Deborah Simmons

by The Last Rogue

  The thought of tomorrow’s work made Jane consider her rest, but the possibility of further noises kept her alert. An attempt to read Hannah More’s prose proved fruitless, because the rattling of the casements made her cock her head, listening for something else until she caught herself in annoyance.

  Nonsense! She was made of sterner stuff! Placing her book firmly aside, Jane decided that she could not hide like a child from a unknown danger. No doubt Raleigh was right, and a railing was loose that would have to be fixed by a carpenter, if only they could coax one to Craven Hall.

  In fact, the Hall’s very reputation worked against her theory, for if no one would come near it, who could possibly be wandering around at night, hooting like a banshee? Telling herself that her fears were groundless, Jane blew out the lamp and pulled up a cover, but just as she was reaching for sleep, something stirred her awake.

  Wailing. Loud and eerie and coming from outside, it made Jane sit up straight, for there was no mistaking the clamor this time. Pausing only to put on her spectacles, she slid from bed and went to the window, where she saw a rather odd light not far from the house. Knowing there was nothing but vast, empty moor in that direction, Jane wondered if the perpetrator was carrying a lantern to light his path. Perhaps he had found the upper rooms too dangerous a place in which to clank his chains.

  Her mouth pursing in disapproval, Jane reached for her dressing gown and wrapped it about her angrily. Whoever was playing these tricks upon them ought to be throttled! Surely there was a local magistrate or sheriff who could do something! With that thought in mind, Jane slipped through the propped door into Raleigh’s chamber, where she found her husband standing by his own window.

  He was wearing the banyan she had seen before, but it looked different somehow in the darkness, the thin moonlight barely illuminating his tall form. Jane’s brusque greeting was cut off when he turned, and for a moment she forgot why she had come. His hair glinting in a stray moonbeam, his face cloaked in shadow, Raleigh became a mysterious figure, and her heart began pounding fitfully.

  “Did you hear it?” he asked, his practical question jarring her from her daze.

  “Yes,” Jane answered, more breathlessly than she might have liked. Now that she was here with him, she felt rather foolish. “Perhaps one of the new servants—”

  Raleigh cut her off with a wave of his hand. “They are ensconced in their makeshift rooms in the cellar. Besides, I doubt if even the hardiest of farmers would tread the moors at night. Look!”

  He motioned to the window and Jane stepped toward him, acutely aware of his closeness, of her heightened senses in the darkness, of her racing pulse and the scent of Raleigh, at once powerfully male and endearingly familiar. Her hands trembling, Jane clasped them together and forced her attention out of doors, where the strange glow could be seen. “But it must be someone with a lantern. What else could it be?” she asked.

  “If so, the person is still, for it does not bob or weave, although it does waver with the wind.” The voice beside her was the same pleasant one belonging to the indolent coxcomb she had known for years, yet Jane felt her skin tingle at the thread of excitement in that usual careless drawl. “Does it look unusual to you?” he asked.

  Trying to ignore the heady nearness of him, Jane leaned over the casement, but even with her spectacles, she could not see very well in the blackness. “Not from here,” she said, squinting.

  “Then let’s go down to the back of the house and try to get a better look,” Raleigh said.

  Although horrified by the suggestion, Jane found her husband’s tone so seductive that her protest died on her lips. Would she agree to anything here beside him in the darkness? Pushing away the thought, Jane tried to be practical. Perhaps whoever was out there was in trouble. “Very well. Let me put on my slippers,” she said.

  “Can you find them without the lamp? I do not want to rouse attention,” Raleigh explained. He had turned to look at her, and his face was so close that Jane wanted to reach up and touch it, to assure herself that it was real. Far more unbelievable than any ghostly moans was the fact that she was here in Raleigh’s bedroom, but a breath away from his handsome features, caressed by the moonlight.

  He waited, gazing down at her, until Jane rallied her resources and nodded stupidly.

