Page 46 of The Blind Duke's Ward

As his carriage made the short journey across the River Ouse and onto the riverside street known as the King’s Staith, Nathan sat, brooding in the darkness with blinds drawn. He was not relishing the conversation that he was about to have. To tell a father that his daughter was missing. That no one had seen her or knew if she were alive or dead. Exacerbating the dark mood in which he found himself was the fact that he was not familiar with York.

For a sighted person, this was a minor inconvenience. For Nathan, it was a significant weakness. He could deduce much about his surroundings and the people with whom he interacted through the information relayed by the rest of his senses. But, in a strange place, he would be reliant upon the eyes of the sighted. Guidance would be needed from his carriage to the building in which Walter Carlisle was resident.

Then more guidance into the company of Carlisle himself. Every move would be faltering and slow. It made him feel an invalid and that infuriated him. As he felt the cobbles of the King’s Staith rumbling beneath him and the distinctive smell of a large river, the odor of open water, mud, and water-loving plants, his thoughts returned to Gemma.

A few days is all I have known her for. She came into my life two nights ago. But in that time, we have been in each other’s company for a week’s worth of time. Or so it feels. And she intoxicates me.

He knew the signs of a rapidly falling heart. Knew that it was irrational and, for him particularly, very dangerous. A blind Duke was exceptionally vulnerable to exploitation. While he could tell himself that he was intelligent and perceptive enough to avoid such traps, he could not deny that they existed.

But I cannot believe it of Gemma. I would wager my life that she is genuine. A free spirit who refuses to allow the stifling conventions of our society to restrict her. A rare gem indeed.

The carriage came to a halt and Nathan braced himself. He opened the door and felt for the steps that he knew were there, stepping easily to the street. Now, he was lost. This was a new residence for Carlisle and not one that Nathan had ever visited. He could not even be sure he was looking at the correct building. The driver had been instructed on his specific needs though and spoke to Nathan to let him know where he was.

Nathan nodded, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, and allowing himself to be led. Steps appeared and Nathan was aware of them before the driver called them out to him, he had already detected their presence with his cane. Ascending, he heard a door knocker being used, then the door being opened. He announced himself to the unseen servant who opened the door and was led inside.

“Master Carlisle is in his study. If Your Grace would follow me,” the servant said.

“Your Grace?” the driver asked.

Nathan frowned and nodded sharply. It would have been kinder for Carlisle’s servant to have been instructed to lead Nathan. Instead, the man had already begun to walk away.

Perhaps Carlisle has not yet had time to train his staff on the appropriate protocol.

Then there was the matter of greeting. It was perfectly acceptable for a gentleman to be greeted by a servant and then relayed to the servant’s master, the objective of the gentleman’s visit. But until now, Carlisle would have greeted Nathan personally, so that he may be led by a trusted man. He followed his driver into the house. His cane clicked sharply against several items of furniture, not in his path but not entirely out of it either. Another oddity. In his Scarborough house, Carlisle had taken care to arrange clear paths for Nathan, keeping his furniture carefully out of the way.

It was the kind of concession a true friend makes.

Perhaps he has not yet had time to arrange things here also. It is curiously lax of Carlisle if so. He was always the most efficient of men.

Presently, Nathan heard a door being opened ahead of him and his name being announced. Then, hearing the door close behind him and feeling a change beneath his feet, from wood flooring to carpet, Nathan realized he had reached the study. There was a smell of woodsmoke from the fire and polished wood. The acrid tang of tobacco reached him.

“My dear friend,” Nathan said. “It is good to see you again.”

Walter barked a sharp laugh. “If you could see me, Your Grace, it would tell you much of my current demeanor.”

Nathan allowed himself to be guided to a chair, feeling the arm of it with one hand and sitting smoothly.

“That will be all, Dawlish,” he said to the driver. “You may return to the carriage.”

The driver left the room, the door opening and closing. Nathan listened to his footsteps retreating through the house. Then he turned in the direction from which Walter had been speaking.

“What am I to deduce from that statement?” he asked.

“That I am displeased, to say the least,” Walter’s voice came from a different direction.

He had risen from his chair and moved towards the fire, Nathan thought. Another discourtesy, whether by accident or design, it left Nathan addressing empty air.

Is he trying to humiliate me? If so, for what purpose?

“The implication of that statement is that you are displeased with me. Would you care to explain why?” Nathan said calmly.

“Because I entrusted my daughter to you!” Walter snapped.

Nathan did not miss the lack of an honorific. It was not unusual for Walter, Nathan would not expect it of him. But, in this context, it also spoke of Walter’s anger towards him. A significant piece of the mystery became illuminated to Nathan.

“You have heard that Emily had not arrived at my house. I can assure you…” Nathan began.

“Assure me? Of what? She did not arrive. Her whereabouts are unknown!”