The ghost had saved her.
She was released abruptly, and her back hit the stairs with a soft thunk, and pain shot up her side and down her leg. Her vision blurred as she lay on the stairs.
Earnest ran down to lick her cheek.
“I am all right. Are you?” She felt the dog’s limbs and body, but he seemed to have fared better than she. She released him and gently sat up, her movements slow, awkward, and painful. She waited a moment for her head to clear and then tried to stand. The moment she put weight on her legs, pain shot up from her right ankle. She stifled a scream and lifted that foot off the ground and leaned against the banister. It was a minute before she could open her eyes without wanting to throw up. Hobbling downstairs was out of the question.
Slowly, she slumped back onto the stairs. How was she to reach her room? She gave the dog a rueful glance. “You will have to bring help.” She brought his face toward her and pictured the countess. “Find the countess. I need help.”
Earnest wagged his tail and gave her another lick before he turned to go on his errand. She held him back as she checked over her shoulder. Did she want to remain here alone? Then again, what could the dog do for her if he stayed? The last few minutes proved he could not protect her from a ghost.
Reluctantly, she released him. “Go.”
Once the patter of his paws died away, all remained silent. No sound, no movement, and most of all, no unearthly visitor.
He had departed as quickly and silently as he had appeared. But what an assignment he had given her.
She lowered herself a step at a time, but after a few, the pain in her ankle became intolerable, and she became dizzy, so she gave up. Nothing for it but to wait.
She sighed heavily, and then cringed as her side ached. She sat and rested her elbow on the knee of her good leg and her chin on her fist. So the ghost sought a traitor. And she was not allowed to confide that to anyone, least of all Lord Terrance. Why not? One more mystery to add to her bag of troubles.
How was she to search out this villain without a name, a description, or some indication of where she should aim her search?
According to the villagers she spoke to at the Briar Inn, the only rogue in the area was Lord Terrance. In fact, one man had even said that it was believed Lord Terror, Lord Terrance, was a traitor.
Could he be a traitor?
No!
She asked and answered the question without hesitation. Having come to know the man and, Belle admitted with a sigh, come to love him, she could not imagine he had it in him to betray his country.
He was too honorable. He valued his name too highly to risk soiling it. And she would bet he loved his country as much as he loved his family. Besides, surely the ghost would not refer to his son as “traitor”? He would have said, “My son killed me, the bastard.”
The Terrance men did not mince words. Except for Phillip Jones. She knew little about him other than that he played a fine billiards game and possessed a keen sense of humor. He also seemed inordinately interested in her activities and Lord Terrance’s whereabouts. However, that could merely be curiosity and familial interest. According to Lord Terrance, his cousin was short of blunt. Was he capable of betraying his country to fill his pockets? Her instincts said a firm, No.
She leaned back and rested her elbows on the step behind her. All right, not Phillip Jones. How about his Mrs. Jones? She seemed to have no love for her nephew, and she, too, was short of funds. Susie said her aunt deeply grieved her brother’s death.
Still, she had been reliant on the old earl for her creature comforts. Being the poor relation could wear on a person’s soul. Also, if she removed her brother and nephew, her son could inherit.
Was that why she had posted herself here to Clearview when she obviously did not care for country life? Had the chance to be rich enough to live in style and never want for another pence proven too much temptation? But could that high stickler for propriety betray her country? Or murder her brother?
Once again, her instinct said, No.
Belle’s leg throbbed from toes to hip. She moved her bottom to the side and eased the weight off one hip, all the while keeping her injured ankle and side still.
In the meantime, her mind insisted on going over the suspects one by one. There were the servants to consider. And what about Mr. Nightingale? She had spoken on his behalf to Lord Terrance, but what did she really know about him? Then there was Ellison, Lord Terrance’s valet. Mendal said the man was a perpetual drunk. His loyalty could have been bought for a pint or two.
Outside the manor, there were villagers and local gentry. The baker and his wife and the innkeeper all appeared to be simple, honest folk. None of the villagers she had met seemed capable of such infamy as betraying their country.
As for the neighbors, on the top of her list of suspects she easily placed Martin Winfield. She found nothing likeable about him. She had not cared for him when in London, and closer acquaintance in Clearview had not endeared him either. But did a healthy dislike of a person mean they were evil?
Running footsteps on the stairs suggested her wait was over. Belle straightened, glad to give up her quest for answers. Her head now ached as much as her leg, and her reflections had brought her no nearer to finding the traitor.
Earnest reached her first and gave her a warm, welcome lick. A minute later, Lady Terrance rounded the corner.
“My dearest Belle,” Lady Terrance said upon sighting her. She hurried to Belle’s side. “Oh heavens, you poor child.” She leaned against the railing, took several deep breaths and laid a hand on her chest. “My, I have not climbed so much and so fast since I was a child.”
“Are you well?” Belle asked.
“I believe that question is my prerogative. By the by, quite impressive, this dog.” She leaned over to smooth Earnest’s forehead as he lay on the step beside Belle. “He barked until Susie opened the door. Then ran to me, ignoring all others. With my hem in his jaws, he dragged me out and up the stairs. Gave Henrietta and my daughter quite a fright, not to mention, myself.”
