by Monica Burns
And he refused to let the man do or say anything that might harm Constance. In truth, he had a lot to make up for where she was concerned. The thought sent guilt ricocheting through him. He’d been a monster to treat her the way he had. In convincing him of her special ability, he’d found it hard to believe she’d ever lied to him about anything. He’d make it up to her. He just wasn’t sure how. Glancing over his shoulder, he released a sigh of relief. Good, she was sleeping. Perhaps she’d find some peace in her dreams.
For him, there would be little sleep this night. His entire world had just been turned upside down in ways he’d never dreamed possible. When she’d repeated what Nigel had told him about Katherine, everything he’d ever believed had been shattered. His brother had been here. In this very room. And that cold air. Over the years, he’d experienced similar instances of the temperature taking a distinct plunge whenever he was home. He’d always put it down to the keep’s stone walls and cold drafts of outside air.
Had those moments been Nigel trying to communicate with him or were there other spirits here as well? His mother and father? He flinched as the memories of that terrible day flooded over him. It had been a horrible sight for anyone, but it had shaped his life from that point forward. Could his parents have been murdered like Nigel and Katherine? No. Nigel had to be mistaken. Constance had said that spirits often forgot things. Especially traumatic things. Perhaps his brother simply didn’t want to remember his own complicity in Katherine’s death or a subsequent suicide.
Lucien tilted his head back, resting it on the chair as the events of the evening cluttered his head once more. Where had Constance gone in those few short moments before her screams had ripped through the salon? One minute she’d been talking to him, then in the blink of an eye, she’d ventured into a realm where he couldn’t reach her.
Worse still had been the moment when he’d been forced to slap her. Calling to her and shaking her had done nothing to disrupt her trance or silence her screams. Even after he’d slapped her cheek she’d continued to scream as if she’d not been fully aware of where she was. The stark terror in her cries had gripped him with an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
In some ways, he was grateful she’d fainted. It had provided him the opportunity to take her away from everyone’s prying eyes, especially Oliver’s. Clearly, Davinia Armstrong had informed her lover about Constance’s gift. But it was his cousin’s response to the event that puzzled him. There had been a cold, calculating assessment in Oliver’s eyes as he’d observed her hysteria.
It was as if he were appraising the situation for any advantage it might bring him. Frowning, Lucien watched a large ember fall off a log and hit the brick hearth. The charred wood flared a couple of times before it simply glowed red in the dim light of the room.
Whatever his cousin had been thinking, it could only have been something to benefit Oliver. Although what was impossible to tell. The man never did anything that didn’t serve to reward himself in some fashion. Even his latest conquest, Mrs. Armstrong, proved that point. The woman was quite wealthy from what Edward had said. And if there was one thing Oliver wanted, it was money.
Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, he closed his eyes. If his grandmother knew about Oliver’s affair with Katherine, she’d never let him cross the keep’s threshold again. He wasn’t sure why he’d never told his grandmother about Oliver and Katherine. In the days following their deaths, he’d been too grief-stricken to think clearly. There had been the inquest to deal with, and his grandmother had been too lost to even come out of her room except for the funeral. After that, it had seemed pointless to add to her grief.
Grief, it was something he’d lived with for most of his life. Tonight, simply accepting that Nigel’s spirit was in the same room with him, communicating with Constance, had offered him a sense of peace. A peace he’d not experienced since he was twelve years old. Even without actually hearing or seeing his brother tonight, his personality had been evident in everything Constance had relayed to him. As always, Nigel hadn’t missed an opportunity to call him stubborn or insist the curse didn’t exist.
If his brother really had been murdered, then what about the curse? Had his brother been right to berate him for believing it was real? No. Even if Nigel and Katherine’s deaths were foul play, it didn’t change the fact that his father and great-grandfather had murdered and committed suicide because of the curse. Believing Nigel would only give him hope—false hope. He’d lost too much already. Endangering Constance’s life wasn’t something he was willing to risk.
