“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.