Duke's Folly Read online

  A haughty reply came back at him. 'The king will see no one without prior notice.'

  'Ah, but is it not the custom of the islands that no traveller in need of lodgings for the night should be turned away?'

  Perry watched as they put their corn-coloured heads together again, as if discussing what to do, and a moment later they set off to row towards him. He jumped down from his horse and handed the reins to his groom.

  'Take the horses and enter by the bridge, Wragg. I will join you presently.'

  His groom rode off, still muttering under his breath, and Perry made his way to the jetty. He stepped onto it gingerly. It seemed solid enough. As he waited for the little craft to approach he was able to see its occupants more clearly. The boy rowing looked to be fourteen or fifteen, the other boy a few years younger. The rower turned his head to address him.

  'We must know your name, sir, and your business, if you please, before we take you across.'

  'Peregrine Wyre, at your service, and my business…well, I told you, I am merely a weary traveller in need of hospitality.' He tapped his pocket. ‘Don't worry, 'I can pay my way.'

  'It is sixpence for the crossing,' declared the younger boy, before being shushed by his companion: Perry felt sure they must be brothers, for they looked so alike.

  'That's a very fair price,' he said. 'Sixpence is yours, once we reach the island.'

  They brought the boat close to the small jetty and held it firm while Perry climbed in.

  'Thank you.' He sat down facing the boys, saying as they set off again, 'Perhaps you will tell me to whom I am indebted for this service?'

  The youngest boy inclined his head and said regally, 'I am Prince Armand of Hyndmarsh, and this is my brother, Prince Hugh.'

  'And your father is King, er…?'

  'King Paul, of course.'

  'And will King Paul grant me an audience, do you think?'

  Armand said darkly, 'That will be for Princess Sophie to decide.'

  'Our sister,' explained Hugh, puffing a little as he pulled on the oars. 'She keeps house for us.'

  They had reached the island by this time and Perry scrambled out, hunting in his purse for the promised sixpence while the boys tied up their craft at a jetty only slightly larger than its twin on the far bank. Hugh looked a little embarrassed when Perry held out the coin, but his little brother had no such qualms about accepting payment for their efforts.

  Perry grinned at him. 'Well, Prince, will you take me to see the King now?'

  'Princess Sophie shall decide your fate, sir,' declared Armand. 'We shall take you to her, but first you must give us a moment to collect our weapons.'

  Perry waited while they picked up the wooden swords and two garishly painted shields from the ground. They led him towards the door in the south wall, past the kitchen garden with neat rows of vegetables and even a few fruit trees. On the far side of the narrow strip of land was a high hedge which he guessed might lead to a shrubbery. At the southern tip of the island he could see a hen coop and what looked like a pigsty. Everything looked neat and tidy, but his approval was tempered by the thought that the gardens had been lovingly tended, and his tenant might not wish to move out.

  The boys led their guest to the oak door set into the thick wall and Perry found himself in a narrow passage, the dark panelling polished and smelling of beeswax, transporting him back to his childhood visits to the castle. Even after so many years he remembered the doors on one side led to the kitchens and servants' quarters, while a curtained archway on the other was the entrance to a grand hall. When Perry followed the boys into the hall he was surprised to see how little it had changed, a suit of armour standing beside the huge stone fireplace and the walls adorned with shields and weapons of an earlier time.

  He remembered the chill, too, and was glad they were moving through the hall to one of the small parlours beyond. The door was open and he could see a young woman was standing by the table, arranging flowers in a vase. Her back was to them and she did not hear them approach, but the mass of golden hair curled about her head told Perry immediately that she must be related to his escort and as he stepped through the door he spoke without thinking.

  'And this must be Princess Sophie.'

  She looked round quickly, a faint blush painting her cheeks. He recognised her immediately. It was the girl who had jumped down from the tree. He was about to make some teasing remark when she caught his gaze. Perry found himself looking into a pair of large, sky-blue eyes framed by long dark lashes and suddenly he felt the world rock.

