Free Borrowed Vows by Sandra Heath Page B

with a self-serve counter, and tables and chairs that didn’t match. It smelled of coffee and confectionery, and the radio played bland music. The coffee looked undrinkable, so she got the tea, which didn’t look much better, but before sitting down she noticed an elderly woman seated at a corner table. Dressed in a neat brown suit and white frilled blouse, she was studying a newspaper crossword. The badge on her lapel announced her to be one of the castle guides.
    After a moment’s hesitation, Kathryn approached her. “Excuse me, may I have a word with you?”
    The woman looked up. “Why, yes, of course.”
    “I see you’re one of the guides, and wondered if I might ask you a few things?”
    “About the castle? Feel free to ask anything you wish.” With a charming smile, the woman indicated one of the chairs at the table.
    Kathryn sat down and then toyed nervously with her cup and saucer.
    The woman looked inquiringly at her. “What is it you wish to know?”
    “It concern’s the castle’s history.”
    “Ah. Your ancestors came from these parts?”
    “No. Well, my husband’s family came from Gloucester, but that’s not relevant. I’m actually interested in the Marchwood family at the time of Waterloo, or thereabouts.”
    “Waterloo. Now let me see, that would be Sir Philip’s time—no, I tell a lie, it was his father Sir Dane’s time! Yes, of course, what am I thinking. Sir Dane fought at Waterloo itself; he captured the cannon and brought them back here.”
    Kathryn’s pulse quickened, and her mouth was suddenly dry. There really had been a Sir Dane at the time of Waterloo? The leaflet didn’t mention that! She cleared her throat. “I, er ... Dane is an unusual name, does it run in the Marchwood family?” she asked.
    “Not really. There was another one in the fourteenth century, but that’s all as far as I know. Maybe some minor members of the family were called it, but I wouldn’t really know about that. As far as Marchwood castle is concerned, there were only two.”
    Kathryn didn’t know what to say next.
    The guide sipped her coffee. “The Waterloo Sir Dane was a very dashing and dangerous fellow, much given to pistols at dawn. He fought four duels and won them all, killing his opponent on each occasion.”
    Kathryn began to feel sick inside. Four duels? In her dream there had only been three.
    The guide went on. “But the last one left a stain on his reputation. He always used his own set of dueling pistols, and on this occasion was alleged to have tampered with the one his opponent used in order to ensure victory, and since this adversary was the younger brother of one of his previous victims, you can imagine how shocked local society was by his apparent lack of honor.”
    Kathryn was numb. The fourth opponent had been the brother of one of the previous ones? Who else could it be but Thomas Denham? But the leaflet hadn’t mentioned Thomas Denham, so how could she explain his appearance in her dream? Come to that, how could she explain knowing about the three original duels?
    The woman didn’t notice her stunned reaction. “Still, it was probably no more than Sir Dane deserved, for he played the devil once too often. Getting away with three duels was amazing, but to emerge victorious from a fourth was tantamount to a miracle. There had to be a penalty, albeit a relatively minor inconvenience to someone like him. Although, on reflection, I suppose having one’s honor called into question was probably a serious business in those days.” The woman drew a long breath. “Devil or not, he was very handsome. From his portrait, I’d say he’d give any present-day heartthrob a run for his money. The original tall, dark, and handsome, that was Sir Dane.”
    Kathryn had to ask about the last duel. “Who was his final opponent?” she asked, knowing in her heart what the answer would be.
    “A gentleman by the name of Thomas Denham, of Denham Hall, just to the north of Gloucester. The duel