The fire popped in the hearth, and he forced his heavy eyelids open to see the flames had died out to become a mass of fiery red coals. The glowing embers had a hypnotic effect, and moments later he drifted off to sleep.
The corridor she was in was pitch black, and fear crawled its way over her skin. She shuddered as she stepped into the light. In front of her, she saw him. Her nemesis. He whirled around to face her. The writhing snakes that encircled the garish head of a smiling hippopotamus made her cry out in disgust. Blood soaked his hands. Dark red, the blood dripped off the ritual blade he held. Her stomach roiled at the sight. With a wide sweeping gesture of his hand, her enemy stepped back to reveal the slab. Horror sliced into her with the sharpness of the bloodied blade, and she screamed.
The sound echoed off the walls until it enveloped her like a fiery blanket of pain. Her lungs ached from the lack of air as her shrieks of terror filled her ears. Piercing through the terrifying sound, Lucien’s voice called out to her as if from a great distance. Desperately, she turned toward it. Behind her the sound of her nemesis’s laughter chilled her before she was hurtled forward toward the sound of Lucien’s voice.
“Constance. Wake up.” Lucien’s hands bit into her arms as he shook her awake.
Relief swelled over her. A dream. It had only been a dream. Jamie was safe. Lucien had sent him to the nursery with Jacobs. She dragged in a deep breath as she met Lucien’s worried gaze. Behind him, Anna looked on with a similar expression of concern.
“It was a dream, Constance, just a dream.”
With a nod, she closed her eyes and shuddered at the horrible images she’d seen. Jamie lying on a large slab of stone. Lifeless. Butchered by the monster who’d been killing for so long. Her stomach churned at the memory. Strong arms enveloped her and pulled her close. A solid heartbeat reverberated in her ear as Lucien gently stroked her hair.
“It’s all right, yâ sabāha. I’m here. I’ll not let anyone harm you.”
She barely heard Lucien’s words as she fought to control the hysteria rising inside her. The vividness of her dream had filled her with stark terror. Even now, it taunted her with the life-like sights and sounds of the blood pouring from Jamie’s small body. She’d learned a long time ago her visions were never fully accurate. But the possibility of someone harming her son was almost more than she could bear. A tear slid down her cheek. She needed to see Jamie. Needed to know he was safe.
Pushing her way free of Lucien’s arms, she scrambled out of bed and reached for her robe. She ignored Anna’s gasp of dismay and Lucien’s growl of aggravation as she raced toward the door. She’d only gone a few feet down the hall, when a strong hand pulled her to a halt.
“Damn it, Constance, where the hell are you going?” Concern laced its way beneath his sharp question, but it didn’t stop her from tugging against his grasp.
“I’m going to my son,” she said vehemently. “Now let me go.”
With a vicious jerk of her arm, she whirled away from him and raced toward the stairs leading to the third floor. Reaching the nursery, she threw herself into the door of Jamie’s bedroom. The lively fire in the hearth, mixed with the pink dawn drifting through the windows, created a reddish glow in the room.
The sight of Jamie sleeping in his bed pulled the air out of her lungs, and she clung to the door for support as relief washed over her
. Strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind as Lucien’s deep voice echoed in her ear. “He’s safe, yâ sabāha, let him sleep.”
Nodding, she allowed Lucien to guide her back to her room.
“Oh, my lady, you look bone weary.” Anna clucked at her like a worrisome hen as she entered the bedroom. “Why don’t I bring up some warm milk so you can sleep?”
Anna’s words made Constance stare at the bed with distaste. The last thing she wanted to do was sleep. She’d had more than enough nightmares for the time being. She shook her head and moved toward the fireplace to sink into one of the chairs.
“No thank you, Anna.”
“Tea and toast I think, Anna.” Lucien nodded at the maid as he crossed the room to stand at the fireplace opposite her. “See to it at once, and leave the door open on your way out.”