  He had seen many attractive women in his time, so it was difficult to know why she had such an effect on him. She was not classically beautiful, her complexion was tanned from too much exposure to the sun and her fair hair curled wildly around her head rather than being tamed into fashionably smooth ringlets, her nose had a tendency to tilt upwards and her mouth was not the little rosebud so admired by poets, but as she looked at him, a soft smile trembling on her lips, he thought it eminently kissable.

  'Oh dear, what have my brothers been saying to you?'

  Her voice was low and melodic with a hint of laughter and Perry waited, wanting her to say more, but Hugh stepped forward.

  'This is Mr Wyre, Sophie. He wishes to see Papa.'

  'We met yesterday.' The words came out in a rush and Perry cursed himself for behaving like an awkward schoolboy. He struggled to regain his composure and smiled at her. 'You had just rescued your cockerel from the tree.'

  She blushed then, but the laughter was still in her eyes. 'Do you believe now that it was our cockerel I had in the cloth? If you are still unsure I will take you to see him, we have penned him in the empty coop at the end of the garden until we can take him to market again next week.'

  He grinned at her. 'So it was not some wild animal poached from the Cullenmore estates?'

  'As if anyone would dare.' Hugh gave a little snort of disgust. 'Mr Grieves would take great pleasure in hauling them up before the magistrate.'

  'He is the land agent who looks after everything here on behalf of the duke,' Sophie explained. 'We do not want to give him any excuse to call more than necessary.'

  'You do not like him?'

  Her hand fluttered at Perry's question. 'We have very little to do with him. But enough of that. The boys say you wish to see our father, Mr Wyre.'

  'Yes. If it is not inconvenient.' He added hastily, 'I knew this castle as a boy, you see.'

  He hoped he had not given himself away, but no one questioned when and how he might have visited Hyndmarsh. Sophie merely nodded.

  'I will go to Papa now and ask if he is free to meet with you. He is working, you see, on a history of France during the Terror.'

  Ah, so it was highly probable that this was the tenant installed by his grandfather, but Perry could think of no way to ask this, without giving himself away. Sophie hurried off and Hugh politely invited their guest to sit down.

  'Thank you,' he said, choosing a chair by the table. 'A history of France. Is your father a Frenchman, perhaps?'

  'Yes,' answered Armand, his eyes shining. 'He escaped from prison only days before they were going to chop off his head.'

  'He is a nobleman and a scholar,' added Hugh, more adult and less bloodthirsty than his brother. 'He came to England in ninety-two and settled in Duke's Folly a couple of years later, with the help of his friends.'

  'He had married Mama by then and we were all born here,' put in Armand. 'Mama was an earl's daughter.'

  'Was?' Perry could not help the question. 'I beg your pardon, I should not have asked―'

  Hugh shrugged. 'Mama died five years ago.'

  'I am very sorry.'

  The boy brushed it aside. 'Thank you. We do very well with Sophie to look after us.'

  His tone was brusque, but Perry could forgive it, guessing he had suffered more from the loss of a parent than his younger brother.

  Sophie came back in. 'Papa says he is happy to see you, Mr Wyre. I will take you to him.'
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br />   'And Mr Wyre's servant will be in the yard,' said Armand. 'Should we have Owen show him to the kitchen?'

  Perry had forgotten all about Wragg and he said now, 'If you could, he is perfectly well mannered, I assure you.'

  Armand giggled.

  'The boys will do it now,' said Sophie. 'Take Mr Wyre's servant to the kitchens and ask Joan to look after him.' When the boys had hurried away she looked at Perry. 'I will take you to Papa. We could go through the house, but it is quicker if we go outside.'

  Perry followed her back across the hall and out of the main door. He could see now how the accommodation was built against the castle walls, leaving a small courtyard where a few hens scratched at the dirt.

  'Are they good layers?' he asked, wanting to hear her voice again.

  'Why, yes. We grow most of our own food here and are almost self-sufficient. Each year we buy in a pig to fatten, too.'

  'Very commendable.'

  'It is necessary,' was her dry retort.

