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“I bet so,” I told her. “What other creatures do you think live in those depths? Fairies, maybe? Or maybe they have their own version of the Loch Ness monster.”
I held up my hands to mime a monster, making Sofia giggle and squeal.
“There are several species of pike, perch, bream, and eels in Windermere Lake,” interrupted Gibson. “There have also been reports of catfish, carp, and chub. Certainly no mermaids.”
Sofia frowned. “No, there are definitely mermaids in that lake. My mommy said so. And you can tell by the rainbow at the end. That’s where mermaids live.”
“There are none,” Gibson argued firmly as he steered around another curve. “The rainbow is caused by the combination of light and rain. It is an illusion, nothing more.”
I shook my head, hiding a smile when he caught my glance in the rearview mirror. The man had no idea what he was getting into.
But before Sofia could argue back with him about mermaid mythology, rainbows, or anything else the landscape indicated, Gibson swung the car down another drive and approached a large gate of swirling black iron.
“Welcome to Corbray Hall, miss,” he droned as the gate swung open.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t with my mouth hanging wide open.
A pea gravel drive approximately the length of Fifth Avenue stretched in front of us, lined with tall beech trees. On either side lay the grounds of an expansive blooming garden containing topiaries, winding paths, vine-wrapped arches, and too many mysterious entrances to potentially secret passageways to count. The drive gradually climbed to the top of a hill where an enormous manor towered over the garden scape on the entrance side and overlooked a view of the entire countryside on the other. I could see three lakes just from the car, and we weren’t even at the top of the property yet.
Majestic didn’t even cover it.
“Mama,” Sofia whispered, clearly no longer interested in mermaids. “It’s a castle.” Her eyes bugged. “Daddy’s aprince.”
“It’s Corbray Hall.” Gibson’s tone was utterly uncompromising. “And your father is certainlynota prince. Castles are fortified against a common enemy. There is a ruin of Norland Castle on the other side of the estate, but Corbray Hall was built well after Cumbria was settled. It is a civilized place.”
“Not Camelot,” I murmured with a smile, rememberingMonty Python. “A silly place.”
“What’s that, miss?” Gibson’s tone was clearly irked.
I cleared my throat. “Er, nothing. Go on, please.”
“As I was saying, there once was a castle here, as this land has been the seat of the Duke of Kendal since the time of William the Conqueror.”
I swallowed. “The seat? So…there is more than one…er…place at the table?”
“Residences?” Gibson sniffed with his large nose. “Of course. His Grace owned four others, including Parkvale House in London, a hunting lodge in Scotland, a second country estate in York, and the house in Bath to winter. Corbray Hall, however, is the jewel of the dukedom and has been since it was built in the late eighteenth century. People come from all around to tour it on Friday afternoons. It is a Georgian masterpiece.”
I swallowed. That was…a lot. Xavier and his family owned at least five priceless pieces of property and some of the oldest holdings in England.
I barely owned my handbag.
Wait. Lived. Owned. Past tense. Gibson clearly wasn’t talking about Xavier but about his father.
“And the current, er, His Grace?” I stumbled. “Where does he, ah, winter?” I couldn’t quite get my mouth around using seasons like verbs.
“The current duke,” Gibson said in a tone that practically spat derision, “does not privy the staff with his whereabouts. He has not been seen in Kendal since the passing of the last duke.”
“What the heck does that mean?” Sofia demanded. “My daddy is the duke. How can there be a past one?”
Gibson’s beady eyes landed on Sofia through the rearview. “Yes,” he said in a tone that really sounded like “no.”
Gibson pulled around a circular driveway of the same pea gravel up to the manor’s front entrance, where a pair of double doors carved with lion heads opened to reveal Elsie, holding her ever-present clipboard and wearing her faithful penny loafers. I grinned. In the midst of all this grandeur and Gibson’s tour, Elsie’s no-nonsense person was a welcome sight.
“Elsie!” Sofia squealed, not waiting for Gibson to walk around to open the door. She catapulted herself out of the car and sprinted across the gravel into Elsie’s waiting arms.
“Thank you for the ride, Gibson,” I told him as he opened my door for me to exit. “Er…”
He looked at me with beady eyes. “Yes, miss?”
