Captivating the Countess

by Patricia Rice

  “Keep everyone in this room where it’s safe,” he ordered. “Tell the footmen to serve champagne.”

  Bell? Where was Bell? There was a small chandelier in the sitting room of her suite. And in his father’s chambers! Panic seeped over his normal calm.

  Taught since birth to give commands, Rain resorted to training now. “Have one of the servants run upstairs to check on Father and another to locate Bell.” The servants, at least, would use their sheltered stairwells, away from chandeliers.

  “Aye, aye, captain.” Alicia slipped from beneath the canvas.

  If any of the louts holding up the corners had the brains of a peahen, they’d be dismantling the contraption by now. Instead, Rain had to crawl over to be sure Teddy was conscious. Apparently, he was lying there, studying his failure, and not dead.

  “I’ll leave, just as soon as I figure out how I failed,” Teddy grumbled when Rain raised the canvas over him.

  “You’d have to figure out how a ghost sways all the chandeliers in the house at once. Help me lift this damned contraption and find Lady Pamela. She stopped shrieking, so she must be dead.” Rain could hope.

  “If she’s not calling for the removal of my head, she’s probably dead,” Teddy agreed glumly, climbing up on all fours to lift the center of his contraption on his bulky back.

  The action revealed Lady Pamela crumpled on the carpet, beating it with her fist and weeping. Rain wasn’t going near her. “Your turn, old boy. Go rescue the hysterical lady.”

  “She’s having a tantrum. Can we just leave her under here?” Despite his words, Teddy began crawling over to comfort the victim of his incompetence.

  “Your guest, not mine. I have an entire company to settle down.” Praying his cousin didn’t marry a featherhead like the lovers he chose, Rain retreated from beneath the canvas. Now that he knew everyone was alive, he pushed the frame up, gathering the folds to collapse it in the middle.

  The men holding the corners followed his example, leaving Lady Pamela and Teddy exposed and unharmed.

  Guests gathered around Rain, fretting over the reports of dangerous fixtures—the antlers in the billiard room, too? He refrained from rolling his eyes. He’d have the lot taken down.

  Leaving suggestions of earthquakes and blasts of wintery winds—which most of his guests accepted more readily than ghosts—Rain worked his way out of the room, leaving his sisters to quiet the crowd.

  The chandelier in the entry had stopped swinging. He took the back stairs anyway, two at a time. He stopped at his father’s suite first. It was early enough to find the duke sitting in his chair, reading a newspaper, and keeping an eye on the overhead fixture.

  The duke shook out the paper and folded it. “I must say, your lady has certainly increased the entertainment around here. The footman says everyone is well?”

  Rain took a steadying breath and maintained a composure he didn’t feel. “In the music room, yes. Alicia is a bit shaken. Teddy is sulking. The guests will probably flee in the morning. I am checking on those who weren’t downstairs. Why do you say ‘my lady’ did this? If you’re referring to Lady Craigmore, she wasn’t even there.”

  “I was referring to your ghost, but I suppose your new steward may be responsible for our apparition’s new strength. I am fine. You should probably look after her next.”

  Entirely Rain’s reaction. That his father understood simply proved the duke wasn’t a stupid man. Bell was a desirable female—and all too evidently another Malcolm.

  “Apparently one of the children in the nursery is seeing our ghost as well. I may need to go there next. I’ll leave an extra servant in here to run messages until this is resolved.”

  This suite was large and could house a plethora of servants without his father noticing. The duke dismissed him with a wave.

  Rain had to go to the north wing to reach Bell’s suite anyway. The nursery was only up a flight from there. Since childhood, he’d never had reason to enter the nursery. His toddling nieces and nephews were mostly indistinguishable. He admired them when his sisters presented them to him, but after that, they vanished upstairs. He supposed they’d become uncontrollable monsters at some point, but everyone went through that stage. He’d wait until they were adults to sort them out.

  Normally, he would have sent a servant except for Bell’s warning about the lame child who saw ghosts. If Drucilla presented any danger to his household, he needed to know it. Nursery maids weren’t much help when frightened. Besides, he felt guilty not knowing about the child’s accident.

