Captivating the Countess

by Patricia Rice

  The ice that had frozen his spine threatened his heart as Rain followed the child’s pointing finger.

  Floating ethereally above the child’s head, unseen by anyone else, was Bell, still in her dinner gown.

  He could swear she was whispering Help me, help me.

  Rain’s heart dropped to his slippers. He’d seen her like this once before—when she’d been in bed dreaming. Was this part of her dream?

  Unable to tell the others what he was seeing without sounding as hysterical as the child, Rain swept Drucilla up and handed her over to Estelle. “Lady C, Lady Craigmore. I’ll check on her.”

  He used a calm voice he did not feel to send the weeping child back to bed.

  And then he set off for Bell’s suite in the north wing.

  Carrying his lamp high, he took the route she would most likely take had she stopped at the nursery for any reason. He noted the unlit sconce, but his light revealed nothing out of the ordinary. He might take this floor to the far end and the servants stairs, but the slamming doors and unlit sconce had raised his hackles.

  He started down, praying to find Bell in her chamber, dreaming.

  At the sight of her crumpled and unconscious on the landing, Rain roared his anguish.

  When he kneeled down beside her, a voice that wasn’t hers spoke through her lips. She was pushed.

  Twenty-three

  Heart ripping from his chest, arms filled with his lifeless burden, Rain shoved open a door of the ducal suite. Estelle rushed over in a flurry of exclamations.

  “Rain, you can’t take her in there. That’s mother’s chamber,” she whispered worriedly.

  “And grandmother’s.” With Bell’s beautiful eyes closed and her wicked intelligence silent, Rain operated on sheer terror and instinct. Elbowing his sister aside, he gestured for his father’s valet to yank back the covers of a bed that hadn’t been used in decades. “Right now, our grandmother seems to be occupying Bell.”

  Estelle exclaimed some more and hurried to place herself between him and his patient so she might undo Bell’s clothing. “Why does she not wake?”

  If he were to believe a spirit voice, because someone had pushed Bell down the stairs. Or startled her into fainting, which would have the same effect. He had to protect her. “She fell down the stairs. She has a weak heart,” he heard himself saying instead. “And if I must nurse two patients, I want them near each other.”

  That shut up his sister. It wouldn’t shut up all the other flapping tongues gathering outside the door, awakened by the child’s screams and his own resounding fury.

  Rain was so far beyond furious that he feared melting all his brain cells. The cold chill down his spine probably negated the fury heating his skull. If he thought in nonsense terms, maybe he could survive searching Bell’s delicate frame for internal injuries.

  She breathed. After a careful inspection on the stairs, he hadn’t found any broken bones, although that was a miracle given the angle he’d found her at. Her etheric projection, or whatever one called it, hadn’t followed him from the nursery as far as he knew. He hoped the child’s silence meant that hysterical vision wasn’t still hovering upstairs.

  His grandmother’s harsh voice had spoken only those few words. He was shattering inside trying to decide how to handle this. Why would anyone push Bell?

  Bell did not wake to tell him. Could her soul really leave her body while she lived?

  Estelle efficiently pushed everyone from the room, ordering someone to fetch the countess’s maid and another to bring tea. Rain had no idea who would drink tea at midnight. He’d prefer brandy. But if it removed everyone from the room, he didn’t care if they ordered horse manure.

  He unfastened the remainder of Bell’s hooks in a professional manner, not in the white hot heat of lust. He untied her corset and gestured for the valet to bring him his medical bag. With a stethoscope, Rain verified the stutter in her heart rhythm that he’d suspected. But she’d been living with this all her life. It might cause her to faint, but it shouldn’t cause unconsciousness.

  Bell’s maid arrived, anxiously wringing her hands.

  “Help me undress her.” He gestured at the valet. “Go back to my father. Don’t let anyone in but me. Take the tray from Estelle when she arrives.”

  She was pushed.

  How much did he trust a ghost?

