One Haunted Evening (Haunted Regency Series Book 1)

by Ava Stone

  She shook her head. “I really don’t think I can.”

  She licked her pretty pink lips, and Alastair wanted more than anything to lean in and kiss her again. Their previous one had been too short. Far too short. And he wanted so desperately to reassure her of his feelings, and to find out if she had any for him. Of course, he didn’t want to overset her. Lord only knew what would cause her to collapse again.

  “Well,” he said lightly, trying to thin the heavy air between them, “there’s still time for discussion, isn’t there?”

  Daphne opened her mouth as if to reply when loud voices came from down the corridor and a moment later, Dr. Alcott burst into the drawing room. His brows were drawn together, and his lips turned down into a frown as he practically ran across the room to his sister.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, kneeling in front of her, seemingly beginning an examination on the spot with a thorough check of her eyes. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” she said, trying to laugh, but Alastair knew better. There was fear there. She was just as worried as everyone else was. “We were in the stables—”

  “The stables?” Dr. Alcott’s sharp gaze shifted to Alastair. “What the devil were you doing in the stables?”

  “Graham, please,” Daphne pleaded with her brother. “Can we do this at home?”

  “No,” he bit out. “I want to know why you let him take you into the stables.”

  Alastair couldn’t take it anymore. “Is there something I’m missing?”

  Daphne hated to talk about it. It only brought up painful memories that were better left buried and unaddressed. She had no trouble living her life, day to day, forgetting the horrible way her parents had perished. Or the odd condition of her heart they’d discovered shortly following their deaths. But Alastair deserved an explanation. He was sitting there, confusion written all over his handsome face, and Daphne had the overwhelming urge to kiss him and tell him that everything was going to be all right. That everything was all right.

  She looked to her brother, and he nodded before finally backing away from her and taking a proper seat.

  Daphne’s entire body shook with nerves. Surely this wasn’t good for her condition, but she wouldn’t leave him in the dark. She could do this, hopefully without losing consciousness.

  “My parents died in a fire…in a stable, to be exact.” Her voice shook so violently that her jaw started to stiffen, making it hard to form the words properly. She was about to go on when Alastair reached out and took her hand in his. The warmth spread through her, but instead of igniting desire, his touch calmed her. She met his eyes. Their dark depths held so much concern it made her want to cry. Or throw herself at him. Or both. She almost forgot her brother was in the room until he cleared his throat loudly enough to make Alastair try to pull away. But Daphne would have none of that. She needed him, needed his calming touch. So she held tightly to his hand and said with her eyes what she couldn’t say out loud: Don’t let go.

  “I was there, unfortunately, when it happened,” she pressed on. “By the time it was all over, half the town had gathered to see if the doctor and his wife would emerge from the inferno. But they didn’t.” Daphne sucked in a shaky breath and Alastair squeezed her hand. “They went back in to save our horses. Only one made it out.”

  “Daphne suffered her first spell that day,” Graham put in, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the arms of the chair. He hated to speak of the incident just as much as Daphne did, so it was no surprise he was skipping to the topic of Daphne’s condition. The details in between were too sad to speak of. “She had daily fainting spells for a while, and that’s when I discovered that her heart had an irregular beat.”

  “But I’m fine now!” she put in, eager to reassure everyone that she was well. “It hasn’t happened in ages, truly.” She turned to Graham. “You know it hasn’t.”

  Graham leveled her with his blue eyes that were almost identical to her own. “Then why did it happen today?”

  Daphne’s heart seized. She knew why it happened, and it wasn’t just because of being in the stables. It was because she’d been overcome with her feelings for Alastair. She turned to him. He was staring at her, searching her face for the answer, his brow furrowed with concern.

  “I’m afraid this was my fault,” he finally said when Daphne failed to answer. “I didn’t realize—”

  “How could you have?” Daphne put in. She wouldn’t let him take the blame when he’d known nothing of her history. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t all because of the stables, but she wasn’t yet certain of his affections.

  “Daphne should have known better,” Graham said. “I lay the blame entirely at her feet, Lord Wolverly.” Then he stood, towering over the both of them. “Come, Daphne. We should get you home to rest.”

  “But I don’t need to rest,” she replied, desperate to get just a few more moments alone with Alastair.

  But he was of the same mind as her brother. “You should go, Miss Alcott.”

  Daphne’s heart constricted. Was he rejecting her now that he knew of her condition? Was he afraid she would be a poor candidate to produce an heir? Did he worry that her delicate state would make for a difficult life for him?

  No matter what he was thinking, she’d not get to know today. Perhaps not ever. Though she hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

  He stood and pulled her up with him. Her brother held out his elbow for her to take—a replacement for Alastair’s, which she clung to now. She didn’t want to let go. She lingered for longer than she ought to have, unable to look him in the eye again.

  “Thank you for taking care of her in my absence,” Graham said as Daphne made the switch from one elbow to the other.

  “Of course,” Alastair replied.

  With one last lingering glance, Daphne allowed Graham to lead her away. They were almost out of the room when Alastair stopped them with a practically shouted, “Wait!”

  Daphne swung around and met his eyes. “Yes?” she asked, hope billowing in her chest.

