Romancing the Duke (Castles Ever After #1)(38)

“How do they mean well, showing up unannounced this early in the morning? What on earth can they want of you?”

“Just a visit, most likely. Perhaps a quick tour of the castle. But I won’t know for certain until I go ask, will I?”

She called down to Sir Wendell. “Good Sir Wendell, please be at ease. I’ll come thither anon.”

He reached for her. “Wait. You can’t let all those fancy-dress fools tromp through my castle. Thithering and anon-ing. I’m not having it, Goodnight.”

“It’s my castle. And I’m not inviting them for a house party, but I will show a modicum of hospitality toward my guests.”

“These are not guests. They’re uninvited intruders. Don’t ask them anything. Tell them to go.” He gestured in the direction of the dwindling, yet still-massive, heap of correspondence. “If you mean to claim this as your castle, there’s a great deal of work to be done.”

“Work will have to wait.” She shrugged away from him, moving toward the front entrance. “They’ve come all this distance. I can’t turn them away.”

“Certainly you can. It’s bad enough that they pester you with letters and questions. Draw a line, Goodnight. Go out there and tell them you’re a grown woman who can sling about the word ‘cock’ with the ease of a courtesan, and you don’t appreciate unannounced visits. Then invite them to sod off, the bunch of clanking idiots. If you won’t, I’ll do it.”

“No.” Panicked, Izzy put a hand to his chest, stopping him in his paces. “Your Grace, please. I won’t invite them inside the castle if you don’t like. I’ll send them away as quickly as I can. Just promise me you’ll stay upstairs, out of sight. Let me deal with this. Trust me when I tell you, you don’t want these people to see your face.”

Ransom clenched his jaw.

So. His wrecked face wasn’t as disgusting as he’d been thinking all these months.

It was worse.

Apparently, he was such a horrifying monster, he needed to be locked away in the tower, lest he frighten the tenderhearted fools currently filling his courtyard.

Well. At least now he knew.

And today, his terrifying looks would be put to some use. He was going to clear out these intruders himself.

He pushed past her and exited the great hall, heading for the exterior stairs.

“Wait. Ransom, please.”

He ignored her, striding forward to stand on the topmost step. The crowd hushed at once. He heard a few gasps, and not all of them feminine, either.

Good.

“This is my castle.” His voice rang from the stones. “Rouse yourselves and begone.”

He swept his vision over the assembled inanity. The young ladies at the edges were a colorful assortment of blurs. Their gowns trailed behind them on the ground. The “knights” were a clash of metallic glints and silver flares.

Any moment now, they’d all run away. Exit through the archway like a rainbow pouring through a sieve. Any moment now.

Moments later, he was still waiting. They didn’t run away.

At last, the one called Sir Wendell found his voice. “All knights, salute!”

A bang echoed through the courtyard, as if they’d all thumped their fists against their armored chests in unison.

“All knights, kneel.”

With a wince-inducing clanking, the knights went down on one knee.

“Our liege. We are honored.”

What . . . the . . . devil.

They were supposed to run away screaming. Instead, they were kneeling and saluting. Ransom couldn’t understand it. Just what was going on here?

Miss Goodnight joined him, but she didn’t offer any explanation. “Sir Wendell, how can we be of help this morn?”

“We are on our way to the annual North Regional tournament, Miss Goodnight. Someone informed us of your presence in the neighborhood, and we couldn’t resist stopping by. We had . . . no idea.”

No idea of what, Ransom wondered. No idea of decorum? No idea of common sense?

“We’ll be on our way,” Sir Wendell promised. “But might we trouble you for so long as it takes to rest and water our horses?”

“Oh, please do visit the village!” Miss Pelham joined them on the step, breathless. She must have thrown on her frock and dashed down the stairs. As usual, she wouldn’t miss any chance to promote the goods and services of the parish.

“It’s just a half mile down the road,” she said. “That way. The stables here at the castle are small, but the inn in Woolington can offer you fresh water, hay. There’s a smith, if you need him. And a pub that serves a fine breakfast. The village would be most happy for your custom.”

Sir Wendell bowed. “An excellent suggestion. Thank you, Miss . . .”

“Pelham. Miss Abigail Pelham. My father is the local vicar.”

Yes, indeed, Ransom silently concurred. Thank you, Miss Pelham. By this point, he didn’t care who convinced these people to go. Just so long as they went.

As the knights gathered and made plans to depart, one of the young ladies approached them on the stairs. “Miss Goodnight, please. While the men take the horses to the village, might we stay here? We would so love to have a visit with you. Perhaps a chance to see your castle?”

“I’m afraid the castle isn’t fit for visitors just yet,” Miss Goodnight answered quickly, and sweetly. “But perhaps you’d be so good as to join me for a walk in the castle park? There are some romantic-looking ruins I’ve been yearning to explore.”