  There were no chandeliers to swing in most of the rooms on the third floor and certainly not in the nursery. He knocked quietly before entering.

  Bell sat beside the fire in the classroom, rocking a sleepy child in her lap. She looked up gratefully at sight of him. “Your father?” she whispered.

  “Undisturbed. I’m not sure what Alicia’s play was meant to accomplish, but it will no doubt rid the house of most of our guests. The children?” He glanced around for a nursemaid but this was a schoolroom, not the bedroom.

  “Most of them slept through it. Only Drucilla heard. She says the ghost is angry, but she doesn’t understand more. I don’t think she’s old enough to attend a séance, but I suppose she might learn, as I never have.”

  “We don’t know such foolishness works,” he reminded her. “Should I put her back to bed?”

  She looked reluctant. “For now, I suppose. I haven’t had time to talk to her mother.”

  There was the countess speaking—born and raised to rule the lives of others. Her mother had taught her well. Rain lifted the sleeping child and let Bell lead the way.

  He’d grown up in this nursery, and she knew more of it than he did. He supposed the nursery was a woman’s territory—but Bell was his steward. She knew his ledgers as well as Davis had. She was turning his view of women as pretty ornaments on its head.

  Ornaments were safer. Bell. . . was an enigma, one that could explode in his face.

  At this moment, he couldn’t convince himself that was entirely a bad thing.

  She tucked in the child, took the arm he offered, and they slipped back to the hall. “What happened?” She waited until they were away from the nursery to ask.

  “My guess is that our resident ghost wanted our full attention and was showing off what she could do if we don’t listen.” Normally, Rain wouldn’t discuss his theory about supernatural activities, but Bell had a valid interest—and she listened without judgment. “After swinging all the chandeliers from the front to the back of the house, she dropped Teddy’s canvas one on his head—and Alicia’s and Lady Pamela’s. It was quite a climactic ending to a rather predictable play. I fear Alicia is no playwright.”

  She swayed into him for just the briefest moment, as if needing his comfort. Rain wanted to hug her, but they had to keep their heads to survive this night.

  “Alicia is accustomed to persuading people to do her bidding. One assumes she was hoping to persuade the ghost to listen to her.” A smile laced her voice as they traversed the stairs on the way to her suite. “Unless you want her discovering one of the women’s rights groups and standing on street corners, urging people to action, you’d probably best find her a charity that needs her support.”

  “You don’t support this talk of women voting?” He couldn’t contain his curiosity. Alicia as a persuader? Bell might be on to something.

  “Of course I do,” she acknowledged with serenity as they reached her suite. “And should Alicia become involved, I will aid her in any way I can. But I am not someone who stands on the front lines. I prefer working in the background, where I can do the most good.”

  He groaned, imagining Alicia on street corners and Bell printing signs and pamphlets. Rather than contemplate such a future, he opened the door of her new suite.

  His sisters hadn’t arrived, thank all that was holy. Rain led Bell inside, shut the door, and swung her into his arms.

  He needed this. He deserved this after tonight
. He applied his mouth to hers with a hunger that grew reckless when she lifted her arms to his neck and pressed herself against him.

  The key turned in the lock of its own accord.

  Bell scarcely noticed as the brass key fell out of her lock. She had the most intense, most intelligent man in her life holding her as if she were his world. Her head spun from his kisses. And the rest of her. . . wanted. She wanted so very much. . .

  She sighed in gratitude when Rain cupped her breasts. Her bodice buttoned all the way up the front, but she wore only a small corset with this old-fashioned working gown. She could feel his palms rubbing at her nipples, and desire coursed through her. Would it be so dreadful if she allowed him to. . .

  A knock rapped at the door.

  “I don’t want to stop,” he murmured huskily. “Can’t we make them go away?”