The maid bobbed a curtsey and hurried from the room. The fire crackled quietly as he stared into the flames. There was a steady strength about him that made her feel safe. His presence comforted her as did his understanding. Although his physical strength could have easily overpowered hers a moment ago, he’d not interfered with her need to see Jamie was safe and unharmed. He was capable of great understanding, and it was one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him.
“You should sleep. You only slept a few hours last night.”
“I can’t…I…the nightmares…”
“I think it’s time you trust me with all your secrets, Constance.” The quiet steel in his voice demanded she answer him.
When she hesitated, his mesmerizing gaze locked with hers, silently commanding her to speak. With a slight nod, she looked away from him and stared into the fire.
“My gift allows me to see spirits, but it also shows me things too. My visions are sometimes things that have happened in the past or they might be things in the future.”
“Are you saying you can tell the future?” he asked in an incredulous tone.
“No.” She shook her head. “I see images of the future. Not all of them come true, but my experience has taught me to be cautious.”
The memory of Jamie and the man in her visions made her stomach lurch with fear. How could she protect him? She could take him away from the keep, but what if that’s what the devil wanted her to do? She’d fled London thinking she was safe here from Lucien. Instead, fate had guided her not away from him, but straight into his arms. If she left the keep, would she be dragging Jamie closer to danger or saving him from harm? She didn’t know what to do.
“These images you refer to. You had one about Jamie.” The pragmatic note in his voice indicated he didn’t need an answer so much as he was simply stating a fact.
“Yes.” She nodded her head, refusing to expand on the horror of her vision. Dwelling on it only intensified her fear.
“When you saw Jamie in this vision, where were you?”
“The labyrinth.” Despite the unexpected nature of his question, she responded without thinking.
The moment she did so, she jerked her head up and met his gaze with a numb sense of shock. How had she known it was the labyrinth? There hadn’t been anything to indicate where she was, but she was certain her response was correct. Unable to remain seated, she rose to her feet and restlessly paced the floor behind her chair.
Lucien remained by the fire, one elbow resting on the mantle as he rubbed his chin with his fingers. He didn’t speak for the longest time, and just when she was about to go to him, he uttered a decisive sound. Straightening, he turned and walked to the window to pull back the heavy curtains. The sun was well over the horizon, and the light streaming into her room ushered in the promise of a warm spring day.
He dropped the curtain and moved to her side. The heat of his hands warmed her shoulders as he pulled her forward to kiss her brow. Breathing in a deep breath, she trembled at the rich, masculine scent filling her nose. Her tiny shudder didn’t go unnoticed, and his grip tightened on her shoulders for a brief instant before he gently pushed her away from him. Behind her, the sound of rattling china announced Anna’s return. Lucien immediately headed toward the door as the maid entered the room.
“I’ll leave you in Anna’s capable hands as I’ve business to attend to this morning.” He nodded toward the tray the maid held. “See to it that her ladyship eats something.”
There was a finality about his manner that worried her. He’d come to a decision about something, and she was certain it wouldn’t be to her liking. Constance stretched out her hand to him as he strode toward the door.
“Lucien…”
If he heard her soft call, he ignored it. As the door closed behind him, she frowned at his sudden departure. So much had happened to him last night. Acknowledging her ability had turned his world upside down. It had changed things between them. He’d become more protective of her. But was that because he still believed in the curse, or was it something more? Was he coming to care for her? Despite the fear surrounding her, the idea that Lucien might have feelings for her, made her heart skip a quick beat. If she helped him solve the riddle of the Blakemore curse, would it be possible for things to change between them? He’d be free to love, but would he love her? That was a question she didn’t have the answer to.
Striding through the front door of the keep, Lucien pulled off his riding gloves with a quick tug. When he’d left Constance earlier this morning, he’d blindly stumbled through his daily routine as he grappled with the implications of the night before. His mornings always included a ride around the estate, and today the exercise had served to help him think through a plan of action.
