Chapter Seven
I f there was one thing to be said for the Godwin family, it was that they were persistent. Dunstan just wished they weren’t quite so persistent in seeing things that were not there.
“I believe I have, at last, ascertained the location of Morgana’s grave,” Lady Minerva declared the day after the matter of the taxes was resolved. “Lord Dunstan, would you be so kind as to return to the south parlor, where I left my notebook this morning, and fetch it for me so that I can continue recording my thoughts?”
“Certainly,” Dunstan had smiled to his cousin-in-law, then left immediately on her errand.
Five minutes later, he had found Carys alone in the south parlor, searching under cushions for the shawl that Lady Kat had evidently misplaced there the day before. Not only that, instead of wearing her usual, serviceable, grey day dress, she wore a gown of mauve that brought out the color in her face, and her hair was styled fashionably.
“Minnie, that is, Lady Minerva, insisted on trying her hand at styling hair this morning,” Carys explained when Dunstan complimented her, a bit breathlessly. “And Lady Muriel thought I should dress in one of her old gowns that she cannot fit into anymore because she does not want her former clothing to go to waste.”
They both knew that the real motivations for the kindnesses shown to Carys were something else entirely.
If that had been the only incident of the two of them being tricked into each other’s company, and if it had just been the new Godwin brides behind the mischief, Dunstan might have ignored the entire thing. But Uncle Gerald was just as wicked in his matchmaking attempts.
“I should like to take a stroll about the gardens to see if I cannot locate old Morgana’s grave myself,” he announced two days after the incident in the south parlor. “Dunstan, I insist you come along, and Mrs. Weatherby will accompany us.”
Dunstan and Carys had rolled their eyes at each other behind Uncle Gerald’s back, but they’d played along and taken him out into the frosty December gardens nonetheless.
Which was how they found themselves sheltered together in one of the stone archways near the foundation of the house with Uncle Gerald nowhere in sight.
“He feigns more illness than he actually has,” Dunstan explained as the two of them huddled close for warmth in the tight space.
“I am well aware,” Carys said, shivering slightly. “Lord Gerald is as spry as a man half his age, but it serves him to pretend he is feeble.”
“Yes, well, his mind is not feeble, that much is certain,” Dunstan said.
Then, because he could not bear to see Carys suffer the cold while they waited out a sudden spurt of rain before heading back into the house, he slipped his arm around her and pulled her against him for warmth.
The moment had been brief but potent. Carys had glanced up at him with her searching eyes. Dunstan’s heart had sped up as he gazed right back at her. The errant thought that she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met and that the changes the Godwin brides had forced on her were exceptionally flattering swept through him like the wind swirling the rain.
More than that, it suddenly occurred to him that his dearest friend in the world had plump, inviting lips, and tinged with the cold as they were, they begged to be kissed. Indeed, secluded against the castle as they were, it would require nothing more than for him to lean slightly closer, tilt his head a bit to the side, and hold her tighter to test her lips to see if they tasted as sweet as they looked.
Carys’s sudden gasp and the way she stepped back from his embrace both shook Dunstan out of his imagination and hinted to him that Carys was experiencing similar inappropriate feelings. He cleared his throat and said, “We should find my uncle before he gets himself into more trouble than he can escape from.”
That had been the end of that dangerous encounter. Now, three days after that, as dawn broke on the day of the Christmas ball, Dunstan was as disturbed as ever.
It wasn’t merely the family’s attempts at matchmaking between him and Carys that had him so unsettled. Matters of the heart were not the only thing swirling in the air of Godwin Castle. In the past week, more of the precious, antique books that had been freed from their shelves in the library had been damaged or entirely ruined. Several plates and platters had been dropped during family meals. A window on the second floor of the castle had broken for no reason, and two of the servants had injured themselves while completing tasks they partook of every day.
I fear it is the Curse of Godwin Castle,” Edgar said to Dunstan as he helped him dress the morning of the ball. Dunstan’s usual valet, Carl, was one of those who had been injured, burning his hand while reaching for a charcoal iron used to press Dunstan’s shirts.