  “May I call on you tomorrow? To…make sure you are well.”

  Now her heart nearly exploded with glee, and she struggled to maintain her composure. Instead of leaping into his arms like she wanted to do, she simply smiled at him and nodded. “I would like that very much.”

  Alastair nodded back. “Until tomorrow then.”

  “Until tomorrow.”

  By the time they arrived back home, Daphne was feeling much more like herself. The warmth had returned to her cheeks, and she didn’t feel the least bit sick to her stomach anymore.

  “Shall I prepare us something to eat?” she asked Graham as they stepped through the door. “We’ve some of yesterday’s soup left over, and a loaf of bread. Will that satisfy you?”

  Graham nodded but didn’t say anything. Clearly, he was still upset over her episode. It only dredged up painful memories for him of that day. It did for her too, but she refused to let it ruin her day. Or her life. She had too much to live for and look forward to, the least of which was Lord Wolverly—Alastair—coming to call tomorrow. It was a miracle that she’d not scared him off with her condition.

  She looked to her brother, who sat in his chair, which had been Father’s chair first, his brow furrowed in thought. The first idea that came to mind was that she ought to find him a lovely girl to fall in love with. Someone who could heal his wounds. Of course she was being fanciful and romantic, but wasn’t that what Alastair was doing for her? Healing her wounds? It certainly felt that way. If only Graham could find that same kind of love…

  “What is the nature of your relationship with Lord Wolverly?” he asked, causing Daphne to fumble with the large pot of soup. Thankfully, she caught herself before she dumped the lot of it all over the floor.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked once she’d righted herself.

  “I see the way you look at one another.” He settled his blue eyes on her. “Tell me…do you carry a tendre for him?” />
  Daphne hung the kettle over the fire in the grate and then nervously ran her hands over her skirts. “Would it matter if I did?” She gave a little nervous laugh. “He’s a sophisticated gentleman from London, and I’m a bumpkin from the Lake District. We might as well be Capulets and Montagues.”

  “Yes, but that didn’t stop Romeo and Juliet from pursuing one another…or running off together.”

  She could feel her brother’s eyes watching her, but she didn’t dare meet them. If she did, he’d know everything, for surely her desire for the viscount was written all over her face.

  “That’s why we read stories,” she returned. “To learn from them. Now we know better, don’t we?”

  “Daphne.” His tone was soft and cajoling. He clearly wanted the truth out of her, even though he already knew it.

  Daphne placed the spoon to the side once she’d given the soup a good stir. Her heart was racing. “It doesn’t matter what I feel for him, or he for me,” she said, trying to choke back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. “I’m not going to leave you.”

  When she met her brother’s eyes, they were wide with a fair amount of shock. “Me? What have I got to do with this?”

  “You’re my brother,” she explained. “I’m all you’ve got. I’d never leave you here all alone to go gallivanting about London as the Viscountess Wolverly. How cruel that would be.”

  Graham stared at her for a long moment until he couldn’t hold in his mirth any longer. He guffawed like an ape, and nearly doubled over in his chair. Daphne failed to see what was so humorous.

  When he finally gained his composure enough to speak, he stood from his chair and crossed the room. His arms went about Daphne, and his continued laughter shook her body.

  “My dear, sweet sister,” he said, giving her a tight squeeze before backing up a bit so he could see her. “Do you think I want you to stay here for me? You’d be miserable, especially if the man you care for is off gallivanting about London, as you put it.”

  “But—”

  He put a finger up to her mouth. “Shush. I will not stand in the way of you and your Lord Wolverly.”

  Daphne blinked up at her brother. “You won’t?”

  Graham shook his head. “Of course not. But I will insist this be done properly. I want him to court you, and ask me for your hand, if it comes to that.”

  “Of course.” Daphne could hardly contain her excitement.

  “Now don’t get overset again,” Graham warned.

  “I won’t.” She stretched up on tiptoe to kiss her brother upon the cheek. “May I go to Callie’s now?”

  “You won’t eat with me?”

  Daphne dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. She wasn’t hungry in the least. Graham seemed to understand.

  “Go on,” he said. “But take your time.”

  “I will!” Daphne removed her shawl from the hook by the front door and threw it about her shoulders. She was almost out the door when she remembered she needed some rum butter for Callie’s brother, so she turned back, filled her basket as quickly as she could, and then set off to tell her friend about Alastair.

  Brighid did everything in her power to remain busy the next day. She even went so far as to organize the herbarium, spending more time in that room than she had in the past two months. It did need a thorough cleaning and many of the plants could be taken from the rafters and put into jars.

  She should have just returned to her grandmother’s cottage. It wasn’t as if she was needed. Blake may wish for her to prepare his tea, but another kept him comfortable at night.

  Oh, why had she checked on him in the middle of the night again? She should have just stayed away. Because she was worried that he might be feverish, she had taken another cup of tea to him shortly after midnight only to find that woman in his bed again, draped across him like a blanket. If she were so concerned with her lover, why wasn’t she taking care of Blake during the day?