  Despite Button’s shocked objections, Rain helped her undress her mistress, leaving on chemise and drawers for decency. Bell’s courageous spirit didn’t waken.

  This was what she feared—unconsciousness, her mind open and empty, allowing the haunts to enter her—or apparently, for her spirit to depart her body. And Bell was the only one who could tell him how to fix it.

  The tea arrived. Now that suspicion ran rampant in his panicked mind, he didn’t dare feed anything prepared by others to her even if she woke. How much could he tell that to Bell’s new maid?

  Why Bell? What had Bell ever done to anyone that they might want to harm her? It made no sense. He must be mad to listen to ghosts.

  But it was possible his grandmother’s spirit had helped him find the healing talent in his voice. Did that make him mad?

  He ordered Button to sleep in the suite’s salon so she’d be close by. Pulling up a chair beside the bed, Rain held Bell’s hand and prayed as he hadn’t in years. He prayed aloud, so his healing voice might reach her, even though he hadn’t her enhancing ability to help. When she didn’t stir, he began reciting all the idle hopes and dreams he had for someday changing his part-time medical practice to create a clinic and bring in more professionals. It wasn’t a plan he’d ever voiced.

  Thinking perhaps she’d stirred, if only a little bit, Rain continued speaking in his calmest, most patient-friendly tones, talking about hoping his father might live to be a hundred. Rain had only just turned thirty-four in November. He had too many things he wanted to do on his own before he was ready to take over the stultifying tasks of his father’s home and position. He poured out all his thoughts, even some he hadn’t dare think on his own.

  He knew people called him Ice King. He’d learned to be cold and efficient to counterbalance his family’s eccentricities and keep his estate running in a manner that allowed him to continue his medical practice. If he became duke, he’d turn into an automaton. And if he had to do so without the trust income, whoever he might have become would not survive at all.

  If he lost Bell. . .

  It did not bear thinking. He’d finally found a woman who grasped what he needed when even he didn’t know, a woman who matched his intelligence, and didn’t cower in his presence. He’d never find another.

  He’d always thought love a complication, what was expected of him as son and brother. He was fairly sure he loved his family, or he would have killed them all at one time or another, instead of grinding his molars to nubbins.

  But whatever this was he felt for Bell went well beyond accepting frailties and into a wider realm that allowed him to hope for a future where he might actually be content, for the first time in years. Bell actually made him happy. And lustful and terrified, admittedly.

  Her quiet assurance and loving acceptance had the Ice King believing in wives, children, and love instead of chains and shackles. He desperately wished to do the same for her. What would it take to make Bell happy? If he spoke those words, would she wake?

  Rain hadn’t found the right promises to wake her before he dozed off in the chair, still holding her hand. A slight movement of her fingers alerted him. Heart leaping, he squeezed her hand gently.

  “I’m back,” she whispered, sounding puzzled.

  Rain tried not to startle her. Sitting still, stroking her palm and wrist, he merely whispered, “Thank all that is holy.” His intense relief was making him light-headed.

  “Not sure your grandmother is holy,” she murmured, inexplicably. “Did I imagine it, or did I fall down the stairs?”

  “My grandmother says you were pushed.” He said it questioningly, unab
le to believe it. He’d thought perhaps the child might have started screaming first, toppling Bell with startlement. He didn’t want to believe someone had tried to kill her.

  She went quiet but her fingers around his were steady.

  “I think she’s right. The light was out, so I was holding on and being very cautious. I don’t remember being startled until I felt a shove at my back. It could have been a spectral push, I suppose. Your grandmother is good at slamming doors. But I can’t imagine why a ghost or anyone else would hate me.”

  “Spectral shoves were not on my list of possibilities. Thanks for that addition.” Rain straightened his stiffening back. “Just in case this is a more human problem, let’s be safe. I want to keep you here, with people I trust to watch over you. I want time to determine if anyone appears guilty or acting out of character or anything that might give me a clue.”

  And he’d have to have her maid oversee all her meals from kitchen to table. Damn.

