Rain unlocked a door at the end of the hall. He despised uncertainty. Ruthlessly, he chose to have this decision made now—but he had to do it with care or she’d run back to the far north. “My steward normally has the use of a large cottage in the village. It’s designed for a family man with wife and children, one who keeps a stable so he might ride over here daily.”
“I see. It sounds a little too large for me.”
“Exactly.” He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. Tonight, she wore a scent of lavender and a sweet scent all her own that had him salivating like a damned dog. He had to remain rational and not howl, but that required forgetting Bell’s kisses and exquisite curves. That was not within the realm of possibility.
“I have pondered the problem of how to accommodate your needs. I know you wished to use your salary to pay debts. A house would require servants and upkeep just as your manor does. Besides, I dislike the idea of you living alone or riding alone.”
“I rather like the idea of living alone,” she argued. “It would be peaceful, and I would not as likely stir the ghosts.”
Of course, she argued. It was what they did. Rain was unaccustomed to ladies disagreeing with him. His sisters had grown up in Somerset. He’d gone to school and spent most of his vacations in York, learning the medical practice. He knew his sisters were argumentative, but he’d not had to deal with them to any extent until his father’s illness. Their husbands had always acted as buffer if there was any minor disagreement.
But his new steward. . . He couldn’t ignore Bell. Lust warred with impatience and concern. His molars would never survive, even though she spoke to him much as Davis once had, perhaps with a little less deference. The countess was more arrogant than his impoverished cousin.
And had a musical voice that could be singing lullabies for how little she raised it. Even her arguments aroused him. He’d always been a rational, responsible gentleman. She was turning him into a slavering animal. He needed a solution—soon.
“Nonetheless, you need servants,” Rain insisted. “The castle has plenty. You can’t afford them. And as you’re aware, feeding a stable is costly. So I’m offering this suite in substitute. It’s far from the family and should be quiet.” He lit the sconces so she could see.
He could tell she was interested, perhaps more than interested. She drew her hand over the silver-blue of the sofa situated in front of a tiled fireplace. Darker blue wing chairs flanked the sofa. A Regency-era writing desk and bookshelves occupied one corner. The women in his family had good taste—and his money to waste.
Wooing with furniture. . . he’d have to take notes.
“There is a bedchamber and bathing chamber to the left.” He gestured at a door painted with a mural of peacocks. “A second bedroom and a maid’s room is on the right.” That panel was painted with swans. “We once used this for visiting family. But my aunts are older now and prefer I visit them. And my cousins are grown. My sisters prefer their own apartments and the nursery for their infants. This sits vacant.”
“This house is immense. You could sleep royalty here.” She peered into the bedchamber on the left.
“Vicki isn’t likely to visit,” he said dryly. “The days of royal retinues needing suites are long gone, thank heavens. I’ve been told we have nearly five miles of corridors, but I’ve not attempted to measure. My family has always had architects eager to add their mark, like Teddy.”
“Five miles! I shall be able to exercise without leaving the house.” She wandered into the bedchamber, out of sight.
Rain raised his voice slightly, unwilling to watch her in juxtaposition with a bed unless he could act on it. “The only reason the suite is in good repair is that my sisters and aunts like decorating. Like Teddy’s studio, it has large windows. These overlook the rose gardens, I believe.”
“Modern fixtures,” she said admiringly from the washroom. “You could ensconce your favorite aunts in here when they grow old and feeble.”
Rainford snorted at the thought. “Keep in mind that the aunts on the paternal side who grew up here are Malcolms. They have huge families, as well as occupations that keep them busy. I assure you they do not need it.” Neither did his uncles by marriage, some of whom were Ives and would go berserk confined in this femininity.
She reappeared to cross the parlor to the maid’s room. “I’ve been sharing a maid with the other ladies. I don’t know what I would do with one all my own. But I’m sure one would love this charming space.”
“Once my sisters have gone home, we’ll have maids to spare. My sisters let their servants off for the holidays, knowing we have extra they can share. If you could see out the window at this hour, you’d realize this suite is at the very end of the north wing, directly over your office. You need only go down the back stairs to be there, if you don’t mind using the servants’ door. The guest stairs are back at the intersection with the main block of the house.”
She swirled around to confront him, her hands crossed in the folds of her dinner gown. “And what do you want in return for this luxury?”
The incident last night had not vanished with daylight. Their uncanny attraction and kisses had to be on her mind as well as his. He’d not been able to think of anything else all day.
But his motives were. . . mostly. . . honorable. “I ask nothing. You requested a private space when you arrived. I considered Davis’s cottage but concluded that would worry me enormously. I’d forgotten about this wing. It’s so very far from the rest of the house that it’s just not used. So I had the servants take a look. They deemed it habitable.”
She nodded but continued to watch him expectantly. “So you’ve found a compromise that works for both of us, thank you. But why bring me here now? It could have waited until your guests were gone and the staff a little less overworked.”
How did she manage to look so defiant and delectable at the same time? “Unless you have some idea of what is causing the odd activities below, I thought you might be more comfortable out of the way. In the interest of experimentation, I’d hoped we might see if the ghosts followed you.”