“I have only fleetingly respected our family’s curse these past several years,” Dunstan said, tense and on his guard as Edgar assisted him, “but I am more willing than ever to be convinced it is ruling our lives.”
“I am very sorry, my lord,” Edgar said, nodding solemnly as he handed Dunstan his polished boots.
As subtly as he could, Dunstan peeked into his boots before moving to his dressing chair so that he might sit to put them on. He did not trust Edgar Pearce. Not after the incident with the punch in the great hall that had nearly killed Napoleon. The story had been told to Dunstan that one of the kitchen maids had accidentally taken a glass that still contained residue of lye soap from those that had been cleaned and had filled that one with punch before it was fully rinsed. Edgar reported the mistake to Dunstan himself, along with his profuse apologies.
Dunstan did not accept the excuse as true, even though he’d forgiven Edgar verbally. Especially since he had witnessed Edgar speaking to Carys with far too much familiarity, to a degree where it was clear he was bothering her, several times since that day.
His boots were clear of anything that might injure him, though, so he continued to put them on as Edgar prepared a selection of neckcloths for Edgar to choose from.
“Have you been told yet about how all the sugar in the castle has suddenly gone missing, and at a time when Cook is franticly baking for the ball this evening?” Edgar asked as Dunstan finished with his boots, then stood.
“No, I have not,” he said with a frown, moving to the dressing table and taking up a random neckcloth.
“It must be the curse, my lord,” Edgar said, his expression dour. “I am worried about the family hosting tonight’s Christmas ball in the castle. Heaven only knows what sort of disaster might befall some of Lord Gerald’s guests.”
Dunstan’s hands froze halfway through wrapping his neckcloth around his collar. He hadn’t thought of that. The guest list for that night’s ball was long. There was no telling what might happen or how much damage could be done to those who were not members of the Godwin family.
“It is too late now,” Dunstan said, continuing with his neckcloth. “We shall all simply have to be on our guard this evening to make certain my uncle’s guests have an enjoyable night.”
“Yes, my lord,” Edgar said with a deferential bow. “Though perhaps after the yuletide is over, it would be wise for the entire family to relocate to London for the remainder of the winter.”
Dunstan’s hands stilled again for a moment as suspicion raced through him. Did Edgar want the family to vacate the castle? For what purpose?
“I believe the issue of unifying Britannia under Mercian Law is under hot debate in Joint Parliament this session,” Edgar went on. “The family’s brides speak about the matter frequently. I know they wish to be in London with all due haste. Lord Gerald has mentioned his interest in the potentially monumental changes being debated in London at the moment as well.”
Dunstan let out a breath through his nose. As wily and self-serving as Edgar was, he was also correct on those points. Aside from breaking the Curse of Godwin Castle, unifying Britannia under Mercian Law was the single most talked-about topic amongst his family at the moment. Uncle Gerald actually had expressed an interest in venturing to London to see what there was to see.
Perhaps Carys would agree to go with them if they left.
No, Carys was essential to Godwin Castle. The entire pile of rocks would probably collapse without her.
But if she had an under-housekeeper to watch over things in her absence….
Dunstan shook his head and stepped closer to the mirror to check his reflection. He should not be thinking about taking Carys away with him anywhere. He should not be thinking about his friend in such a way at all.
But her lips had been so inviting.
“So will you go to London once the holidays have ended?” Edgar asked him, stepping up behind Dunstan to brush the shoulders and back of his jacket.
“I might consider it,” Dunstan said, as torn as he’d ever been and uncomfortable with having a potential viper in such close proximity to his person.
That feeling of not knowing what to do, or even what he was truly feeling, stayed with him as he ventured down to the breakfast room to join his family. At least half of them were there already, and they were deep into curse discussions.
“The entire thing is a two-part curse,” Cedric was explaining to Lord Arnold, as if the two of them were having some sort of debate about the whole thing. “It is not merely a matter of locating Morgana’s half of the amulet and reuniting it with Aethelbore’s half.”