  She ran her fingers over the sandpaper of his cheek, drinking in his closeness, his hot breath, the proximity of his mouth to hers, but even as she longed to cling, she stepped back and pushed at his chest. “I may not have the stupidity to agree to a séance at another time. And your grandmother may bring the house crashing down around us if we don’t try.”

  In the light of the lamps she’d left burning, she could see Rainford’s angular jaw tighten. He had so many pressures to bear—she longed to help ease them.

  But accepting his responsibility, he gave a curt nod and turned up the sconces while she hunted for the key. The lady was making it obvious what she wanted, but one goal conflicted with the other if the nag wanted a séance.

  Fortunately, the ghost didn’t stop Bell from unlocking the door and letting in Rain’s sisters. They didn’t seem to find it odd that Rain was here first or that the door was locked. They entered, chattering, and scattered about the room to admire the furnishings and rearrange the chairs.

  Bell admired their assurance. This was their family home. They had no reason to lack confidence. Rain’s poor ex-fiancée never had a chance unless she developed a backbone overnight.

  Rain moved a heavy game table before the fire and helped arrange the chairs around it. He threw more coals on the grate and pulled out a chair for Bell while his sisters claimed their places. She could smell his shaving lotion and the male scent that was all his own. When he casually brushed her shoulder, she almost melted. She was worse than an animal in heat.

  “May I just observe?” He didn’t find a place for himself.

  “Rainford, no,” Estelle protested. “I’m sure the ghost wants all of us.”

  “I think it would be best if Rainford stays out of this for now.” Bell firmly overrode his sisters.

  She needed distance from the marquess. She still tingled in unseemly places after that kiss. The last time that had happened, the haunt had attempted to enter her. Besides, she felt safer if he could intervene as needed.

  The sisters grumbled but took their places.

  Bell didn’t even look at Rainford as he settled in a wing chair out of her view. She concentrated on her table companions. “I have no notion of what to do. You’ll have to direct me.”

  “We usually focus on an object, like a crystal.” Alicia placed a pretty piece of quartz in the table center. Other than appearing a trifle disheveled, she seemed none the worse for her encounter with the canvas.

  “You are feeling quite strong enough to do this, Alicia?” Bell asked in concern. “Would you prefer we wait for another night?”

  “You’re the one who would delay.” Victoria centered the crystal to her tastes. “Alicia has a head like a rock.”

  The other married sisters nodded agreement.

  Alicia simply shrugged. “It is obvious our resident ghost wishes our undivided attention. My play accomplished that. So let’s be done with this and see what she wants.”

  The sisters took each other’s hands. Alicia took Bell’s left and Victoria took her right, leaving the two mothers carrying children to sit across from her. Bell was terrified she would harm them in some way, but she didn’t have enough knowledge to argue. She had studied journals on ghosts, but none had recommended séances as a means of communication.

  That Rain allowed this to continue spoke of his desperation to help his father.

  So Bell had to do it. She squeezed the hands holding hers. “What next?”

  “First, we try concentrating on the crystal. Once we’re all sufficiently mesmerized, I’ll ask the spirit to speak. I suppose you must empty your head of thoughts.” Alicia took over explanations.

  Mesmerized? Rather than question, Bell simply stared at the pretty crystal. It gleamed softly in the distant lamplight. They’d deliberately positioned the table so no chandelier loomed over them. She didn’t think crystals would fly or could hurt much, if they did.

  Not thinking was difficult. Perhaps that was why the spirit encouraged her to kiss Rainford. That made her mindless swiftly enough.

  Alicia began humming under her breath. She hummed about as well as she sang, which was to say, not well. Bell smiled to herself. Alicia was a genuinely kind and creative soul who wanted so much to be helpful. Bell was fine with letting her control the séance.

  She didn’t hear any ghosts. Not that she ever did, until they’d invaded her head. How did she empty her head?

  “O spirit, are you here? Knock once for yes,” Alicia intoned.

  Twice for no, if she wasn’t here? Bell hid her amusement.

  No spirit rapped. Alicia muttered and squeezed her hand harder.

  Was she supposed to put on a performance? She couldn’t do that.

