Page 32 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

Finally, he shook himself from his trance and straightened, moving away from her. The moment he did, he took his warmth with him. A weak smile creased his lips.

“You made good progress today.”

“I did. I think I can get a little more done—”

“It’s nearly dusk,” he said, interrupting her.

“Oh.”

She breathed the word as disappointment flickered through her. She wasn’t ready to stop translating. She folded the parchment with her scribbled handwriting in half and placed it in the center of the pages as a marker, then flipped the book closed.

“The carriage is waiting for you outside,” he said.

“Thank you.” She scooped the book off the table and cradled it against her chest. “Given that it’s nearly dark, I wonder if your carriage could take me as far as the gates of Hawthorne?”

He gave her a long, quiet look as though contemplating whether to agree. He nodded, “Yes, of course. You wouldn’t want to be walking home alone in the dark.”

She blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Yes, thank you.”

Leopold made a motion to the door. “May I escort you to the carriage?”

Her gaze lingered on his handsome face. “I’d like that.”

She pulled on her lace gloves, then her bonnet, tying it under her chin. As she headed for the door, he fell in step beside her. They walked in silence from the library down the long hallway with the oil paintings with their watchful eyes following them. From there, he led her to the front door of the castle where Dickens stiffly waited with his head held high.

“Will you be returning tomorrow?” Leopold asked, eyeing the book she still cradled against her chest.

“I hope to,” she said. “But things are…unsettled and I may need to remain at Hawthorne.”

“Unsettled? Is everything all right?”

She flashed a smile, realizing she might have said too much. “Yes, of course, it’s just that my father was called back to Port Leclare on business and he looks to me to run the household while he’s away.”

“Ah,” he said. “I didn’t realize your father was in Port Leclare.”

“He’s a merchant,” she heard herself say. And before she could stop the words from flowing, she said, “A few of his ships were destroyed.”

Concern creased his face. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

She wanted to smack her forehead for revealing that information to this almost stranger. She didn’t know much about Leopold. She certainly should not be telling him their private family business.

“I should be going, your grace.” She dipped a curtsy and turned toward the door.

As she did, Dickens pulled it open. She headed into the balmy night air and climbed in the carriage, relieved to be putting distance between the dashing Leopold Thornhurst, his ghostly castle, and his stern-faced butler.

Leopold watched her bolt through the door as if her dress was on fire and climb into the waiting carriage. The footman closed the door with a snap behind her. He stepped across the threshold of the door and made a motion to the driver to catch the man’s attention.

“Take her to Hawthorne Hall. Make sure she arrives safely.”

“As you say, prince.” He gave a nod as he took up the reins.

He winced at the title but was hopeful Bella didn’t hear. The driver turned the carriage and away they went, clattering down the gravel drive toward the road that led them off the castle grounds.

Dickens was at his side then. His stoic façade firmly in place on his face.

“Why did she call youyour grace?” he asked.

Leopold pressed his lips together, trying to decide how to answer. She called him that because of his own stubbornness that refused to tell her the truth about him. That he was a prince. That the blood running through his veins was from an ancient royal line that was all but extinct. All except him.

---