“We still have not searched the family vault to locate Aethelbore’s half at any rate,” Waldorf cut in as Dunstan silently took his seat by his cousin’s side.
“We still do not specifically know the location of the vault within the castle,” Lady Muriel pointed out.
“I’m certain it is there somewhere,” Lady Kat said, leaning to the side and pretending she was not delivering a bit of her bacon to Napoleon, who was, undoubtedly, under the table. “All of the records and diaries we have discovered state that the amulet has been in the vault, largely untouched, since Aethelbore’s time.”
“We should search for the vault before we attempt to locate Morgana’s grave,” Lady Muriel argued.
The discussion around which to search for first, Morgana’s grave or the vault and Aethelbore’s half of the amulet, took up another five minutes as more of the family arrived and took their places around the table.
Carys came in with the last of them, assisting Lord Gerald to his place at the head of the table. She glanced briefly at Dunstan, and as soon as their eyes met, they both smiled. Warmth spilled through Dunstan, and the blush that came to Carys’s face was unmistakable.
It was terrible. To Dunstan, it felt as though every good, calm feeling he’d ever had when spending time with his friend was in dire danger of being tainted and corrupted into the harshness and ridicule that Charlotte had always thrown at him during their short marriage. He felt as though he needed to wage war to keep the precious thing he and Carys had from being destroyed by the disappointment of marriage.
“I am more worried about tragedies that might befall the guests at the ball tonight than anything that may or may not have happened in the past, do you not agree, Dunstan?” Alden asked, pulling Dunstan’s thoughts away from Carys.
“Hmm?” Dunstan hummed before catching up to the conversation. “Oh, yes. I must confess that I am anxious about this evening.”
“All will be well,” Lawrence said, reaching for his wife’s hand on the table and smiling adoringly at her. “The curse would not dare show its face in a castle that is, at present, so filled with the deepest sort of love.”
A quick hush fell over the table. Lawrence and Lady Minerva continued to gaze adoringly at each other, but it was not at all lost on Dunstan that the greater part of the rest of the family shifted their looks between Dunstan and Carys.
Dunstan pretended to ignore them all as he spread jam on his toast, which did not taste as delightful as he hoped it one once he bit into it.
Conversation resumed, and Dunstan attempted not to hear any of it, but he could not help but hear Lady Kat saying, “I know. The best way to accomplish the other half of the requirements to break the curse would be for Lord Dunstan to marry a local woman.” She smiled at Carys, who had retreated to the sideboard.
“Why do you think so, my love?” Waldorf asked.
Lady Kat shrugged. “Surely, with so many generations having passed since the time of Morgana and Aethelbore, the Weatherby bloodline has diffused into the local population. Morgana had a child, did she not?”
“She did,” Lady Minerva answered. “And that son had several children.”
“So you see?” Lady Kat said with a shrug. “The Weatherby name might have died out, but as men so often forget, that does not mean that the bloodline has disappeared. It may very well have continued through the female line. So there is a fair chance that if Lord Dunstan were to marry a local, he would stumble into marrying a direct descendant of Morgana.”
More and more of the family glanced either at him or Carys with grins and knowing looks. Dunstan, however, did not share in or appreciate the joke.
“I can tolerate this no more,” he said, pushing his chair back noisily and standing. He threw his serviette onto his plate, then stared around at his family before saying, “Enough. I know you mean well, but this has become a cruel joke that is wounding more people than you know.”
“Oh, Dunstan, I am sorry,” Lady Minerva said. She was the only one at the table who looked even a little sheepish, however.
“It would not kill you to marry again,” Cedric said carefully.