  Alicia hummed some more, apparently more in frustration than in ghostly expectation. Finally, she suggested, “Let’s try closing our eyes. Perhaps Bell needs no visual stimulation.”

  Closing her eyes only made Bell more aware of the large masculine presence sitting silently on the other side of the room. She could practically feel Rain suppressing laughter and impatience and frustration. Or perhaps she was thinking he felt as she did. Eyes closed, she sank into her memory of his kisses. She’d never known a man who interested her enough to consider a marriage bed. With Rainford, she could scarcely stop thinking of it—at least when she had nothing else to think of, like now.

  That night they’d lain practically naked together. . . She wanted to experience more. Would it be so terrible of her if they shared a bed just once? It wasn’t as if she were likely to marry. A woman who foolishly toppled at every noise—

  A scream ripped the night.

  Eighteen

  At the scream, Bell predictably slumped in her chair. Rain was out of his seat before her hair hit the table.

  Alicia frantically shook her head at him, warning him to stay away. The women continued holding hands as Bell began to shake. Rain fisted his fingers against his urge to snap her out of wherever she went when she was like this. He understood why she hated fainting. He could scarcely bear watching.

  He deliberately forced his attention away to listen for more screams. Had that just been their resident haunt? He didn’t hear it again. Unable to sit still, he opened the suite door and listened down the hallway, but all was silent.

  A rasping voice jerked his attention back to the suite.

  His voice. His voice heals.

  Rain froze at the strange words. Bell seemed to still be unconscious, with wispy gold curls tumbling over one cheek and the other against the wood. But her lips moved.

  Enhance him. Save my son. The voice was ragged and whispery, nothing like Bell’s clear, crisp tones.

  “Whose voice heals?” Victoria asked, sensibly.

  No answer. Rain remained frozen.

  “Save whom?” Salina demanded, apparently nailing down details.

  My son. Save the duke.

  That’s what Bell had heard the first time. The ghost lacked clarity.

  His voice heals. The whisper trailed away.

  Bell still lay there, unconscious.

  Rain was across the room in the time it took to breathe in. Terrified, he hauled her from
the chair. He sought her pulse while holding her like a rag doll. “Bell,” he commanded. “Bell, you’re here, with us. Wake up.”

  His sisters stared, as frozen as he had been.

  She breathed. He could feel her breasts rising and falling. Her pulse was ragged.

  His voice heals. What had the ghost meant by that? Just in case. . . Rain lowered his tone and applied the composed voice he’d trained himself to use. “Bell, Bell my dearest, Bell, the ghost is gone. Wake, please?”

  She stirred. He inhaled in relief. His sisters crowded around, whispering to each other, probably praying as he couldn’t do right now. The woman he admired above all others still lay limp against him, although her pulse seemed stronger. He didn’t want to set her down. He crushed his hand in her hair, holding her head against his shoulder.

  “Bell, can you hear me? I need to know what I should do next. Shall I tuck you into bed?” He added a hint of humor to his calm voice.

  One of his sisters hmphed, but he ignored her. Bell moved her head. She almost seemed to be struggling, although it came through as twitches.

  “Beautiful Bell, bounteous Lady Isobel, my gorgeous ghost hunter, please come back to us. My sisters are looking at us very strangely.” Rain was more focused on the woman in his arms, but he knew his sisters. He was giving them gossip to gnaw on for months.

  She sighed a hot breath against his collar. He wished the stiff linen to Hades. He kissed her temple. “You can do it, my courageous Bell. Breathe. Let air into your lungs.” He spoke in his calmest tones while squeezing carefully beneath her rib cage, encouraging her diaphragm to expand and contract.

  A moment later, she took a deep breath, coughed, and shook her head, as if to clear it. Rain didn’t want to set her down. He wanted to carry her to bed. But he couldn’t, not with his sisters watching and fretting.

  “One of you go to Drucilla,” he murmured over Bell’s head. “See if she’s unharmed.” He had no idea if that had been a child’s cry. He simply wanted his sisters gone.