Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ROWEN
The molten red wax bled out from under his ring. Rowen had sealed the final letter announcing the death of the Duke of Oakley.
All his life, he’d taken for granted the ancient red seal, but now it was his to use. The hawk clutching a leafy oak branch with an acorn in its talons was his insignia. His birthright.
The servant took the letters for delivery, and Rowen went to Lady Cassandra’s chamber.
She opened the door. “Your Grace.”
He winced at the sound of his title coming out of her mouth, and he pressed a hand down his chest.
“Will I return to my uncles now?” she asked. “Now that your father…”
“I will never send you back to them. You are under my protection. By law.” He gripped her shoulders. “I will always keep you safe, Cassandra.”
She lifted her face to his. Soft and radiant all at once. “Very good, sir”
Letting her go, he cleared his throat. “The funeral will be in two days’ time. A small circle of family and friends. I would ask you to stay in the nursery until it is over. No one goes in there. For now, your presence must remain undisclosed. Trust only myself and Morgan.”
“Only you or Morgan. I understand.”
Rowen put more distance between them. “Did Morgan show you the gib door in the nursery?”
“He did.”
“Good. In this house, even a child’s nursery has a hidden passageway. If need be, use it. It leads outside to the stone temple on the hill.”
“Hawk’s Crown,” she whispered.
“I shall come to you after they’ve all left.” He took her hand in his and brushed her soft skin with his lips. “I shall find you.”
Cassandra whispered, “I am sure of it.”
Rowen had taken care of every detail. A night funeral with a procession to the village church and then back to Tidesfar for burial in the family crypt.
He’d hired a funeral furnisher from Bristol for a pretty penny to make all the arrangements befitting his father’s station and do it all swiftly.
The east parlour was draped in swags of black fabric, his father’s body in the centre, surrounded with more black swags and artful heaps of aromatic flowers.
To all this grotesquerie, his cousin Arthur arrived with his wife and sister to celebrate his father’s birthday.
“What in the devil is going on?” Arthur removed his hat.
“My father died. As you were on your way here, I was unable to alert you as to mourning clothes and such, but there it is.”
The locals came and paid their respects. The Baron of Graven, a childhood friend of his father’s, attended with his son, Brandon, whom Rowen had known since they were both small children.
“I’m very sorry for the loss of your father, Your Grace,” said Brandon.
The Earl of Ryvves, a close friend of his father’s who had been at the birthday party, came forward.
“Your father shall be greatly missed. Especially by me.” He glowered, his two sons, Hugh and Charles, standing behind him.
Both young men bowed their heads and murmured their sympathies.
They’d grown so tall, he hardly recognised them.
“I haven’t seen you two for quite some time.”
“You’ve been away for quite some time, Your Grace,” quipped Hugh, the elder brother. “Soon, I too shall be off on my Grand Tour. I greatly look forward to it. Anything is better than being here or in town.”
Rowen only grinned at Hugh. He’d once been like this young lord, hadn’t he? Self-assured that what lay ahead was bright and wondrous and so deserved. Now, in Hugh’s eager countenance, Rowen realised how all that endless self-indulgence had become rather tedious over time.
“If you’d like, I’ll draw up a list of all the sights you shouldn’t miss.”
“I would indeed. Most kind of you, Your Grace.” A wide grin broke over Hugh’s face.
Rowen, Brandon, Hugh, and Charles were no longer the children of the village aristocracy who would play together whilst their fathers hunted or their families hosted parties and balls. They were men now, some closer to inheritance than others.
More men passed, more hands shaken. Pleasantries. Condolences. Cassandra’s two uncles stood before him, and Rowen’s chin lifted, his eyes narrowed.
“We were most upset by the news of His Grace’s demise,” said Alastair as he bowed his head.
“I’m sure you were.”
“And our niece?” the other one whispered hoarsely.
“What of my ward?”
Alastair winced but smiled. “We must take her home with us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your Grace, surely you can see that she cannot stay on at Tidesfar.”
“She can and she will. In the eyes of the law, Lady Cassandra is now under my care and protection. Mr. Combs?” He gestured at his solicitor, who stood nearby him, and the man moved forward immediately. “This is my solicitor from London. He shall inform you of the particulars.”
The brothers’ features tightened. “Particulars?” Alastair spit out as if the word was sour on his tongue.
“Mr. Combs?” repeated Rowen.
Mr. Combs leaned forward. “Mr. Godwin, you and Mr. Godwin must vacate Redthorne this evening.”
Alastair’s body grew rigid. “This…this is preposterous. We are the girl’s only family. Her mother was our dear sister. Redthorne has been our home all these years as we took care of the child. We—”
“But Redthorne was never yours,” said Rowen. “And now it is under my protection.”
“Surely, we can remain there if she—”
“Absolutely not.” Rowen leaned into Alastair. “And do not dare ask me for any mercy regarding your debts, because you will find none here. Did you already inform all the tradesmen in the village that repayment was forthcoming?”
“We … yes…”
“That was unwise, and in light of this recent unforeseen tragic event, most unfortunate. Your agreement was with my father, who is now dead. Furthermore, your financial agreement depended upon him marrying your niece. Alas, that now is impossible.”
Alastair’s face paled. His brother swayed and grabbed Alastair’s arm as he mumbled, “What is happening, Alastair? What does this mean?”
Alastair pressed his lips together. “Your Grace, surely, we could come to an agreement that would be mutually—”
“You will not address me again. You will not address my ward at all.”
Alastair’s eyes flared. “I will not be spoken to in this manner.”
“You would prefer I cut you now and let it be known far and wide? All the right people are here for my father’s funeral. Most expeditious.”
“I beg you, sir, no…” breathed the other uncle.
“Gentlemen, my father found amusement in keeping you afloat. I do not. His Grace was most meticulous with his bookkeeping. He kept a special volume, where he’d record all debts owed him. Indeed, the listing for the brothers Godwin I found most entertaining. I’m quite sure others would as well.”
Alastair’s lips curled as he tore his gaze away from the young Duke of Oakley. He heaved a wretched breath. “I want to see this alleged will from my nephew.”
“Right this way, Mr. Godwin, Mr. Godwin, if you please—” Mr. Combs gestured for the brothers to follow him, away from the Duke of Oakley.
And into their ruin.