She looked rightfully wary but seemed to accept that. “Wise, thank you. I’ve never had a poltergeist follow me around, but your ghosts are persistent.”
“Poltergeist?” Relieved that he didn’t have to explain himself more, at least this minute, Rainford followed the path of enlightenment.
“A fetch that can move objects, like the tray and the chandelier. I hadn’t yet proved the slamming doors are supernatural, but after this evening, it seems your resident haunt has chosen to present herself. It would be nice to know if your grandmother is behind the activity or something else.” She crossed the parlor to look outside the windows.
He knew it was too dark to see, but like moth to flame, he followed her. “You think there might be others?”
She turned abruptly. “I do not experiment with haunts. I am not fanciful, like your sisters. I am a practical person and prefer logic and order. Bookkeeping and ghosts don’t correlate. I have read about manifestations, of course. One must study one’s gift. My gift does not enlighten me as others do. It is singularly useless.”
“Your ability to communicate with the supernatural is only useless if you do not use it.” They’d reached the point where Rain had told his sister he refused to go. But after this evening, what choice did he have? If she could help his father. . .
Bell sighed and let the drapery fall back over the window. “I do not know how to hold a séance. I think it unwise to even try while you have guests. But I will talk with your sisters, if you wish. I do not mean to be intractable. I appreciate all you’ve done for me. I simply dislike disappointing you and your family—or worse yet, somehow harming them.”
“Let my family make their own decisions. It is you who concerns me. If there is any chance that a spirit will cause you harm. . .” She was possibly endangering herself by volunteering to experiment for his father’s sake. He did not know of a single woman
so generous.
Rain couldn’t bear it any longer. He took this courageous, unselfish woman in his arms, savored her soft curves, the scent of honey and lavender, the reality that was Bell. Not his steward, not Lady Craigmore, not the countess—just Bell, the woman he wanted beyond all reason.
She didn’t protest his action but turned her face up to him, revealing an expression almost as desperate as his own. “This is what I need. I need you.”
Bell feared a spirit had possessed her for her to say such a thing, but the words were truth. The marquess had steadfastly kept his distance, offered her heart’s desire, requested nothing in return. . . And she’d felt his loneliness and hunger and despair. How could she not respond with her own honesty?
His embrace broke through the armor of prim efficiency that had guarded her soft heart for so long. She needed distance to maintain her shield, but Rain destroyed any chance of that. His kiss, when it came, melted any further hope of saving herself.
She couldn’t pretend this was a dream. Rainford’s mouth on hers was hot and demanding, and she now knew exactly what he wanted. When she parted her lips to let him in, he crushed her so close, she could feel that part of him she’d seen in his bath. She’d read the books. She wasn’t entirely innocent.
She was just unprepared. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she clung to him, desiring him, wanting what he wanted, knowing they couldn’t have it.
Finally, she had to pull away and bury her face against his cravat, letting her tears stain its spotlessness.
He didn’t press her. He stroked her back, held her close, and didn’t protest her inconsistency. “I know,” was all he said.
“You should find a new steward,” she told him, burying the words in his chest. “This will never work.”
“Let us take one day at a time. I think you were sent here for a reason. Let us explore that first. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Shall I keep my distance?” His voice was hoarse and sounded as if it had been torn from the depths of hell.
She shook her head uncertainly. “Not if a bond between us is necessary to save your father. I know that’s why we’re here, that it is what you want even more than you want me. We are both in untenable positions.”
“Don’t ever believe I don’t want you!” He kissed her hair. “But I refuse to take advantage of ghostly pressure or the circumstances. We need to think clearly about what is best.”
Bell laughed ruefully. “Which is probably why neither of us will ever marry until we’re old and gray.”
He grimaced. “The price of responsibility, I fear. Perhaps we should just resign ourselves to Teddy holding the purse strings. We could open the house to tours to pay the bills,” he added with unusual wryness.
“You have a sense of humor. You should display it more often.” She pushed away, wiping at her eyes.
“I’ve not had much need of it until now. You give me hope I didn’t have before, which makes it easier to laugh at myself.” He offered his handkerchief.
She wiped her eyes and gave him a watery smile in return. “Hope is rather pleasant, isn’t it? Until it is dashed, of course. I so want to help you and your father. I really want to believe my gift isn’t useless. But nothing I’ve read has told me how to speak to spirits who insist on invading my head. Other people simply see or hear ghosts. None speak of being possessed. It’s excruciatingly unsettling.”
“And startling, which isn’t good for your health, understood.” He offered his arm. “Let me take you back to your room. You may speak with my sisters when you are ready. Until then, we will pretend all is well and go about our business as usual.”
“Easy to say,” she muttered darkly, feeling his tension as well as her own the instant she took his arm.
“Teddy tells me I must flatter your eyes, tell you they’re like the moon on a starlit night or some such flummery. Harry thinks I should talk of roses and archery.” He locked the suite behind them. “What topic must we discuss to be easy?”
Bell chuckled and wiped at her eye. “Which maid will you assign me? I rather like the one with the protruding teeth. She tells me all the gossip and does not complain about my short hair.”
