“I don’t think a shadow haunting a painting counts as communication.” Rain reached for one of his barbells and lifted it up and down beside his chair in vague hope that would speed Alicia from the room.
“Well, if the play doesn’t work any better, we’ll have the séance. Shall we hold it in Father’s rooms?”
“It will be late.” But the ducal suite would be the safest place for keeping out wandering guests and servants.
“We can be quiet. His sitting room is large, with plenty of chairs. Should I bring the spirit board?”
“Ask Lady Craigmore. I cannot imagine she’ll approve. She dislikes contrivance.” Or he thought she did. When it came right down to it, he knew more about how he felt than what she thought. He damned well needed more time. . .
Which had always been the problem. He liked to have thorough knowledge of a subject before making any decision. It wasn’t possible to have thorough knowledge of a woman—and he preferred them mysterious anyway. Probably because he wasn’t interested in marrying them. Forcing his jaw to unclench, he changed the weight to his other hand.
Alicia bounced a delighted curtsy and fled, leaving Rain as angry with himself as he was with the spirits inhabiting his damned house.
He had hoped to hold the séance while Alicia and Teddy entertained the guests with their theatrics. His married sisters occasionally managed to be sensible. Alicia—not in a thousand years. But he couldn’t reject her plea for him to watch her play. What if she actually had found a way to communicate with the ghost?
He was about to go up to his father when he sensed Bell’s presence outside the door Alicia had not fully closed. It was as if Bell’s perfumes were meant to soothe, or perhaps just knowing that it was her calmed him. Quiet, competent Bell wouldn’t demand drama. He quit grinding his teeth, set down the weight, and came out from behind his desk.
“Come in,” he called before she could knock.
She entered hesitantly, with a puzzled frown between her eyes. “I thought I should speak with you before I speak with Lady Dalrymple. Do you know much of her?”
As if he paid attention. . . But Bell wouldn’t be here unless it was important. “Helen? Distant cousin on my father’s side?” And then he winced, vaguely recalling her place on the family tree. “Her brother is probably in line to the title, but I’d have to look to be certain in what order. We’re kin, but her family is from Dorset. We only see each other on rare occasions when we’re both in London. I’m not sure why she accepted our invitation.” Rain gestured for her to have a seat, but she shook her head.
“Tragically widowed, with one child?”
Rain nodded. “He was in India, gouging for gold like the rest of the East India Company. Elephant trampled him, I believe. Why? Is there something wrong?”
“Her daughter is about five and apparently sees ghosts. I believe she may be seeing your grandmother, but I couldn’t pry too much out of her. She says the ghost is slamming doors, hence my surmise.”
Rain leaned his hip against his desk and studied the countess’s worried expression. He was gradually learning her moods. “You’re concerned, why?”
“Well, for one, Drucilla is terrified and spends all her time weeping. And secondly, Lady Dalrymple apparently refuses to believe her, so the child has no one to whom she can turn.” Bell twisted her hands in her skirt.
Rain wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but she hadn’t given him that right. His primitive nature seldom warred with his intense discipline, but Bell. . . presented a challenge. She considered herself an employee. To keep her here, he needed to respect that designation, for a while.
He crossed his arms and resisted temptation. “Helen was a frail child. She was always considered an invalid and an oddity. I assume her intent is to protect her child from the same label. That’s difficult enough if the child can’t walk. Seeing ghosts. . .”
She nodded understanding. “I’m glad I spoke with you then. I was angry and wanted to throw my journals at her and ask why she hasn’t read up on her daughter’s gift.”
He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry. You would most likely have just slammed a book on the table in front of her.”
Bell offered a small grin that warmed him all the way to his toes.
“Well, possibly, but it might have been next to a full teacup that would slosh in her lap. I was quite upset. Has she hired good doctors to look at Drucilla’s leg? Is there nothing to be done?”