Belle scratched the large shaggy gray puppy that lay panting beside her. “He is the best of dogs.”
“Woof,” Earnest said, and his tail thumped the step.
“Now see here,” her ladyship said, “we have discussed the dog but not your ill health. Where are you hurt, child?”
“Only a slightly twisted ankle,” she said and smiled ruefully. “I am so sorry for troubling you.”
“Pish posh,” her ladyship said. “These things cannot be helped.” She checked the stairs leading upward behind Belle with a half-curious, half-nervous glance. “Though one does wonder if you found what you were searching for up here.”
With difficulty, Belle kept her thoughts and findings to herself. She would keep her promise to Lord Terrance about not speaking of such things to members of his household. And her promise to the ghost to keep mum about her hunt for the traitor.
“If you would be so kind as to give me some assistance on my good side,” she said, “I am sure I can make it to my room.”
Before either could move, a commotion on the stairs heralded another arrival.
“Dear Lady Belle,” Martin Winfield said as he sprinted to reach her.
Earnest stood and growled. Winfield held his riding crop threateningly. Afraid the man might strike, Belle pulled Earnest close.
At the same time, a stirring began behind her. The hairs on her neck stood on end, and not because of Winfield. They needed to remove themselves from these steps promptly. But how to do that with Winfield blocking the way?
“Ladies,” he said. “If you would both step aside, I will deal with that wild animal.”
“You will do no such thing.” Lady Terrance stepped protectively in front of Earnest. “He is a hero for rescuing my Belle. You, sir, will kind
ly show the hound the respect he deserves and put down that weapon.”
Mr. Winfield immediately lowered his arm. “My pardon, your ladyship, I thought you were in danger. They said the dog dragged you here.”
“Yes, to find Belle, who has hurt her ankle. That explains why she and I are here, but what brings you to our doorstep? If you are looking for my son, he has gone to the village. I am surprised Felton did not inform you of that.”
“Oh, he did,” Mr. Winfield said with a wide, charming smile that appeared like a rainbow after a storm. “I actually came to see if I might offer my services for the ball preparations. Pardon my abrupt entrance, but when I heard you might be in trouble, I took the liberty of coming to your rescue. Needlessly, I see.”
“It matters not why any of us are here,” Belle said, afraid this conversation had gone on far too long. “I simply wish to return to my chamber.” She forced herself to not look behind her. “Lady Terrance kindly offered to lend me her arm.”
“Oh, allow me.” Mr. Winfield stepped forward.
Earnest poked his head between Belle and Lady Terrance to growl and bare his teeth.
“Earnest, no,” Belle said. “Stay. Sit.”
He ignored her orders, which was so unlike him. He had been very good of late, especially when she used her stern tone. She half wondered if Earnest disobeying her command had something to do with the ghost’s presence. But then why growl at Winfield instead of the looming presence behind them? And why would the ghost show up again now, just when Mr. Winfield arrived? Now she saw the icicle that fell when she first arrived with new eyes, for the one who had been standing beside her that day had been none other than Mr. Winfield.
Earnest made to leap at him, but both she and Lady Terrance restrained the dog.
“That animal should be shot,” Winfield said. “He is a danger.”
“He only seems to be a danger to you,” Belle said, out of breath from sitting on the large dog to keep him from flinging himself at Winfield. The dog’s jaws were agape, sharp white teeth flashing above drooling gums.
“What the blazes is happening here?” Lord Terrance suddenly asked.
With all the noise Earnest was making, Belle had not heard him come up the stairs. She hoped he would not ask what had brought them all up here.
“Aunt, Lady Belle, are you both well?” Mr. Jones added his bulk to the crowded stairway.
“We do seem to have a bit of a problem with Earnest,” Lady Terrance said. “I do not understand why. He seemed wonderful before Mr. Winfield arrived.”
Lord Terrance gave his neighbor an angry glance then turned his attention to the dog. “Earnest, sit.”
Earnest sat. For the first time, the hound’s gaze moved away from Winfield. He gave a sad whine when his sight met his master’s, and with a lick of his chops, he lay down.
Lady Terrance slumped beside him on the stairs, looking exhausted.
Belle did likewise. In the excitement, she had forgotten about her leg, and now it throbbed worse than ever and made her queasy. That is all I need. To cast my accounts on the closest gentleman’s boots.
A glance up informed her she would be violating Lord Terrance’s polished black Hessians. The world began to swim, and the sound of chatter faded. There was a moment of pain, then she was floating in the air. Was she in the ghost’s grip again?
“Be still.” Lord Terrance’s voice was so close to her right ear that his breath brushed her cheek.
“Careful, Rufus, do not drop her,” Lady Terrance said.
“That is hardly my intention, Mama,” he said, but he held Belle tighter.
Belle wound her arm around his neck and settled her head against his shoulder. Her heart pounded, and her blood rushed to her head at being held so fiercely and protectively by this man. She never wanted him to let her go. She tenderly ran her free hand down the length of his neck.
“If you do not stop that right now, I will drop you,” he whispered. “There is only so much restraint you can expect from a man.”