“It might,” Dunstan said, stepping around his chair so that he could get away from the table. “You do not know how deeply Charlotte wounded me. You do not know the agony of being cut to shreds every day by a woman who has no regard for you whatsoever and who married you to rise up in the world, only to be disappointed. You cannot imagine the shame of said wife publicly fleeing with her lover and making a spectacle of her cuckolded husband. I would not wish that sort of mortification on anyone, and I cannot bear the thought of circumstances destroying the closest friendship—”
He stopped there, knowing he’d said too much. Half his family looked penitent now, but the rest clearly wished to argue the point with him. They likely thought him foolish for failing to trust himself, his feelings, and most importantly, Carys. But they did not understand his scars or the fear of hurting the person he held most dear in the world by chaining her to those scars.
He took a deep breath, chastising himself for making a scene so early in a day that was bound to be fraught with strain for them all.
“Forgive me,” he said, nodding to the table in general. “I know you mean well, but I cannot…I simply cannot.”
He nodded again, then turned and marched out of the room.
Sounds of murmuring followed him, but he made no attempt to ascertain what his family were saying about him.
Unfortunately, those murmurs were not the only thing that followed him.
“Dunstan,” Carys’s plaintive voice sounded in the hall behind him as he strode away.
He froze, stiffened, then turned to face his friend.
Carys closed the gap between them quickly. Her hands were clasped in front of her, like she was wringing them, and she wore a look of painful solemnity.
“I apologize for my family’s meddling,” he told her straight off. “They are behaving abominably. You do not deserve to be the object of their teasing.”
“Neither do you,” Carys said softly once they were close.
She glanced around, then touched his sleeve and drew him into the small parlor nearby.
“I think we should keep away from each other for the rest of the yuletide season,” she said once the two of them were alone.
Those words felt like an arrow in Dunstan’s heart. He wanted to rage and rail against them. He wanted to pull Carys into his arms and kiss her the way he should have in the rain the other day.
All of those feelings not only felt inappropriate and wrong, they set his teeth on edge and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He’d been that passionate about Charlotte when they’d first met. He had not been lying to his family when he’d expressed how wounded his late wife had left him, nor had he been exaggerating when he’d said how desperately he did not want to hurt the woman he now cared for so much.
“I agree,” he breathed out, though more parts of him than not absolutely did not agree. “My family does not understand the nature or importance of our friendship,” he continued.
“They do not,” Carys agreed, nodding. Her eyes shone with bittersweet affection, and if Dunstan did not know better, he would have thought she was near tears.
“It is better for us both if we throw all of our efforts into ensuring no disasters befall the guests who will be arriving for the ball tonight,” Dunstan went on. “I do not trust the curse to spare them all.”
“Indeed,” Carys agreed. She drew in a breath as if forcing herself to think about something other than the emotions that had her in their grip. “We will have to be vigilant tonight to ensure that everyone returns to their beds safely when the ball is done.”
Hearing the word “bed” from Carys’s lips nearly made Dunstan swoon.
“I fear my family will cause as many problems as they attempt to resolve,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“They mean well,” Carys said quietly, the distress and longing returning to her expression. “They merely want you to be happy.”
“And you as well,” Dunstan said, reaching for her without thinking of it. “You are as much a part of this family as anyone.”
Carys smiled, and only then did he realize he had his hands on her. He dropped his arms at once and cleared his throat.
Carys’s smile vanished.
Dunstan’s heart nearly broke.
“So we are in agreement?” Carys asked, her voice shaking. “We will keep our distance from each other until after the family has all returned to their own estates in the new year?”
“Yes, I think it’s best,” Dunstan agreed with a nod.
The two of them stood there, staring at each other, for a very long moment.
Everything within Dunstan pushed him to contradict the vow they’d just made and to cling to Carys and never let her go.
He cleared his throat again, then took a step back.
“I should rejoin the family and turn their conversation to ways we can all preserve ourselves and Godwin Castle this evening,” he said.
“And I should resume work on preparations for the guests,” Carys said, stepping back as well. “There is so much to do.”
“Yes,” Dunstan said.
That was it. The two of them continued to stand there, drinking in the sight of each other until the point Dunstan could bear it no more.
He turned sharply, then fled the parlor like the curse itself was chasing him.