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“How are Calum and the glassworks?”
Her face softened. I knew she treated the island’s master glassblower as a son the same way she did me.
“He’s fine, yeah. Been working hard on the ornaments line, but that’s all slowed down now this close to Christmas. I expect it’ll be nice for him to take it easy for a couple of weeks now. Maybe he can show you a thing or two if you’re here for a while, but you’ll have to ask him. He’s got a man here now.”
I thought of the forty-five-year-old artisan who was as gruff and impenetrable as the north wind. “A man? What kind of man?”
She chuckled and turned to me with a look of slight embarrassment. “No, Lior. Not that kind of man. Holy hell, boy. I only meant a student of sorts. Someone studying the glass. The man is here for a couple of weeks, and Calum has taken him on. A cute one, that. Name of Felix. He’s American, like your mother.”
“Where’s he staying?” I asked. Unease began to swirl in my gut as I thought about an unknown person on the island during my holiday from real life.
“Shh, calm yourself. The kid is as quiet and timid as a mouse, you’ll see. Nothing to fear there. He’s staying in the carriage house apartment, only comes into the main house to study the glass, you know? And to share a meal if there’s one to be had.”
I let out a breath. “Okay, good.”
Later, as I made my way through the quiet hall toward the royal wing of the house where my bedroom lay, I thought about how much I wished I could simply hide away at Gadleigh forever. I couldn’t, of course, but the idea of hiding took root, reminding me of my favorite nook in the castle.
After accompanying Arthur to my room and leaving him to unpack, I stepped to a panel in the side of the wide archway leading to my bathroom. The bathroom had originally been an antechamber of sorts, but when my great-grandfather had visited Gadleigh on a tour of his royal estates in the early twentieth century, he had demanded the royal apartments all be outfitted with the most modern water facilities of the time. The result was fewer rooms in the royal wings but grandiose washrooms for each bedroom. There wasn’t a visit I made to Gadleigh Castle when I didn’t thank my ancestor for his thoughtful upgrades.
I pushed the panel sideways until the open space was wide enough for me to fit through. Once in the space between the walls, I slid the panel back in place. It wasn’t necessary to sneak to my hidden study, of course. But it was a habit born of years of trying to avoid nannies and tutors.
I made my way carefully through the cobwebbed corridors, down a simple and overly narrow spiral staircase, and into a cozy secret room I’d always referred to as the treasury. The space was clean, and wood for a fire was set and ready for me in the small fireplace. Once I started the kindling with a box of long matches on the mantel, I settled back in the overstuffed chair tucked in the corner nearest the warmth of the early flames. As the fire grew higher, the light began to catch the colored glass around the room as hundreds of years of Gadleigh glass baubles spun and sparkled from where they hung along the low, wooden-paneled ceiling.
If Gadleigh Castle was, in some way, the love of my life, the treasury room was its very heart.
Chapter 4
Felix
I’d scheduled my trip to include a few days in Edinburgh to explore the St. Giles Cathedral. I thought the famous Burne-Jones window was impressive, but it was nothing like what awaited me at Gadleigh.
In a word, the glass at Gadleigh was breathtaking. Even after three days on the island my head was still spinning. I just couldn’t believe I was actually here, surrounded by the infamous stained glass I’d been studying for years. It was both wonderful and overwhelming.
The caretaker, Mari, had taken pity on me the day before and taken me under her wing, feeding me breakfast while indulging my questions about the castle and its history.
I learned that the castle had a total of four hundred and forty-four rooms, and starting today I intended to explore them all.
It was harder than I expected, especially given how many rooms contained glassworks that I couldn’t resist taking my time to examine. There were hidden gems among the antique furnishings in almost every room I came across. I’d barely even scratched the surface by the time the sun began to sink into the sea hours later.
Warm bands of orange and yellow light filtered through the large, clear leaded glass panes of the room I was in. It was a small formal salon, with red textured wallpaper on all four walls and gilt-edged furniture organized in a central social cluster. Red and gold curtains hung heavy from large dowels, and thick, silky ropes held them back with long tassels.