  She squeezed his fingers, then removed her hand from his. “I caught Lady Pamela at cheating, and Lady Dalrymple dislikes me for reasons I don’t understand. Perhaps she learned I had Nevins removed. None of that seems reason enough to kill me.”

  “I’ll start questioning in the morning,” he said with murder in mind.

  She could have died.

  He could have lost her forever.

  Now was probably not the time to pour out his undying love and admiration. He needed time to adjust his thinking, to determine when was the best time and the best way to ask this amazing woman to marry him—in a romantical way. There wasn’t any certainty that she’d agree. He couldn’t fail at this, so he’d plan—while casting all the castle’s reprobates into the snow.

  Bell was losing badly to the duke in a game of chess when a knock at the door of the suite sent Button scurrying to answer it. They’d worked out a system where the maid peered around the door, while the duke’s manservant stood beside it, wielding a fire iron. Per instructions, Button insisted the visitor couldn’t enter.

  “Why can’t I visit my uncle? I’ve seen Rain in there. This is outrageous! How am I to know how he’s faring? He could be dead for all I know, and you’re covering it up.” Teddy’s voice rang clearly from the hall.

  Lady Pamela’s was less clear but still audible. “See, I told you. Rainford is keeping something from you. And why is a maid in there and not you?”

  Bell grimaced. Then she gestured at the bowl of nearly liquid oats on the table, distracting the duke from the quarrel. “It’s filled with cream and brown sugar. Eat it. You need to be plump and healthy when you walk out of here.”

  His Grace grunted and gave her one of his acerbic looks, but he took a spoonful while the couple outside argued with Button. The valet finally stepped in, closed the door, and locked it.

  “I wager ten minutes until Alicia arrives to see if she’s allowed in.” Bell wrote her bet on the paper they’d been using.

  “It will take Teddy fifteen to find her. I’ll give it ten minutes before Delahey arrives. The women will have already alerted him.” The duke scribbled his wager beside hers.

  “I cannot imagine how Rain plans to hold them off much longer. Is he interrogating the guests as to where they were last night? We were everywhere. It’s not possible.” Other than painful bruising, Bell felt fine, but Rainford had refused to bring up her ledgers or anything resembling work.

  “Maybe he’s waiting for your ghosts to speak. Or he’s hypnotized them. I’ve been wondering if that’s what his voice does. I must say it’s quite effective, whatever he’s doing. With your help,” the duke added politely.

  His words were music to her ears. If the duke might live. . . she might build castles in the air. “I simply exist, in the same manner as your son’s hand. Rain is the one with the voice and the knowledge. Hypnosis is an interesting theory.” She moved her queen and hoped for the best.

  “Call the girls in and have one of their séances. See if the ghosts know who pushed you. You can’t be held prisoner in here forever. I’m enjoying the company, but you’re young and should be out enjoying life.” He cornered her king.

  “And I’m a very bad chess player, and you’d like someone like Lord Delahey who can challenge you. We could teach Button and your man to play whist. I’m much better at that.” Bell moved the playing pieces back in place, ignoring his reference to a séance.

  “You’re afraid a séance will raise my wife’s ghost to scold you for using her chambers,” he taunted, not distracted from his point. “What if the spirits could tell you the guilty party?”

  “They can’t. They don’t know our names, apparently. We should see if a preacher might do an exorcism. Spirits should move on to peace.” And not speak through her.

  A knock interrupted their dispute.

  “Well, that was faster than I expected.” The duke checked the watch he’d left on the table to time their wagers. “Since we both said ten minutes, is the winner the one who guesses the right person?”

  “No, we both lose because we guessed the time wrong. I’m not losing all my wages to your wily ways.” Bell gestured for him to take the first move.

  Both Alicia and Delahey argued to be allowed in.

  “You should write them a note we can pass through the crack, tell them you’re being held prisoner and that they must climb the walls and rescue you,” Bell suggested.

  The duke cackled.

  Silence abruptly reined at the door.