“What was that?” Mr. Winfield said. “I did not quite catch your words.”
“I asked Lady Belle to lie still. It is difficult enough to negotiate these winding steps without her squirming.”
“I would be happy to relieve you,” his neighbor said.
“That is unnecessary, Winfield,” Mr. Jones said. “This is family business. If Rufus requires assistance, he will gain it from me.”
“No need to jostle my Belle any more than necessary,” Lady Terrance said.
“My Belle, indeed,” Lord Terrance muttered.
“Your mother is most kind to tolerate my mishap.” Belle clenched her fingers to keep from caressing him. Her head was thick, as if her mind swam in a bowl of jelly.
“How is it that you gain everyone’s love the moment you meet them?” he asked her. “I have tried for years to . . .”
“To what, my lord?”
“Never mind.” He had reached the first floor.
Belle let her lips, resting so close to his neck, brush against his skin. He sucked in a sharp breath as she savored the warmth of his skin.
He groaned. “Stop that,” he said in a low, harsh growl, and strode along the hallway in long strides, practically running.
“Oh, my lady,” Mendal cried and rushed to meet them. She must have heard Lord Terrance’s heavy strides and come out to see what was happening.
“Your lady needs to reach her room,” Lord Terrance said. “Ready her bed.”
The maid gave another cry and ran to do as he bade.
“Phillip, see the doctor is summoned. And show Winfield out.”
In short order, Lord Terrance saw to it that Belle was ensconced under her sheets, her injured foot raised and awaiting the physician’s inspection. He then left without another word.
When the doctor arrived, he duly inspected Belle’s ankle and her side and confirmed her sprain and bruises were the result of her fall. He prescribed plenty of rest and departed.
She was glad to see him leave, worried he might want to bleed her, as so many in his profession did to patients at the slightest sign of illness. She had forbidden anyone from doing that to her grandfather.
She frowned at the thought. Her grandpapa had yet to reply to any of her missives. But then he was a poor letter writer. How did he fare all alone without her to care for him? She wanted to see him and make sure he was well, but until she resolved her dilemma with the ghost, she could not leave Clearview. And the ghost seemed in no hurry to depart until he—or now Belle—found his traitor.
She shivered and lay on her good side, remembering again the ghost’s cold grip.
As if sensing Belle needed comfort, Lady Sefton shifted in her cage and hooted softly in her throat. Earnest then jumped up on the bed and lay down, his body heavy and warm against her back.
Belle sighed and closed her eyes. Tomorrow, she would worry about the ghost, the ball, and the manor house. All she wanted was to relive being carried in Lord Terrance’s arms. If they had been alone, would he have responded to her kiss against his neck?
A smile stretched her lips as her thoughts drifted off into a satisfying dream in accompaniment to the dog’s deep, steady breathing and the owl’s soft stirrings.
DESPITE A WEEK having passed since her injury, Belle was still not completely healed. She could do naught but sit and let everyone else arrange the upcoming ball, which was now set for Tuesday, the fifteenth day of December. This, Mrs. Jones had said, would give ample time for their guests to return to their home for Christmas, if they so desired.
Belle, frustrated by her injury, could do no more than lounge on the luxurious Grecian couch in the drawing room, while all the activity in preparation for the ball whirled about her.
She could not even discuss her worries about Mr. Winfiel
d with anyone, because her main source of knowledge came from a ghostly encounter, which she could not talk about, and Earnest’s instinctive dislike of Winfield, which could hardly be presented as evidence before a court of law.
She had learned a little something about the man from Mendal after she sent her to speak to the servants about him. Apparently, Winfield had been a childhood friend of Lord Terrance, but they were no longer friendly. No one knew what happened to end their friendship. Winfield had an elderly mother who lived with him, and he was hard-fisted when it came to paying his servants. None of which pointed to the man being a traitor to England.
As for the ball, that progressed better than Belle’s investigation. Invitations had been written, and the Royal Mail carried summons to friends and family as far away as London, while servants hand-delivered invitations to the local gentry. The vicar, happiest to hear that the celebrations also included the villagers, agreed to carry the word to his parishioners.
On the morning of Friday, the twenty-seventh day of November, Belle, Mrs. Jones, and Lord Terrance were assembled in the drawing room when Susie ran in to complain that she did not feel comfortable visiting the village by herself for her dress fittings.
Her mother, busy working with the housekeeper, could not be convinced to chaperone her, and Belle, in her invalid state, was useless as well.
Belle hid her grin at Susie’s mournful tone. Lord Terrance caught her glance and smiled too.
“I would be willing to accompany you,” Mrs. Jones said. “I have some experience in the matter of ball gowns.”
The offer sent her niece into tears, and then Susie gave her brother an anguished look before she rushed out.
“Well!” Mrs. Jones said in a huff. “I cannot help worrying that the child will not take during the Season. Not if she continues to react in such a missish manner.”
“The invitations included members of the Ton, and that might have put her in a pucker,” Belle suggested. “Susie likely hoped to ease her entry into their midst by practicing her debut with the local gentry with whom she is more familiar.”
A Beastly Scandal Page 20