“Fine then, you shall have Button. And then do we discuss the price of oats? I would woo you with words, if I knew the right ones.”
“You know full well you needn’t woo me at all. You’d need to heal me and make me not a Malcolm. I don’t think you’re omnipotent, however. So let us talk of how we might listen to ghosts and heal your father, since they seem to think that’s at least possible.”
Bell thought she’d just consented to marry him if she were whole. Since that wouldn’t happen, she didn’t worry about words said in the heat of the moment. Rainford had an entire family depending on his stability. She wouldn’t wish him harm.
She’d simply leave when the improbable proved impossible, as it always did.
Fifteen
“Marry her, Rain. If you lose her, I’ll never forgive you.” Estelle flung her needlework at him. It fell ineffectively on Rain’s desk, scattering the papers he was signing.
Estelle was the spokesperson for his other sisters, probably because she had some talent for smelling untruths and evasions. He should be grateful all his sisters weren’t in here, nattering. But if he, not his father, now had the responsibility for them, he had to listen. It just sometimes took some translation.
“If you’re speaking of Lady Craigmore, she won’t have me. She says it is only delaying the inevitable, and I must find someone who can give me a son.” Rain hated explaining himself, but this was truly a family matter, not just his decision. “I thought you were here to ask for an increase in your allowance.”
“With another child coming, we must consider the expense of schooling. And if Teddy will be controlling the purse strings in the future, we need to do so now.” She dropped into the old leather chair facing his desk and pulled out a handkerchief to dab at her eyes.
“Not you, too?” He knew from experience that tears came with gestation, so he did not berate her for that ploy.
She nodded. “We are all healthy and produce prodigious amounts of children. You will, too, Rain. One might be a son.”
He had six nieces and two nephews. “I calculate my odds at one in four. I have five years after marriage to produce an heir. I know math is not your strong point, but I think even you see the problem.”
“Then empty the trust. Give the monies to us so there is nothing left for Teddy to fritter.” She sounded as desperate as Rain felt.
“If that were an option, do you think I’d not have already done it? Go talk to your husband, Estelle. I’ve explained it to all of them. The trust is made up of investments that produce income meant to support the estates as well as family. If I sell them, the money must be reinvested inside the trust, not dispensed at will. I can direct where the income is spent, but I can’t increase expenditures unless the income from the investments increases.”
“Which is why you should have married a wealthy woman long ago. A wife’s dowry could support the estates.” She sniffled into her handkerchief. “I am not completely dense.”
Rain shrugged uncomfortably. “That would have only given Teddy more to waste in the long term.”
“What happens if we shoot Teddy?” Estelle rose, sounding more angry than tearful now.
“You go to jail. And a distant cousin we barely know inherits. I believe he lives in New York now. Your husband can support you, Estelle. You will not starve.”
She harrumphed and swept out.
Leaving him feeling like a cad.
Rain could hear the clamor of more guests departing. He’d deliberately not mentioned Bell’s acquiescence to the séance so his sisters wouldn’t rush all their guests into the cold. But the mysteriously swinging chandelier, flying trays, and shrieking had spooked several. He should make note of which were the more lily-livered ladies and choose among the more courageous who remained.
It was Bell the ghosts h
aunted, and she had given no hint of fleeing.
As if on cue, more doors slammed, accompanied by another ghastly shriek. Half the gentlemen in the castle were hunting the source of the shrieks. After they’d muffled the parrot and monkeys in the cellar, and the noise continued, they were convinced it had to do with chandelier chains. The servants were lowering the ones in the dining room for cleaning, allowing his maintenance people to examine the hardware, just in case. Rain tried to count how many more fixtures there might be but couldn’t. His family had a penchant for dramatic lighting.
Just as Rain settled in to read the invoices Bell had left for him to sign, another rap on his door intruded. Groaning, he decided to assume Bell had verified all these figures correctly and just sign off on them.
“Yes?” He put as much frost into his voice as he could to discourage lingering.
Franklin, his butler, entered. “Pardon, my lord, but Mr. Winchester has requested a stage in the drawing room for this evening’s entertainment.”
They had a makeshift platform for theatrical productions in the attics. Rain glared. “And?”
“The only place it can be set up is beneath the crystal chandelier your grandmother brought with her when she married the old duke.”
Rain considered his large vocabulary of mostly unused epithets and bit his tongue, as always. His grandmother—the Norwegian witch—had brought a chandelier with her? “Can it be removed before this evening?”
“No, my lord, I fear not. It is old and must be taken apart in pieces.”
It held candles, so they’d not used it for lighting in years, but Franklin would not be bothering him if it were not a challenge for the staff.
“Fine. I’ll speak to Teddy. I doubt the chain on that antique is our problem, but there’s no sense in tempting fate.”
The butler nodded in relief. “My thought also, my lord, thank you.”
Dropping crystal chandeliers on Teddy and his new lover might be entertaining, but Rain really didn’t hate his cousin. Teddy had simply never learned responsibility, had no reason to learn, and his temperament wasn’t suited to learning.
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