don’t know. Before I can say anything definitive I’ll have to investigate further.’ She swallowed. ‘I’d need your consent for that.’
He didn’t say anything. And he was looking less than impressed at the idea of her poking around his family’s home and history.
He was going to say no, wasn’t he? She could see it in his face. He was going to tell his grandfather it was too much trouble, too much inconvenience—to protect that lovely old man from the ‘upset’, as he put it. A flash of anger detonated inside her. Her older sister liked to boss people around that way, make their decisions for them. That kind of behaviour had always driven her crazy. She wasn’t going to back down. She didn’t care what he thought. The world had a right to know if this was Crowbridge’s window.
‘There’s some minor damage in the corner, and what repair attempts have been made are very poor. If this window turns out to be what I think it might be I could restore it for you. Free of charge. Payment in kind for letting me investigate further. If I’m right, the PR value for the castle—and your family—would be great. And more publicity means more visitors.’
Then she laid down her ace. ‘And, of course, your grandfather would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that every inch of the window has been investigated and documented.’ She breathed in quickly. ‘I’m stuck here for at least a couple of days anyway, and you said you wanted something concrete for Bertie. Well, this kind of work would be about as concrete as you could get.’
He folded his arms. ‘What would this research involve?’
He said it as if it was a dirty word. Faith’s spine straightened. Any beginnings of the truce they’d been beginning to build were gone. Obviously ripped away when he’d had what must have been a What were you thinking? moment in the split second before his lips had come close to hers. Just like that they were on opposite sides of the battlefield again.
She lifted her chin, even though inside she was cringing. Why couldn’t it have been her who’d pulled away? Now she just felt pathetic and rejected and he had the moral high ground. Of course he wouldn’t go around kissing an ordinary girl like her. She should have known that. Should have backed off first. But she’d been too excited about the window to care…
Well, she was still excited about the window.
Only now she’d gained a much-needed sense of perspective, too. Good. She’d needed that. Thank you, Marcus Huntington, Earl Westerham, and future eighth Duke of Hadsborough. He had actually done her a favour.
It didn’t mean she was going to curtsey or anything.
‘Faith tells me she’s offered to repair the window free,’ his grandfather said over dinner that evening.
Not free, Marcus thought. There was a price. It just didn’t involve money.
He picked up his soup spoon. ‘Surely proper research will take more than the couple of days you’ll be stuck here?’ he asked.
A little bit of her bread roll seemed to get stuck in her throat. ‘A couple of days will tell me if it’s worth pursuing,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Then, if you give me the go-ahead to repair, I guess it’d take a couple of weeks. I’d finish in time for the Carol Service, I promise you. And I won’t intrude on your hospitality any further once the roads are clear. I can commute from the cottage in Whitstable.’
His grandfather made a dismissive noise, letting them know what he thought about that. ‘Nonsense. You’ll stay here. It’s a complete waste of time and petrol to do otherwise.’
Faith opened her mouth and closed it again. Marcus could tell from the determined look on her face she wasn’t happy with that idea, but she was sensible enough to leave that battle for another day. There was no talking to his grandfather when he remembered he was a duke after all, and started issuing orders.
It was clear the old man wasn’t about to have anyone spoil his fun, and he seemed quite taken with their unexpected guest.
And so are you, seeing as you almost kissed her in the chapel.
Ah, but he’d stopped himself in time. And just as well. Because he wasn’t going to choose with his heart again. Love was a see-saw, and Marcus was going to make damn sure he ended up high in the air next time. He would be the one who held the power and could walk away if he wanted to. He’d do what his family had done for generations—choose a sensible girl from a suitable family who would bring some stability and support to the Huntington line.
It was just hard to remember that when Faith McKinnon fixed him with those dark brown eyes of hers and stared at him, peeling him layer by layer, making him feel she could see right inside him. Worse still, he could feel his reluctance to push her away growing. And that was dangerous. Without those walls of his in place he was likely to do something stupid. They were all that stopped him repeating the whole Amanda fiasco.
He reached for the pepper and ground a liberal amount on his soup. ‘So you’re saying that this research of yours won’t disrupt us?’
Her chin tipped up a notch and she looked him in the eye. ‘Less than the snow. I promise you that.’
Touché.
While he didn’t appreciate her defiance, he admired her pluck. Not many people challenged him outright on anything these days.
‘Are you going to take the window away?’ his grandfather asked, echoing what Marcus had been hoping.
Faith shook her head. ‘I need to be close to the whole window to do my research—not just the bit of it I’m repairing. But I own most of the equipment I’d need, and I can order in supplies quite easily when the snow clears. The first phase will be observation and documentation anyway.’ She shot him a hopeful glance. ‘I was wondering if you had a space where I can work on the bottom pane? I’d only need a room with a trestle table and decent light.’
Marcus’s shoulders stiffened. Unfortunately they had the perfect spot.
Bertie knew it, too. He grinned. ‘Of course. Then what?’
‘Then I’ll snip the old lead away and clean the glass before putting it back together.’
Bertie nodded seriously. ‘You will keep your eyes peeled, won’t you? For anything unusual?’
She swallowed and glanced quickly at Marcus. He shot her a warning look. She lowered her eyelids slightly at him, before turning her attention back to his grandfather and acting as if their little exchange had never happened.
‘Of course I will investigate every area of the window carefully,’ she said, her voice losing its characteristic briskness, ‘but none of the usual rules apply, and I haven’t seen writing of any kind.’
Bertie’s face fell. He folded his napkin and placed it on the table.
She reached over and covered her hand with his. ‘I promise I will try to keep an open mind,’ she added, ‘but only if you promise to do the same.’
He nodded, and then smiled at her gently. ‘Thank you, Faith. If anyone can unravel this secret it will be you.’
She withdrew her hand and sat back in her chair. ‘I’ll do my best, Bertie,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘but you have to face the possibility that what you’re looking for may not be there.’
‘Holy cow!’ Faith said.
‘Quite,’ was Marcus’s dry response.
She’d never seen so much junk in her life. She’d thought Gram’s attic was bad. But Gram and Grandpa had only lived in their house fifty years. The Huntingtons had lived at Hadsborough for more than four hundred, and it seemed that no one had ever, ever thrown anything away. They’d