Page 12 of The Wise Daughter

The duke’s arm was just as firm as she remembered from the previous night, but much more steady. At his first step, however, she saw him wince.

“You’re still hurt, aren’t you? Oh, of course you are. After what those men did to you?” Her anger flared at the very thought that the criminals had escaped. “We don’t have to walk, Your Grace. I’m quite content to go to breakfast now.” It was her fault he was putting weight on his injured ankle.

“I promise you, there’s nothing wrong with me.”

She rolled her eyes. “My father says the same thing when he is hurt. Do you expect me to believe you when you speak between grimaces?”

“I won’t let a few bruises stop me from showing you around the castle. Besides which, I don’t want anyone to perceive anything out of the ordinary with me.”

“I’m sure that is already out of the question, Your Grace. You became engaged to me as soon as we met.”

His face pinched with the next few steps, but he swiftly managed a smile. “Not true, Nora. We became engaged at least an hour after we met.”

“One earlier hour that no one else knows about hardly counts for much.”

“But it did count. It counted a great deal.”

He gave her a significant look, the sort that carried with it more meaning than the words he had spoken. She might have felt flattered had his confidence not convinced her that he had given other ladies that look before.

Once they fell into a rhythm, the duke either grew hardened to his discomfort or better at hiding it.

Never tiring, he led her up staircases and through corridors that turned her around so much, she would have been helpless to find her own way had she not made note of every distinct feature she could, a beam slightly askew, steps that grew wider or narrow, a unique set of tapestries.

All these and more, Nora tucked into her memory to learn her way through the extensive passageways.

The more staircases they climbed, the more convinced she was that they were not heading to the breakfast room. The duke eventually paused before a large, wooden door that matched others Nora had seen throughout the castle, only this one had a set of ornately sculpted sconces on each side.

When the duke opened the door, a breath of rain and wet stone rushed over her.

She stepped into the crisp air and saw that they were standing on the roof of some sort of watchtower.

The land below stretched as far as she could see in any direction she turned.

The sky was shifting from pale grey to clear blue as great gusts of wind tugged on her hair and shook her dress.

The stone was speckled with earlier raindrops that were already drying with the emerging sun.

Nora spun around, taking it all in, then stopped where the view displayed the estuary and sea beyond.

“Oh my.”

The Esk River wound through the land and village like a necklace, joining the sea which shone in the distance like silver glass. Never had she been so high. Never had she had such a vantage point. She might as well have been standing at the edge of the world. The thought made her retreat a step.

West Riding was nowhere in sight. That life was entirely behind her. She had not believed it until this moment.

A cold, brisk wind made the hairs on her arms rise. As she wrapped her hands around herself, the duke placed his coat over them, enveloping her in the warmth that carried the same spiced citrus scent that made her want to breathe more deeply.

“Thank you.”

He nodded like it was nothing. If the chill affected him, he didn’t show it, though his white sleeves ruffled in the breeze.

She wondered whether he felt any of the same feelings of awe that she did looking out at the land before her, or whether he had seen this view too many times to be much affected by it.

His eyes narrowed but gazed about as if he were seeing beyond the greenery and waters to other memories and thoughts. Nora hugged his coat tighter to keep out the wind and wondered, where was the man who had jested with her by the riverbank? This version of the duke was quiet and pensive.

“My father,” he began, “brought me here when I was a child, not long before he sent me off to school. He told me to look out as far as I could. This will all be your responsibility one day, he said. From the hills and forests all the way to the sea.”

Nora shivered as a cold gust rippled up through the coat’s opening and across her neck. Was he trying to show her his power and reach? She had never overseen more than her own household.

“It’s a great deal to take in, Your Grace. It’s very beautiful.”

“It certainly is.” He nodded. “And it’s massive.

I’ve been touring through cramped cities and museums for so long, I’d forgotten what it feels like to live here.

” He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sun.