Not certain that he was happy about having one more responsibility added to his already crammed schedule, Rain wrinkled his nose and tried to remember if he’d heard anything about the child. But he tended to shut out gossip. “She has relations in London, so I would assume they had access to excellent medical care, but I’ve heard nothing. What happened to her?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only been told she’s crippled and cannot get about easily. I’ve not seen her walk. If it can be arranged, I think I’d like to move into my suite as soon as possible. It’s closer to the nursery.” She did not plead or ask but instructed, as no employee ever did.
Rain had no objection. He wanted her in that suite—where he could visit with no one knowing. He hadn’t expected it to be this easy. “I thought you preferred to stay away from children.”
She sighed. “I don’t wish to harm them. That’s not the same thing. But Drucilla is already hurting.”
“I’ll talk to the Franklins. If the maids have made up all the rooms, they might spare one to pack your trunk. It shouldn’t be a moment’s work for a footman to carry it over. Are you sure?”
She raised her chin so he could see the flash of fire in her eyes. “I am sure. I do not know what will happen at tonight’s séance. I suggest we hold it in the suite to keep the ghost from disturbing anyone in the main house.”
Damn, he’d wanted to keep her room hidden from his nosy siblings. But he also wanted to protect his father. “Alicia wants to hold it in the duke’s sitting room. You think that too dangerous? Once you show my sisters your new living quarters, you’ll never be rid of them,” he warned.
“I didn’t feel the ghost in the duke’s rooms, and yes, I think it might be dangerous. The suite should be neutral territory, don’t you think?”
“I can’t say. I have to trust you to make that choice.” He was trusting her with a great deal, and he couldn’t even say why. It frustrated him not to be the one to crush the ghost, cure his father, and maintain order in his own damned household.
It irritated him worse that he could not save his father and must rely on the supernatural, but there the dichotomy loomed. His father used unnatural abilities to help heal his patients. Rain was simply angry he didn’t have any of his own.
Bell touched his hand as if she understood. He longed to clasp her fingers with his. Instead, he kept his arms folded and waited.
“I don’t even trust myself,” she whispered. “So I follow the path of caution. The suite, after Alicia’s entertainment? Just your family?”
He nodded curtly, and she was gone, leaving the scent of summer lavender in his wintry office.
Later, when Rain entered the crowded, pre-dinner drawing room, his guests buzzed with excitement. Apparently the threat of ghosts and Alicia’s entertainment was sufficient to amuse a few dozen bored adults. Of course, in the case of his immediate family, it was a necessary distraction from the duke’s impending demise.
After consulting with his sisters concerning Drucilla’s lameness, Rainford deliberately went in search of Lady Dalrymple.
His distant cousin only resembled his family in the light color of her hair. Others might call Helen’s features delicate, but compared to his sisters, they were weak—small chin, short nose, watery blue eyes. She had some of the family height, but her frame was thin, if not half-starved.
Of course, he’d thought that of Bell when he’d first seen her, but apparently some women were made slight. He was a physician. He couldn’t stop judgin
g physical appearances in medical terms.
She jerked nervously when he appeared at her side.
“Lady Dalrymple? My sisters tell me I am remiss in not asking after your daughter.” Giving his cousin time to recover, he shook hands with the two gentlemen in her company. “Alicia hopes everyone will be attending her debut theater performance this evening. I understand Lady Pamela is a superb actress.”
Lady Dalrymple tittered uneasily. “We are all looking forward to the evening. Thank you for asking after Drucilla. She is a nervous child. I asked Lady Estelle if we could impose on her staff’s goodwill by bringing her with me. I trust the child has not been any trouble?”
“No trouble at all, that I’m aware. My sister tells me the child’s limb was injured in an accident and did not heal properly. Have you consulted a physician who works with bones? I can recommend several.”
“That is most generous, my lord.” The younger of the two gentlemen, Lawrence Nevins, spoke up. “But such an operation would be costly. Lady Dalrymple is a widow, living on a pension. Not everyone is privileged to have unlimited funds.”
