughter into disrepute.” Her eyes twinkled with irreverence.

“Now, if she had paused to read but one of Tessie’s beloved novels, she would realize who is truly responsible. ”

“Prudence!” Teresa chided through her laughter. “You must cease your teasing. If you do not, I shall never tell you what happens to the Captain and Miss Savage.”

“No, you would not be so cruel,” Prudence protested, giggling.

It was heartening to hear at least one place in the castle and grounds brimming with good humor and lively voices, and even if it meant enduring jests at her expense, Teresa would accept every bit of teasing to keep that cheer going.

Indeed, it was like a different residence altogether, as if they were back at Grayling House or Davenport Towers, spending a merry afternoon together.

“And who are the Captain and Miss Savage?” a deep, startling voice asked, bringing the laughter to an immediate, jarring halt.