Free The Guardian Duke: A Forgotten Castles Novel by Jamie Carie Page B

the light of a sliver of moon. There. They were unlocked. Thank God.
    He let himself in and lit a candle. Sitting down at the desk, he pulled forth a blank sheet of stationery and wrote out quick instructions. He folded the paper and was about to ring for a servant when he saw a small stack of post on one corner of his desk. In all the preparations for the ball, he'd forgotten to check his mail.
    He flipped through it, making piles according to importance. And then he saw it. A letter from Holy Island. A letter from the impossible, audacious creature that was his ward. His heart gave a leap of pleasure and his lips broke into a smile. He flipped it over and lifted the seal, bringing the candle closer to read. What was his lovely little hoyden up to now?
    My Dear Duke,
    I don't know where to begin to explain all the difficulties this poor creature (that being myself), bereft of parents and alone in the world except for the guidance of your fine self, has so suddenly experienced. Just this morning I stepped out of my castle to more disasters. Have I told you about the island's castle and monastery? No? Dear sir, there are hardly two stones sitting next to each other to cover our heads. The ravages of time and hostiles have left us bereft of all but an occasional wall and a crumbling roof to keep us dry. Why, just the other day I had to hire two three men to repair another horrid hole in the roof. The constant dripping and leaking has us all at wit's end. What I really need are some workmen, and sir, you must know that a good carpenter, mason, and blacksmith will cost a great deal. I have so much work for them to do! I do lose sleep over it. Tossing and turning in my bed and wondering how I will ever make ends meet on a girl's allowance. Am I not the mistress now? Do I not deserve the funds to make this place finally habitable? I implore you, Your Grace, to reconsider the allotment of the fortune my parents left me. While they did not seem to have much regard for this lonely island, (they were rarely home long enough to feel the discomforts of leaky stone), I have been here and am yet here, making my future and way in this world the best I can. There is so much need. Shall I list some more of it for you?
    The wool from the sheep could be better traded and made into cloth for our cold winters. I can't remember the last time I had a warm cloak and dress. I'm still wearing fashions from the last decade, I can assure you. My servants run about in rags, mostly. Mr. Meade can surely testify to the state of my household staff.
    The well. We began digging a new one last month but were unsuccessful and the lake is so very far. Think of it, my dear duke, fresh water . . . who can put a price on that?
    My servants are equally in need of provisions—food, clothing, and other necessities. My poor housekeeper is so aged that I have been cleaning the castle myself. I know your shock must be great at hearing that and do implore you to send funds for a new maid-in-training also. Your generous allowance surely didn't take into account all the souls for which I am responsible. As ward to the powerful Duke of St. Easton, you must want me well provisioned and accounted for.
    I leave you with one thought.
    This place has a wild, ancient beauty that is incomparable and it is my home. My parents, bless their souls, had a fleeting love for it, but I will live here my whole life as the good Lord wills. I would like, with your help, to make it all that it was meant to be. It might cost a small fortune, but I beg you to give me the time to make it what I have imagined it could be.
    The time and the money.
    Your most faithful servant,
    Alexandria Featherstone
    P.S. My prayers for you are often and heartfelt. Take comfort in the fact that God's love never fails. Even in the midst of life's most harrowing trials, dear sir, you can depend on Him to see you through it. If you should wish to give me the great honor of confiding in me, know I will gladly lend you