Rainford smiled faintly. “Nose still out of joint from the fisticuffs, Lawrence? Or have you become an anarchist since your brother took the reins of the family fortune?”
Lady Dalrymple touched his coat sleeve. “Please, Lord Nevins was a friend of my husband’s. He’s simply being protective.”
Rain bowed politely to the lady. “And we are family. I fear I am not omniscient. Let me know if I can help. If I am busy and forget, ask my sisters. They will nag until I listen. Your daughter shouldn’t have to suffer.”
Nevins looked as if he’d like to plant him a facer, but Rain strolled away before tension could rise. Heirs to dukedoms did not engage in fisticuffs, more’s the pity. A round in the ring was exactly what he needed. Or a night in Bell’s bed, but the séance put a damper on that hope.
Rain had a good understanding of why many heirs ran wild. It was an utter bore being proper all the time. Fortunately, he had other pursuits to keep him busy, and it was his nature to maintain tight control over his thoughts and thus, his actions.
Estelle caught up with him before he could reach a friendlier group. “If you had a wife, she would have known all about Lady Dalrymple and Drucilla. I had no notion that you hadn’t heard.”
“Only a wife who cared about my family might have such information.” Rain gestured at the elegantly garbed females surreptitiously watching him from every corner. “How many of these would bother?
Estelle grimaced. “I take your point. Even I didn’t tell you about Dru. I foolishly assumed you knew. But I live in Somerset and do not normally see you every day. A wife would. . .” She glanced at the company. “Be more concerned for her own family,” she admitted with a sigh.
Unlike the countess, Rain realized. Bell noticed every detail brought to her attention, even a stranger’s child. He’d searched the room and not yet found her hiding place. “Where’s Bell?”
“She thought it best not to tempt our resident haunt by being present during Alicia’s theatrical. I assume she’s preparing for the séance instead.”
Bell wasn’t even married to him, but she put his family first. Rather than thinking of herself, she refused him because she might not bear a son in time to save his family fortune. Bell was the kind of mature, intelligent, caring woman he wished to marry.
If only he had his father’s healing ability. . . he might marry Bell. But even the duke couldn’t heal the Malcolm curse.
Rain patted his sister’s shoulder. Estelle was a strong woman, made for having babies, then bossing them around. “I’m old enough to take care of myself. You have your own family. Will it be safe for you and Salina to attend the séance? We wouldn’t want any harm to come to children not yet born.”
“Unless the hag decides to inhabit the unborn—who can’t speak—I think we’re safe. As I understand it, once a spirit chooses to be reborn, they lose themselves. She won’t want that.”
“The hag, nice way to speak of your grandmother.” Rain covered his fear with amusement. The hag had apparently thought inhabiting Bell’s womb no problem, but then, Bell spoke to spirits. Perhaps she could talk to unborn babes as well. “Just promise me you’ll leave the moment anything feels wrong.”
“Nothing ever happens. None of us are susceptible. We simply want to encourage Bell to try. I know you’ll be a good duke someday, Rain. I’m just not ready.” She hastily wiped at her eye.
“None of us are.” He squeezed her shoulder and continued on his way.
Dinner without Bell would be sawdust.
Bell dearly wished to watch Alicia’s theatrical, but caution had ruled her life for good reason. Instead of joining everyone in the music room, she finished her dinner in her new suite, then climbed to the nursery floor to check on Drucilla.
Learning the child was fast asleep should have relieved her. Unfortunately, Bell feared that meant the resident ghost was downstairs, haunting Alicia.
She took the corner stairs down to the main family floor. The enclosing walls of this staircase made her feel a little more stable.
The music room was on the public floor below. By following the gallery overlooking the entryway, she found the place where she could hear voices carry the best. Was this how the ghost felt—above and beyond any participation in real life?
Amusing herself by imagining the duke’s mother floating over him ever since her death, Bell listened for any sign of trouble. She could hear the actors emoting, although she didn’t discern the words. The audience laughed politely a time or two. They clapped enthusiastically after a musical interlude.