  If she didn’t fear Blake might get worse, Brighid would have returned home, but she couldn’t leave the castle. Not until he was recovered. Yet, that didn’t mean she had to be the one to care for him in the interim. The maids were skilled at making the tea and since Blake’s lover couldn’t be bothered, others could see to his care. Mrs. Small would let her know if he needed anything further.

  “Where the bloody hell is Brighid?” Blake had lain in bed all day with nobody to keep him company. A maid had brought him tea but he hadn’t seen anyone else. His friends popped in for a moment to check on him, but none stayed around long enough to keep him company. It was rather depressing and as the hours ticked by, he felt more and more sorry for himself, even though he was physically feeling much better. His body barely ached, the head pains were gone and his stomach no longer churned with threats of tossing up his accounts. He could do with some company.

  Had Brighid returned to her grandmother’s?

  No, she was going to remain until he was well. As he was still ill, where the blazes was she?

  “Thorn!” If he so much as attempted to kiss Brighid, their friendship was over.

  Of course, Thorn was probably doing just that with Brighid succumbing to his charms right at this very moment. How could she not? The man did have a way about him, not that Blake understood what it was, but women seemed to fall into bed with him at every turn.

  “Or, maybe she was with Alcott.” The doctor did want to learn more about herbs. They were probably with their heads together right now, talking about plants and such while he lay up here in misery.

  Well, he would show them. Tomorrow he was leaving this bed, whether he was up to it or not! He would put an end to Thorn’s seduction and Alcott’s need for plant knowledge.

  At least the beautiful maid visited him.

  Why did she only come in the middle of the night, though? And why didn’t she speak?

  It was rather confusing and, hopefully, when he was well, he could ask about her, so that he could thank her for her care.

  Alastair sat on the sofa for he didn’t know how long, pondering all that had just transpired. It was an odd thing for him to admit, but he thought perhaps he might be…

  No, he couldn’t say it. Not even to himself. He’d only known the girl a couple of days now. He couldn’t possible be falling in love with her.

  Although, when he thought about her—which was essentially all the bloody time now—his heart raced and his mind was all a jumble and, damn it, he just wanted to be with her. Always. He wanted more than anything to protect her and watch over her, especially after learning of her condition, whatever it was. He could take her to London, get her the best care anywhere. Not to slight her brother, of course, but he was only a country doctor. What could he know of such a complicated heart condition?

  “Ah, there you are!” Sidney strolled into the parlor, his swagger slightly off kilter, as if he’d already been drinking. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “Yes, well, here I am.” Alastair wasn’t really in the mood for a chat, especially if Sidney was already deep in his cups. “Have you been drinking, my friend?”

  Sidney shrugged. “Just a nip of the old blue ruin.”

  Wonderful. “Gin is a poor man’s drink,” Alastair pointed out. “I hardly think it suits you.”

  “Don’t be so old fashioned, Wolfie.” He winked, knowing Alastair hated it when he did that to his name. “I’m only a bit jug-bitten.” Then he crossed to the sidebar and started to pour brandy into two tumblers. “I assume you’ll drink with me if it’s brandy.”

  Alastair accepted the beverage. He didn’t normally like to imbibe so early in the day, but truth be known, he could use the drink. Perhaps it would help him sort out his feelings for Daphne.

  “So,” Sidney said, plopping into a nearby chair and throwing one leg over the arm, as was his custom. “Have you set a date yet?”

  Alastair nearly choked on his brandy. “Date?” he repeated when he’d gotten himself under control.

&nbs
p; “Come on, you old sod. I see the way you look at her. I can’t say I blame you. A diamond of the first water. Or, she would be, if, you know…she wore acceptable fashions.”

  It wasn’t that Alastair hadn’t noticed her clothes were a bit outdated, but he wasn’t certain he cared anymore. She could wear a burlap bag and he’d still want to bed her. And wed her, damn it.

  “I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.”

  “Why?” Sidney stared at him, feigning shock. “You haven’t laid any claim to her, have you? I’ve heard nothing of an engagement or even a courtship, for that matter.”

  The bastard was just trying to goad him. Alastair knew that, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Sidney couldn’t resist a pretty face.

  “As a matter of fact, I have.” It wasn’t a total lie. He was calling on her tomorrow, wasn’t he? And hadn’t he kissed her in the stables? That must count for something.

  “Oh, ho, ho!” Sidney guffawed, clutching his stomach with a big, ridiculous smile on his face. “The mighty Lord Wolf has finally been brought up to scratch, and by a country bumpkin, no less.”

  “I’d watch yourself, Sid,” he warned. He’d not allow anyone to call Daphne a country bumpkin, or any other derogatory term, for that matter. “You’ll find yourself on the field of honor if you’re not careful.”

  “Don’t get your knickers in a wad, my friend,” Sid replied, his manner sobering just a bit. “I’m only teasing you because it’s so easy to do.”

  Alastair knew that. He had often been on the receiving end of jokes and pranks thanks to his serious nature.

  Sidney sat up in his chair and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “If you like her all that much, you should ask for her hand. Judging by the way she looked at you, she wouldn’t say no.”

  But her brother might. Alastair sighed. It was a risk he was going to have to take. A wall he’d climb when he came to it. When he called on her tomorrow, he would ask for her hand.