Page 46 of The Ice Queen
Caroline made a mental note to keep scarce about the castle for the rest of the morning. Harry was the last person she wished to spend time with, especially after his boorish behavior of the previous evening.
“Lady Margaret is a treasure. She certainly has a soft spot for you,” she said.
“She is one of the most important people in my life. After my mother abandoned us, Lady Margaret was the one who took up the reins of running the castle. I was more than happy when she and my father fell in love. She gifted him with a calm mind and a sense of joy,” he said.
As he spoke about his late father’s mistress, Caroline could see the look of happiness on Julian’s face. He genuinely cared for her.
The wind had picked up from the previous day and it now bit through her cloak. She shivered. Winter was fast approaching and she feared it would be as harsh as the previous year.
“You look cold. Perhaps we should seek out somewhere warm. I have just the place,” he said.
“That would be nice, thank you.”
He led her toward the lake, and as they drew near, Caroline caught sight of a small stone cottage nestled within the trees close to the lake. From the top of the grounds, the cottage had been well hidden from view.
Julian opened the door, and stood back to allow Caroline to go first. As she stepped across the threshold, she was greeted with the welcome warmth of a well-tended fire. The room held a few items of furniture. A pair of chairs sat either side of the small but effective fireplace. There was a table, which had four mismatched chairs, and a bed in the corner. To the right of the fireplace hung a single frame, its painting turned to face the wall.
“This was my father’s retreat for many years, especially when I was young and he and my mother were at war. He used to sleep down here, hence the bed. I like the privacy it affords me, so I have the staff keep the fire going and the liquor supply maintained,” he said.
“It is a lovely spot. I can see why you would want to come here,” she replied.
He poured them both a glass of brandy and handed one to Caroline. “A little early in the morning, but it does take the chill off. Please, sit,” he said.
After taking a seat by the fire, her gaze returned to the painting on the wall. Why would anyone hang a painting and then have it turned so it could not be seen?
Julian crossed to the painting and took it down. He handed it to Caroline before taking the seat opposite her. “I cannot abide the sight of it, but have not yet mustered the courage to throw it on the fire.”
The painting was a likeness of Julian’s mother. She was reclining on a long daybed, clad in a black shoulder less gown. Around her neck was a magnificent necklace. The length of it was studded with rubies and diamonds. The largest ruby had been fashioned into the center of a diamond-encrusted crucifix and hung as a pendant.
“That is a stunning necklace,” said Caroline.
“It is the Crusader Ruby. The most important heirloom of the Newhall estate—a priceless jewel handed down through the generations,” replied Julian.
There were many magnificent pieces of jewelry in the Duke of Strathmore’s collection, but Caroline could not see any of them holding a candle to the Crusader Ruby. “Why is it called the Crusader Ruby?”
“One of my forebears brought the main ruby back from the holy land during the crusades. He had it fashioned into the necklace, intending to give it to the King of France, but his wife took a fancy to it and so he kept it,” he replied.
“I had no idea that the Newhall line went back that far,” she said.
“Yes, its one of the oldest titles in England.”
He stood and took the painting from her, placing it back face-forward to the wall.
“I would love to see the real Crusader Ruby sometime,” said Caroline.
Julian huffed. “So, would I. The countess took it with her when she left my father. He used to come down here and stare at the painting for hours. I am not sure what he craved most: her or the necklace. After he died, I turned it so it faced the wall. I don’t want to look at her arrogant smile even if it is just a likeness.”
Caroline now understood the bitterness in Julian’s voice. Not only had his mother abandoned him, but she had taken an ancient relic with her that rightly belonged to him.
She sipped at her brandy, then set the glass down on the floor. Julian had only spoken in snatches about his mother. And, having had the misfortune to meet the countess, Caroline could fill in many of the gaps of his childhood. His father, however, was still a mystery.
“Tell me about your father. Were you close?” she asked.
He paused for a moment. She sensed he was choosing his words carefully before he spoke. “It was an odd relationship. When I was young, I blamed him for my mother hating me. She always said it was his fault that our home was such an unhappy place. And I believed her. If I had not been born, my mother would not have hated me. I dare you to find sense with that piece of childish logic. It was only after she finally left my father that he and I discovered we actually liked one another.”
There was an underlying pain in his words. She had been raised by two loving parents, who had a strong marriage, never once having to question the bonds of paternal affection.
“So, you had your father’s love?”