  “That’s a love,” he said softly, nearly undoing her hard-won composure with just a whisper. Then, taking her hand, he guided her back into her own room. But as soon as they were inside, Jane loosed her fingers from his grasp on the pretext of putting on her slippers. In truth, the caress of his bare skin, warm and compelling, made her so giddy she could not concentrate. Taking a deep breath, she headed toward the door to the passage.

  “Follow me, for I know the way in the dark,” she said. She had hoped to avoid his touch if she went ahead, but Raleigh was all around her, bumping into her back, brushing against her, whispering directions to her, and Jane felt as if he had invaded her very being. At one point, stuck before him against a door that was difficult to open, she wanted to turn and throw her arms around him, pressing her body against his shamelessly.

  Fortunately for her, Raleigh seemed to be intent solely upon the light and wholly unaware of her and her ridiculous yearnings. Although Jane could only be grateful that he at least was able to keep his mind on the mysterious disturbances, she could not help feeling the old resentment. Even in her nightclothes, she could not garner Raleigh’s attention, and the realization both stung and annoyed her. Would that she could do something to make him notice her!

  Her cheeks flaming at such wayward impulses, Jane stepped aside as he pushed the screeching wood free and then they were near the rear entrance. Raleigh pushed aside a tattered, dusty drape and peeked through. “Demned windows are so dirty, I can’t see a thing,” he said, barely glancing her way. “Let’s go out.”

  Alarmed, Jane hesitated. She told herself that someone might be in danger out there, but what if they were the ones in danger? Although she had begun to see Raleigh differently of late, she did not feel the viscount would be much protection against some ruffians bent on mischief. Thieves, smugglers, wreckers and every sort of criminal came to mind, as did the memory of Charlotte’s kidnapping.

  But Raleigh was already moving forward into the overgrown garden, which did not look nearly as salvageable or romantic in the darkness as it had during the day. Weeds loomed and rustled ominously in the breeze, and though it was warm, Jane wrapped her arms around herself, uncertain and vulnerable in the open expanse.

  “Here,” Raleigh whispered, and Jane hurried as best she could over the crumbled old stones. Where was he going? And why was she following? Just as Jane had nearly convinced herself to turn and flee, he pulled her with him behind one of the gnarled old oaks. “Look!” he said, and Jane did, only to shriek aloud at what she saw.

  A skull—a large, glowing human death’s head—was grinning at them from the blackness. Although she could see no skeleton attached to it, it hung in midair, eyes yellow and ghoulish and terrible, its mouth gaping open. Breathless with horror, Jane clasped her throat, unable to utter another sound. She would have turned and fled, but she could not even move.

  “I say, look at that, will you?” Raleigh said beside her in a hushed voice, and Jane would have struck him, if she could have stirred her frozen limbs. How could he be so casual about it, as if they were discussing the weather and not a frightful apparition? But apparently nothing roused Raleigh from his casual ease, not even such a ghastly visage.

  As Jane stood staring, rooted to the spot, a gust of wind tugged at her robe and the ghostly skull disappeared, right before her eyes, as if it had never been there at all. Blinking, she felt suddenly weak, and though she had never swooned before in her life, the possibility loomed before her. She reached out a hand, blindly, for support, but Raleigh seemed wholly unaffected. He made that odd humming noise that indicated his interest and took a step forward.

  Frantically, Jane clutched his banyan, holding him back,
for even in her state of terror, she possessed enough sense not to chase after the dreadful bodyless head. “Oh, no! Do not!” she pleaded. For all his faults, Jane did not want anything to happen to Raleigh, and suddenly it was very important that she keep him by her side, safe from harm.

  “Now, Jane, you’re the sensible one. You know as well as I that there must be a logical explanation,” he drawled.

  Instead of calming her, his utter lack of agitation was maddening. “There can be no explanation for that!” Jane whispered raggedly, lifting her arm to point toward where the skull had been. Her husband’s soft chuckle did nothing to appease her as he moved forward. Unwilling to be left alone, Jane did not hesitate, but grabbed a handful of banyan and followed. Would they both be drawn down into the netherworld? Was her marriage to end like this? Jane’s heart plummeted to her toes with both dread and disappointment.