  Of course, thought Perry. An émigré would have very little to live on, possibly a small pension from his friends. It was most likely that his grandfather had provided him with this place rent-free. He must ask Rafford about it. He had not given up his thoughts of having the castle as his bolthole and wondered if the family might be more comfortable in another property. A wry smile tugged at his mouth when he thought of the boys, they would not wish to give up the castle, he was sure of that!

  He saw Hugh and Armand helping Wragg to lead the horses into the stables on one side of the gatehouse, but Sophie was taking him in another direction, to a door in the south east tower.

  'Papa likes to work up on the top floor,' she explained. 'The views are quite stunning and he is less likely to be disturbed by whatever is going on in the house.'

  Perry tried to listen, but he was distracted by the glimpses of a neat ankle as she preceded him up the spiral staircase. Yesterday he had thought her little more than a child, but now he knew she was a young woman. Armand had said they had all been born here, so she could not be more than one-and-twenty, although her assurance and demeanour made her seem older. He was aware of a wish to learn more of Princess Sophie.

  Sophie made her way up the stairs, so conscious of the man following her that her spine tingled. When she had first seen him in the parlour, hat in hand, his dark hair tousled by the wind, and that attractive smile lighting his lean face, she had thought him the embodiment of a dream. Nonsense, of course, it was merely that they had so few visitors. She wondered who he was, why he had come, but no doubt Papa would tell her, in good time. She knocked, then pushed open the door to the tower room.

  'Papa, I have brought Mr Wyre to see you.' She stepped back to let their guest enter and as he stepped forward to greet her father she took the opportunity to study him a little more. He was taller than Papa and his coat looked as if it had been moulded to his broad shoulders and narrow hips. She let her eyes stray to the long, powerful legs encased in serviceable buckskins and top boots. A sportsman, she decided, rather than a scholar, and not a poor one. Even her inexperienced eye could see the superior quality of his clothes.

  'I hope you will forgive the intrusion,' he was saying in his deep, friendly voice. 'And you have the advantage of me, for I do not yet know your name, monsieur.' He paused. 'Or should I say your Majesty?'

  Sophie gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

  'Oh heavens, I never thought! Do not tell me the boys told you Papa was King Paul of Hyndmarsh.'

  'They did indeed.' He looked at her then, his eyes alight with laughter, but there was no malice, only understanding. 'I pray you will not be too cross with them, I confess I played along with their game.'

  'Ah, they are full of mischief, my sons.' To her relief, Papa was chuckling. 'I am Paul d'Albert Coutras, monsieur. What can I do for you?'

  Subject to her father's gently enquiring scrutiny, Mr Wyre looked nonplussed. 'Why, nothing. I fear I am imposing upon you quite shamefully, Monsieur Coutras. I was in the area and remembered seeing this house when I was a young boy.'

  'Ah, je comprends. It is just the home to appeal to a child, non?'

  'And not only to children. Have you lived here long, monsieur?'

  'Mais oui, it is some twenty years since a good friend brought me here.'

  He gestured to Mr Wyre to sit down and Sophie knew he would welcome the opportunity to talk. She went to the door.

  'I will send up refreshments, Papa.'

  She felt again the warmth of the stranger's smile before she whisked herself out of the room and closed the door. Papa would be happy for an hour or so, telling his guest how he had been spirited out of prison and brought to England, where his friends had provided a small pension for him, and how, later, the Duke of Cullenmore had given him the castle to live in. She was sure he would tell the stranger how he had fallen in love with an earl's daughter and married her, and although he would be sad when he explained how she had died of a fever some years ago, it would at least distract him for a while from his history, where he daily revisited the grief of losing so many friends and relatives in the Terror.

  And so it proved. She did not see Mr Wyre again, but she learned that her father had personally shown him out at the end of his visit, and when Papa joined them for dinner that evening he was more animated than she had seen him for a long time.

  'Your visitor has done you good, Papa,' she told him, carving thin slices from the ham in front of her.

  'Indeed it has, ma chère. Mr Wyre is a sensible man. Intelligent, too, and well educated. We talked on many subjects. I hoped he might stay to dinner, but he is engaged this evening.'