She should probably go back and prepare her suite for the séance, but she had utterly no idea what one did to prepare.
The actors raised their voices in feigned anger. The audience emitted squeaks of surprise. A female voice shouted. Bell clenched her fingers and prayed that Rain would call a halt if anyone was likely to be hurt.
The chandelier over the stairs began to sway.
The subtle motion did not trigger her startle reaction. Instead, Bell clutched the railing with horror while she watched the crystals rattle. And then she thought she heard more chains creaking in the distance. The marble entryway was an echo chamber that carried sound too well.
Not feeling the anxiety that usually had her toppling over, she swallowed hard and tried to think what to do. Remembering there was no fixture in the music room, she sighed in relief. The company should be safe. Should she alert the servants?
She heard men grumbling down the back hall. The smoking room didn’t have a chandelier, did it? Then she remembered the antlers hanging over the billiard table.
The lady was growing more powerful if she reached the far north wing at the same time as the main residence.
Bell had been rather hoping her remote suite might be too far for the ghost to reach, but it was only a flight up from the billiard room.
There was a small chandelier in the duke’s sitting room. Alarmed, she lifted her skirt, intending to check on him—
Frantic screams erupted in the music room, on top of popping sounds. Caught by surprise, she felt the familiar fog filling her head. . .
1001, 1000, 999, 998. . . Bell concentrated on counting backward until the fog dissipated. When she no longer felt in danger of toppling, she looked down again. No one raced screaming into the corridors.
She’d caught part of the rehearsal and knew they employed fake gunfire. Perhaps someone had just been startled—
A heavy thud, followed by more screams. But she was prepared this time and took deep breaths to resist the dizziness. Rain’s voice shouted over the rest. Rain never raised his voice. Torn between the duke and the need to dash downstairs to see if anyone was harmed—Bell hesitated in uncertainty.
The chandelier swayed wider and creaked louder.
Back stairs. She dashed around the gallery and down the corridor to the intersection with the north wing. The duke’s sui
te wasn’t far from there. She could stop. . .
The very worried Miss Damon emerged from the stairwell before Bell could reach the duke. “Drucilla is sobbing as if her heart is breaking. I cannot make out a word she is saying.”
Torn, needing to be three places at once, Bell wanted to add her screams to those below.
But screaming wouldn’t help. Praying she made the right choice, she hurried upstairs to the crying child who might hold the key to the evening’s chaos.
Seventeen
“Grab the corners and lift,” Rain shouted to the men he’d positioned around Teddy’s blamed canvas chandelier. It had been a marvel of a multi-layered kite more than a chandelier, and now it lay in a tangled web on top of Teddy, Alicia, and the hysterical actress.
As the wooden frame and layers of canvas rose, Rain ducked under it. He hadn’t dared send anyone else beneath the contraption, not to rescue his sister. He found the black rags she’d been wearing in a tangle of rope and sheets. She didn’t seem to be moving. He swore under his breath. He needed to verify nothing was broken before he dragged her out.
Using his back as brace, he held up the contraption until he could see. Alicia was face down on the floor but breathed, thank all the heavens. He murmured senseless words as he touched her neck and did a swift examination of her spine.
Grunting, she suddenly pushed up and flipped over. Wiping a loose strand of hair from her face, she glared. “Well, that was not what I’d hoped.”
“Better than two-hundred pounds of crystal.” He wanted to hug her, but he was not a demonstrative man. And he still had Teddy and the actress to locate. “Can you crawl out on your own?”
She glanced around and pointed to a man’s boots. “That should be Teddy. Lady Pamela ought to be. . .” She wrinkled her nose and peered under the folds of fabric. “Closer to the fireplace, I believe.”
The boots were already stirring.
“All the chandeliers are swinging,” someone shouted from beyond the contraption.
“Well, that ought to empty the house in the morning.” Grimly, Alicia began crawling beneath the edge Rain held up. “Maybe that’s the ghost’s intent.”
Captivating the Countess Page 15