  “Hmm. Just as I thought.”

  Raleigh’s voice was its usual light caress in the darkness, and Jane wanted to throw her arms around his chest and hang on for dear life. She was behind him, still clinging to a fistful of material, but when she felt his arm reach forward, she did just that. Releasing her hold on the fabric, she wrapped both of her arms around his waist, and laid her cheek against his back. He felt so solid, a warm anchor of muscle and strength such as she would never have associated with the fop she knew.

  “Hmm, Jane, love…” Jane heard the subtle change in his voice, slower and husky, and it made her abruptly aware of just what she was doing. Her stomach was pressed into his hard buttocks, her palm against his flat abdomen, and though some part of her wanted to remain there forever, she let go immediately, her fears for her person forgotten in a new, deeper awareness.

  When she released him, Raleigh turned slightly. “I say, look at this,” he said, holding up a human skull in one hand. Starting, Jane shrieked once more and took a step back.

  “No need to wail, love. This fellow’s been gone a long time, but see, he was cleverly placed atop this old post.” Although Jane could make out little in the darkness, Raleigh thumped his left hand on wood, assuring her of the existence of a nearby tree stump. “That made him appear to be standing or floating, and a candle inside made his eyes bright. When the wind blew it out, as was inevitable on this ghastly moor, he appeared to disappear.”

  Swallowing hard, Jane flushed at her own foolishness, though her heart was still beating raggedly after her fright.

  “By Jove,” Raleigh said suddenly. “Why does this all seem so familiar?” He paused, as if in thought, while Jane fidgeted beside him. Her brothers had played enough tricks upon her that she should not have been so gullible. When she thought of how she had embraced her husband in the throes of terror, she wanted to disappear herself.

  “I have it!” Raleigh said. “I just read about a glowing skull in Prudence’s new book!”

  Jane’s embarrassment fled at his words, and she looked up at him intently. “The one you can’t find,” she said, as understanding dawned. Someone had endeavored to enact for their benefit, one of the ghostly happenings from the gothic novel. But why?

  “Come, Jane, let us get well inside.” Taking her hand, Raleigh pulled her toward the rear of the house with what, for him, constituted unusual haste.

  “Why are we hurrying?” Jane asked when they reached the door and slipped back into the Hall. Breathless, more from her husband’s touch than the rush, she pulled away from him and paused to rest her back against the wall of the darkened room. So little light penetrated that she felt at once disoriented and strangely removed from herself. The Jane she had always recognized as herself did not race around in her dressing gown, having adventures in the middle of the night.

  “Because, Jane, love, we have a bit of a mystery on our hands,” Raleigh said. “I have no doubt that the skull was lying around here, part of old Cornelius’s motley collection until the enterprising soul who took Prudence’s book got the idea to use it for more nefarious purposes.”

  Jane wanted to protest such an outlandish accusation, but she could not deny that someone had gone to great lengths to trick them—and not only tonight. Obviously, someone had been creeping around at night wailing and rattling chains. “But why would anyone do it?” she asked with growing unease. Craven Hall was her project, and she did not like the idea of such shenanigans hampering her efforts. Unfortunately, Raleigh’s next words did little to comfort her, and she shivered in the thick blackness of the cluttered room as he spoke lightly of dark intents.

  “To scare us off, Jane, love,” Raleigh drawled with his usual carelessness. “Someone wants to be rid of us, but why?”

  * * *

  Jane poked at her breakfast desultorily. The hearty fare supplied from a local farm had been well prepared by one of the new servants, but oddly enough, her appetite seemed to have disappeared. She hadn’t slept, either, though the blame for that lack could hardly be placed upon herself.

  It was all Raleigh’s fault.

  After their bizarre excursion into the garden, he had insisted upon staying with her—for her own protection. He reminded her of the isolation of the Hall, its many entrances and unexplored areas, and insisted with uncommon tenacity that he sit by her bed. It was all terribly awkward, more harrowing, in fact, than the ghostly apparition.

