Page 59 of Duke of Gold
Peggy strolled down the hallway, her thoughts pleasantly adrift. It wasn’t until she neared the towering oak shelf that her steps faltered. She paused, tilting her head as her gaze fell on a faint gap between the edge of the shelf and the wall.
Frowning, she stepped closer, brushing her gloved fingers along the seam where the wood didn’t quite meet the plaster. A sliver of darkness peeked through—a gap that hinted at something beyond. Peggy pressed her palms lightly against the edge, and it shifted just enough to confirm her suspicion. There was a door behind it.
Her heart quickened. The butler’s strange behavior from the other day came rushing back, and she straightened, her lipspressing into a determined line. Turning sharply, she beckoned to a pair of passing footmen.
“You there,” she called. “Come here at once.”
The footmen exchanged a hesitant glance but obeyed, their steps quickening as they approached.
“I need you to move this shelf,” Peggy said, gesturing toward the towering piece of furniture.
The men hesitated, their brows furrowing. “Move it, Your Grace?” one of them asked, clearly uncertain. “It’s quite large, and His Grace?—”
“I am quite aware of its size,” Peggy interrupted briskly, though her tone remained calm. “And as for His Grace, I shall take full responsibility for the matter.”
One of the men shifted uncomfortably, his hands twitching at his sides. Peggy felt a flicker of doubt, a momentary urge to summon Morgan and ask him directly what lay behind the door. But she dismissed the thought just as quickly.He would never tell me. Not yet,she thought, a resolute firmness settling over her. Whatever was hidden here, she needed to find out for herself.
“Move the shelf,” she repeated, her tone firm but not unkind.
After a brief pause, the footmen obeyed, bracing themselves as they gripped the heavy wood. With a few grunts of effort, thetowering shelf began to inch forward, revealing a concealed door behind it. Peggy stepped back, her breath catching as the full view came into sight.
The door creaked slightly as she pushed it open, revealing a cavernous space beyond. Peggy stepped inside, her gaze lifting in awe as she took in the room. It was a grand library, its soaring shelves reaching from floor to ceiling, each one stocked with rows upon rows of books. A faint smell of aged leather and parchment hung in the air, and the soft light filtering through narrow windows gave the space a timeless quality.
Peggy turned slowly, her gloved fingertips brushing over the nearest shelf.Why would the household tell me there was no library in the house?she wondered. The very idea seemed absurd. She moved further into the room, her eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary, but all she found was a space filled with books and history—nothing that justified such secrecy.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps, and she turned just as Mrs. Hallewell appeared in the doorway. The housekeeper’s face paled visibly as her eyes darted around the room.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Hallewell said, her voice unusually sharp, “this is no place for you.”
Peggy blinked, taken aback by the woman’s uncharacteristic tone. “No place for me? It’s merely a library.”
Mrs. Hallewell stepped further into the room, her hands wringing together nervously. “It is not meant to be disturbed,” she said, her eyes flickering toward the footmen. “You two—leave us at once.”
The footmen, all too eager to escape the tension in the air, bowed quickly and departed. Peggy, however, remained rooted in place, her brow furrowing as she turned back to Mrs. Hallewell.
“Why was this room hidden from me?” Peggy demanded. “What reason could there be to conceal something so innocuous?”
Before Mrs. Hallewell could respond, a deeper, sharper voice cut through the air.
“Margaret.”
Peggy’s breath hitched as Morgan appeared in the doorway, his dark gaze sweeping over the scene. His face was a mask of barely controlled fury, and the tension in his frame was palpable.
“Out,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “All of you.”
Mrs. Hallewell quickly scurried past him without a word, but Peggy remained where she stood, her chin lifting defiantly. “Morgan, I?—”
“Not another word,” he snapped, stepping further into the room. “You had no business here.”
Peggy stood her ground, her chin lifting as a flicker of defiance sparked in her eyes. “I am your wife, Morgan,” she said, her voice steady despite the ache blooming in her chest. “This castle is my home too. I have every right to know what lies within its walls.”
Morgan’s jaw tightened, and his gaze turned colder. “You do not understand.”
“Then make me understand!” she demanded, taking a step closer. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as her frustration swelled. “I am not some interloper or stranger, Morgan. I am your wife. You owe me that much.”
“I owe you nothing,” he said sharply, the words holding a bitterness that struck her like a blow. He turned away from her, his movements brusque, and ran a hand through his hair. “This room, this... place—it is not for you.”
Peggy’s chest constricted, her breath catching as she fought to keep her composure. “Why?” she asked, her voice softening but no less insistent. “What could possibly warrant such secrecy? What is it you’re so determined to keep from me?”