As Jacobs met him in the main hall to accept his riding crop and gloves, he turned his head toward the soft laughter floating out of the library. Beside him, the butler cleared his throat in response to Lucien’s curiosity.
“Young Westbury and Lady Imogene, my lord.”
With a nod, Lucien finished removing his gloves and handed them to the butler. The fact that the children were close by simplified matters. He’d planned on exploring the labyrinth today, and he needed Jamie to show him one of the entrances. Now seemed like the perfect opportunity. Quietly entering the library, he saw the children kneeling in the chairs surrounding the map table. It was the only table available as Constance had filled the remaining flat surface with cataloged items. Their heads close together, Jamie was drawing something while his niece looked on in fascination. His tread quiet, Lucien moved closer.
“Now look, Imogene, you know we’ll be strung up if we’re caught, so we have to be very careful. But those sounds we’ve been hearing at night have to be coming from the labyrinth. We have to find out what they are.”
“Do you think we can really do this, Jamie? What if the ghosts are making those noises?”
“It’s all right, Gene, I won’t let them hurt you,” Jamie said with bold confidence as he patted the girl’s shoulder.
“But what about your mama? Won’t she be angry with us for going back into the secret passageways?”
“If we’re quiet, she won’t be able to get angry until we’ve solved the mystery. Then she’ll be happy, and we’ll be heroes. We just need to keep it a secret, otherwise there’ll be the devil to pay.”
Having heard enough, Lucien cleared his throat loudly. The two children whirled around in a frenzied fashion. Jamie kept his hands behind him, clutching his drawing out of view. Imogene’s guilty look didn’t surprise him. She’d never been able to keep a secret. Young Westbury’s expression, however, made him stifle a chuckle. With the air of a brash highwayman, the boy met his eyes with a jaunty smile. He acted as if he’d merely been playing a game of tic-tac-toe with Imogene. Admiration for the boy’s ingenuity and spirit tugged the corner of his mouth up in a small smile.
“What are the two of you up to?”
The children looked at each other, before Jamie spoke up. “We were talking about my mother, my lord. Is she b
etter? May we see her this morning?”
Damnation, he was more seasoned than half the politicians he knew. The boy hadn’t actually lied, but he’d neatly sidestepped the question without revealing the true nature of their activities. He would have to stay on his toes with the lad. “Yes, she’s doing much better. I’m sure she’d enjoy a visit from both of you.”
“Come on, Gene. Let’s go see if Cook has some strawberries we can take to her.” Jamie grabbed the girl’s hand in the process of dragging her out of the library.
Lucien bit back a smile as the pair skirted him on their way out of the room. The children had taken only a couple of steps past him, when he cleared his throat again.
“My lord, one moment, if you please.” Behind him, he heard the rustle of paper, and he smiled to himself. Without looking at the children, he clasped his hands behind his back. “If you would, my lord. I’d like to see your map.”
Silence greeted his request. He turned to see Jamie and Imogene staring at each other in helpless despair. When neither of them moved, he arched his eyebrows in a silent command. Jamie grimaced at the inevitable and stepped forward with obvious reluctance to hand over his drawing.
Lucien accepted the crumpled paper and opened it. The schematic was impressive for a boy Jamie’s age, and he looked up from the map at the boy. “Did you draw this?”
“Yes, my lord.” A note of belligerent pride echoed in the words, and Lucien returned his gaze to the detailed drawing.
“Most impressive. How did you come up with all this detail? Did you copy it from another source?”
“No, sir. I did it all from memory.” Indignation in his voice, Jamie straightened to his full height. At that moment, Imogene stood up for her hero.
“He’s a very good drawer, Uncle Lucien. Why, every time we come out of the labyrinth he adds to the map.”
“Gene!”
Despite his dismay that the pair of them had been exploring the labyrinth for some time, Lucien struggled hard to suppress a laugh at Jamie’s appalled cry. As usual, Imogene had revealed more than she was supposed to. Obviously frustrated, the boy glared at his companion.