  Although Jane denied the need for such precautions, Raleigh was adamant, and simply did what he wanted, leaving her no choice in the matter. In the glaring light of day, Jane wondered how she could have allowed it, and she rued her lack of resolve with renewed vigor, for no one had broken down the door or even rattled any chains overhead; the trickery for the night had been concluded, apparently, with the glowing skull. Meanwhile, Jane had been forced to lie there, knowing that Raleigh was but a short distance away. He wore his banyan, of course, but she could not overlook the fact that he was naked beneath it, nor the wild hammering of her heart at the thought.

  She had wanted to invite him into her bed, and such wayward impulses had plagued until she wondered if she had gone mad. Worse yet, soon Raleigh’s even breathing had told her that he slept, blissfully unaware of her turmoil. Carelessly lounging in a heavy armchair, his head back, he had appeared perfectly at ease, despite his hard berth, and had remained there all night.

  Nodding off sometime around dawn, Jane had awoken early, bleary-eyed and bitter. She resented the way her husband kept intruding into her thoughts and the odd notions his very presence seemed to foster. It was as if she were no longer in control of her own impulses, and Jane was nothing if not controlled.

  Pushing away her plate, she vowed to ignore both Raleigh and the strange goings-on at Craven Hall and throw herself firmly into its rehabilitation. Unfortunately, the new servants did not seem to share her enthusiasm. They appeared anxious and wary, making Jane wonder if they had been disturbed during the night as well.

  Loath to broach the subject, she did not ask, but tackled the sitting room with renewed energy, yanking down the worn draperies as energetically as if they were some of Raleigh’s perfect coats. It was only when all the ugly, brown material was lying on the floor that she noticed the beautiful windows they had been hiding.

  Diamond-shaped panes rose nearly from floor to ceiling, and in the center was some sort of coat of arms in stained glass. Although covered with years of grime, the colors still sparkled gamely, and Jane stepped back in admiration. “Oh, what a find! What a lovely find!” she said aloud, too excited to contain herself.

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Stiffening at the sound of her husband’s drawl, Jane turned, only to flush as she found his gaze not upon the windows, but herself. Why did she have the odd impression he was referring to something else entirely? Lifting her chin, Jane motioned toward the windows. “See what hidden treasures can be found at Craven Hall?” she asked, daring him to dispute her.

  “Indeed, I am just realizing the extent of my good fortune,” Raleigh noted softly, once more seeming to allude to anything but the Hall itself. He was ey
eing her in a speculative fashion that Jane found most uncomfortable, and she resolved to return to her task before he discomposed her further. Leaning over to gather the discarded drapes, she heard him clear his throat.

  “I wish you would tell the servants to do such work,” he said, making her pause.

  Lifting her head, Jane was disconcerted to find Raleigh’s attention focused rather intently upon her derriere. She straightened only to see him glance away as faint color climbed into his perfect cheeks. Was her husband actually blushing? A strange, tickling thrill began in the depths of her being.

  He began strolling about to inspect the room, but his casual interest seeming more mannered than usual, and Jane watched him curiously even as she cursed her growing awareness of him. He looked so dashing today in his deep plum-colored coat and buff breeches that he nearly took her breath away.

  Halting before a jumble of half-opened crates, he turned toward her once more. “Have you seen any skeletons with one vital missing piece?” he asked, the corners of his mouth drawing up in a sardonic smile.

  “A neighbor’s attempt at a jest,” Jane said, dismissively as she piled the drapes near the doorway. Somehow last night’s whole nightmarish episode had taken on an air of unreality, and Raleigh’s subsequent guardianship seemed an extreme reaction in retrospect.

  “I think our ghoul has gone beyond the amusing,” Raleigh said. “And as much as I regret going against your wishes, Jane, I feel that I cannot allow her continued access to this household, for the protection of those who dwell here.”

  “Surely you do not think Mrs. Graves responsible?” Jane cried, dropping her bundle.

  “Jane, we don’t exactly have a great many suspects here,” Raleigh answered lightly. “And the housekeeper has made it clear that she dislikes any disruption in her…routine.”