Rosalie was in awe. She had never seen anything like this. But as she turned to take it all in, her eyes fell on one part of the castle that was decidedly less beautiful than the rest.
The west wing of the castle was black. From a distance, it was hard to tell exactly what had made the honey-colored bricks black, but she suspected it was some kind of mold. The bricks were blackened, the glass gone from the windows, and the structure of the facade was in tatters.
So that is the damage that is going to take a great deal of time and money to fix.
She glanced again at her husband, and she saw that he was also staring at the darkened wing of the house. If she’d thought his expression was unhappy before, it was nothing compared to how it was now. A look of such venomous anger had come over him that for a moment, she was afraid of him.
He’s undoubtedly just worried about all the repairs it is going to take to fix the castle,she told herself.That and how expensive it is going to be.
Steeling herself, she walked over to him and gently put a hand on his arm. Despite the care she took not to frighten him, he still flinched at her touch and then turned to stare at her.
“What troubles you, Duke?” she asked softly, trying hard to keep her voice calm. It felt a bit like talking to a horse when it was skittish. She didn’t want to spook him, and after seeing the scars on his back the night before, she knew he had reason to be spooked by people who weren’t gentle with him.
The Duke, however, was clearly in no mood to be soothed. He frowned down at her and then shook himself free of her hand.
“Nothing troubles me,” he snapped. “I’m merely looking forward to a nice hot bath and meal.”
“Is that the section of the castle that is in most need of repair?” she asked, nodding towards the blackened wing. “Is it mold? My cousin always said mold was the hardest to get rid of in a house.”
“It isn’t mold,” he said flatly. “And I would ask you not to go anywhere near the west wing while you are here. Everywhere else you can go freely, but that area is dangerous. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, but…” Rosalie wasn’t sure how much information she could get out of him now, but she was curious. “What happened there?”
The Duke gritted his jaw. “And I would also ask you not to ask me questions about it.”
Rosalie tried to remain calm, but the Duke’s foul temper and rudeness grated against her. She wasn’t the type of woman tocalmly let herself be talked down to, and her sympathy for the Duke would only last so long.
“I won’t go to the west wing,” she said with forced calm, “but I can’t promise I won’t ask questions. This is my home too, now, and I will be responsible for organizing many of the renovations, so I need to be kept informed about the state of the house. If you won’t speak to me, then I will have to ask the housekeeper.”
“Fine, do that,” the Duke snapped. “Now I must go and check in with my steward.”
And with that he stalked away, leaving Rosalie fuming in the drive.
I cannot be around Rosalie right now.
The thought pounded through Nathan’s head, drowning out all others. It was like a dream beating repeatedly through. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Rosalie’s comfort or support. In fact, the feel of her hand on his arm had been so reassuring, so comforting, that a lump had risen in his throat. But he couldn’t let himself feel such emotions. Leaning on someone else for support would only make it harder for him to be self-sufficient when things inevitably went south.
There was another reason he couldn’t be around Rosalie right now, though, and this one was infinitely more terrifying: he didn’t trust himself in her presence.
The grief and pain were mounting inside of him like they always did when he returned to the castle and saw the west wing, and he didn’t want to lash out at her. It had happened in the past when his memories of Carramere Castle had so overwhelmed him that he had taken out his rage at the person closest to him.
That’s how I got this horrible nickname to begin with.
But the last thing he wanted Rosalie to see was him as the Beast of Carramere.
As Nathan approached the castle, the doors opened, and the butler came out, his expression anxious.
“Your Grace,” Mr. Thomas said, bowing deeply, “we have been reopening the house these past few days, as you instructed, but we ran into several problems, and we were not expecting you to arrive for a few more days.”
“Yes, we made haste from London,” Nathan replied, glad of the distraction that had come in the form of his butler. “I didn’t want to waste any time on the road.”
“Very good, very good,” Mr. Thomas said, nodding even as his frazzled expression said otherwise. “The only thing is that weare still opening the castle; it is not up to snuff yet for the new Duchess.”
“Don’t worry about the Duchess,” Nathan assured. “She’s tougher than she looks.”
This was true; any daughter of Jebediah Crampton had to be tough to have survived this long.
“I’m sure she is,” the butler said, looking positively alarmed, “but it isn’t just that… The damage to the house is more severe than it was when last you were here. By the Grace of God, the floors and walls have held up in the west wing, but they are unstable, and the wood is rotting where it was burned. The beams are also weak, and it’s a miracle that the whole wing hasn’t collapsed.”