  “Papa?” Alicia finally called. “Is everything all right?”

  “Your brother has run mad like all the rest of you. So I’d say everything is fine.” The duke moved his pawn.

  Bell chuckled at the quiet consultation outside the door. Rain had gone a little bit mad, but then, she wasn’t exactly pleased that someone had presumably attempted to kill her. Of course, if it had been a ghost, then she wasn’t safe even in here.

  Twenty-four

  “What the devil is going on?” Delahey entered Rain’s study in the imperious manner he no doubt used in parliament. Nearing forty, still handsome enough but growing soft in the middle, Victoria’s husband had experience in throwing around his considerable weight. “The women are all aflutter and Teddy is swearing the duke died and you aren’t telling anyone.”

  “Where were you last evening and who are your witnesses?” Rain had a chart laid out on his desk. He didn’t wish to accuse anyone without proof of guilt, but if he could narrow his list of suspects, he’d simply have them removed from the house.

  He prayed the list wouldn’t include anyone in his family. He’d not only have a hard time heaving them out, but he’d have an even worse time believing it of them. He had to strengthen the wall he kept between himself and others until this matter was settled.

  If he couldn’t keep Bell safe, he’d have to send her away. A piece of him died each time he thought of that. So he wouldn’t think it. He’d find the culprit first.

  “Tell me what’s happening, and I’ll give you my answer,” Delahey countered. “You’re the one who wasn’t anywhere about last night.”

  “I was in my room or I wouldn’t have to ask. I have two patients on my hands this morning, and I don’t want a third. Make my life easier, please, and simply answer my questions. The alternative is that I send the whole damned family and company home.”

  Delahey frowned and settled into one of the leather chairs. “Victoria wouldn’t leave if she thought the duke in danger. You’d have to tie her up and toss her out. I’ll give you a list of everyone in the card party and their approximate time of departure, if that will help. You can compare to what others say. Now will you tell me?”

  Bell would tell him that he couldn’t do everything himself. Grudgingly accepting the need for help, Rain explained as carefully as he could without making a gullible idiot out of himself. Delahey listened with a frown at the ghostly warning. But he appeared appalled at mention of the countess mysteriously falling down stairs.

  With the conciseness o
f a trained observer, his brother-in-law gave a clear picture of the card party.

  Rain jotted notes and drew up a chart. “Stay here while I call for Victoria and let her verify this. Then I’ll need someone who was in the drawing room to confirm the various early arrivals from the card room and when they left the drawing room.” Rain pulled the rope and had a footman hunt for his sister.

  “It’s possible the countess is simply an hysteric or playing on your sympathies,” Delahey suggested as they waited.

  Rain pierced him with a withering glare. “I think I’m a better judge of character than that. Did the countess ever give you the impression of being a fool?”

  “Quite the opposite. I simply wanted to be certain you’re being clear-headed. It makes no logical sense to harm her from all I can tell, unless there is something wrong with your books, and they fear she’s discovered it. Then every servant in the household is suspect, and we’re going about this all wrong.”

  Rain rubbed his temples at the notion of widening his list of suspects instead of narrowing it. His molars couldn’t take it any longer.

  Victoria bustled in, verified Bell had been sitting with Teddy, Alicia, Harry, Lady Dalrymple, and Lombard, and even drew a diagram of the whist tables so they could place who was where when the tables changed over.

  “Sal retired to the drawing room when Alicia left the table. She can tell you who was in there. I saw Lady Pamela leave in a huff. I don’t know if she went upstairs or not. And I believe Helen ran out of coins and went into the drawing room before the game was over.”

  “There’s no chance Nevins could have returned and been hiding somewhere?” Rain made notes. “He’s the one who insulted Bell.”

  “He’s a particular friend of Helen’s, but I cannot imagine she’d risk your favor by doing such a thing. She’s really not very bright and needs your protection. Have you looked at her daughter’s leg? I’m afraid she may have hired a quack to fix it.” Victoria examined the chart Rain handed her and nodded approval.