  'Oh, that is a pity,' said Hugh. 'I spent some time talking about horses with his man. Mr Wyre was riding the most beautiful bay mare, and if he had come back I might have been able to persuade him to let me try her out. Not that I do not like Hercules, but you must own, Papa, that a Welsh cob is nothing compared to a hunter.'

  'You should be thankful we keep anything at all that you can ride,' retorted Sophie.

  Normally she did not mind the fact that they had only the one horse. Hercules was capable of pulling their gig whenever they needed to go into town and he also provided a suitable mount for them all to ride, but somehow having Mr Wyre at the castle had put her all on edge and emphasised their straitened circumstances.

  'You may yet have your chance, my son, if you can impress Mr Wyre with your competence. He has agreed to dine here tomorrow.'

  Sophie froze.

  'He is c-coming to dinner? Here? Oh heavens, what shall we serve him?' She stopped carving. She had hoped to make the ham last again for another meal, but a gentleman would expect at least three courses. And despite his plain attire, Mr Wyre was most definitely a gentleman.

  'Doucement, Sophie, Mr Wyre knows we are not rich and will not expect to dine like royalty.' Papa waved his fork at her and smiled. 'You are a resourceful housekeeper, my dear, I am sure you will find something suitable for our guest.'

  'And I have the sixpence he paid us to row him across the lake,' offered Armand. 'You can have that to go to the market, if you like.'

  Sophie looked at her little brother's eager face and felt a twinge of guilt. Papa provided for them more than adequately and she was very proud of him. He had almost lost his life in France, standing up for his principles and had made a life for himself in a strange country, bringing up his family, educating them all and making sure there was a roof over their heads and enough food for them to eat. She was ashamed of herself for wanting to appear richer than they were.

  She said, 'No, no, Armand, you and Hugh should keep your sixpence and spend it on yourselves. There is a little money left in the housekeeping to feed our guest.'

  Perry's mare clattered across the wooden bridge and broke into a canter as they followed the path back through the trees. He had spent an enjoyable couple of hours with Monsieur Coutras. The old man's story was fascinating and Perry had encouraged him to talk in order to avoid awkw
ard questions about his own life.

  'Well, I'm glad that's over,' declared Wragg, when at length they slowed to a walk. 'Never spent such a difficult morning.'

  'Did you not like the castle, then?'

  'It wasn't a case of liking anything,' retorted the groom. 'It was having to keep up the pretence that you was no more than a gentleman traveller. The older lad came out to the stables to talk to me,' he explained, when Perry raised his brows at him. 'Nice young gentleman, very polite and well mannered and knowledgeable about horses, too, which made me all the more uncomfortable to be misleading him about you. But now 'tis done and we can get on back to Cullenmore in the morning.'

  'Ah, well, no,' Perry replied. 'You see, I have accepted an invitation to dine at the castle tomorrow night.' He ignored his servant's stifled exclamation and continued, 'Monsieur Coutras invited me to eat with them tonight, but I thought it would be bad manners to appear too eager.'

  'Now why in the name of all that's holy did you agree to do that, your grace? With an early start we could've been back at Cullenmore in time for dinner tomorrow.'

  'I am in no hurry to be back at Cullenmore,' Perry retorted. He thought of the little family he had just left and smiled. 'Besides, I like Monsieur Coutras. He is good company, and the children's manners are natural and unaffected. I shall be pleased to know my tenants a little better.'

  'And the young mademoiselle?' The old retainer asked the question in a casual tone that did not fool Perry for one moment. He laughed.

  'I have not been hit by cupid's dart, Wragg, so no need for you to be anxious on that score!'

  And yet he could not forget the shock he had felt when he had first looked into her blue, blue eyes. It was all nonsense, of course. He had entered too fully into Hugh and Armand's game of make-believe and had been ready to meet a fairy princess. His name had been linked with many women over the years, sophisticated beauties from his own world who knew to a nicety how to please a man, so he was in no danger of losing his heart to a simple, country maid. Yet he had to admit she intrigued him. She kept household for her family and that had given her a certain confidence, yet she was still child enough to climb trees! Living in such an isolated position, he doubted she had had much contact with society, probably none outside Hyndmarsh.