“I just want you to know, Nora, that if this feels overwhelming to you, I understand. It does for me too. As you discover the castle and Ravenglass and all its surrounding parts, I will be rediscovering it with you.”

She looked at all the land once again, green and soft. The last thing she had expected was to hear him speak feelings that so closely echoed her own.

“I hadn’t realized you felt that way.” Somehow, acknowledging how overwhelming everything was lightened the sensation. “I’ve lived in West Riding all my life. It must feel strange to call a place home that you have not lived in for many years.”

He quirked a brow. “Just as strange, perhaps, as coming to an unknown castle that is meant to be your future home.”

“Yes, perhaps.” She brushed a hair behind her ear. His words made her feel shy and eager to discuss topics that did not reach so deep. “I’m sure there are stranger things, though,” she said, lightening her tone in hopes that he would follow suit. “Like ladies who talk to portraits.”

Behind the smile he released, she could see him brewing up his own jest. “Or, hmm, let me think. No. I can’t think of anything stranger than that.”

Her mouth dropped open and she found herself wanting to poke him in the side, but then she remembered that she would be poking a duke, not just the man by the riverbank who had teased her.

Instead, she pulled his coat tighter around herself and folded her arms. “You won’t get your coat back when you say things like that. ”

He laughed, then shrugged. “I could stay out here all day like this, but you must be hungry. Won’t you join me for breakfast now?”

Now that she had wandered the castle and breathed in the morning air, her stomach fully awoke.

“Since I have the advantage of your coat, I’m tempted to see who can last out here the longest, but you’re right. I am ready for breakfast.”

After several minutes of walking, they came to another wooden door with another set of unique sconces, and inside was, yet again, not the breakfast room.

It was the study from last night but with a new life bestowed by daylight.

Shelf upon shelf of books winked at her between enormously tall windows.

A barge of a desk basked in the sun of the stunning view outside.

The two high-backed, cushioned armchairs were positioned around a small table where scones, butter, jam, cream, and two teapots with cups and plates were carefully laid out.

“Welcome to my library, study, and sitting room all in one. It’s one of my favorite rooms in the castle.”

For the first time since coming to their agreement, she felt the promise of possibilities.

This was the sort of room homes were made of.

She ran her fingers lovingly down the spines of the nearest books.

If she spent even a small amount of time here, the room was in danger of becoming a favorite of hers as well.

“It’s perfect, Your Grace. You must recommend some books for me.”

“I’d be happy to.” His chest rose slightly as he surveyed his domain. “But remember, I’d like you to call me Aaron. I am your intended, Honora. There are to be no formalities between us.”

He was right. She should be ready to call her betrothed by his given name.

Strange that she didn’t mind him using hers, but she wasn’t ready to take the same steps.

She could exchange quips with him as easily as she could with anyone, but using his name now would only pretend a closeness that did not exist between them.

From where she stood, she could almost taste the heavy richness of the warm pastries that waited for her on the table.

“No formalities at all? Because my stomach also dislikes formalities.” Without waiting for further invitation, she dropped into one of the cushioned chairs and added a large scone to the plate in front of her.

“If you insist on using my Christian name, I would rather you call me Nora. Honora sounds too antiquated.”

He sat across from her and helped himself to a scone. “I think Honora is elegant and dignified, a timeless beauty, but if you prefer Nora I’m happy to oblige.”

“Thank you, Your Gr–”

“Aaron.”

She only nodded. Formality, whether he was pleased with it or not, must be her shield until she knew him better. He would have to remain His Grace. Aaron, though a fine name, would not roll off her tongue the way the name of her intended should. She would only say it if the word rolled with ease.

She sampled the warm scone, the buttery flavor melting over the thought of his name on her tongue. “Where is my father? Will he not be joining us for breakfast?”

“I sent him with Carver this morning to a neglected portion of land that I intend to trust to him, assuming he proves himself capable. The old manor that sits on that land is in need of attention before it will be fit to dwell in, so your father and Carver will return with their recommendations for repairs and improvement.”