Wanted: Ghost-Busting Bride

  Determined not to give Desdemona an opening, she tapped John on the arm. “Who’s that dancing with Markham?”

  John’s dark curly hair flopped into his eyes as he spun to face her.

  “Kailyn!” He enveloped her in a hug. “You look gorgeous.”

  “Thank you for setting me up in this mess.”

  John stepped back at the lethal tone in her voice. Immediately, the slim brunette next to him held out her hand. “I’m Mari Wentworth, Spencer’s chief financial officer. And to answer your question, that ornament Spencer is dancing with is Francine Vaughn. She’s the most sought-after heiress in England.”

  Kailyn cringed but shook the woman’s hand. So this must be the jilted fiancée Basil had mentioned. How was she supposed to avoid jealous thoughts about the gorgeous woman? The one who wanted Spencer back in London without his wife. The tall, willowy brunette was everything a countess ought to be. Everything Kailyn wasn’t.

  Mari’s hair fell into gorgeous waves framing her porcelain complexion. Her rose-colored gown was the perfect mix of sophistication and femininity. She appeared at home in this large crowd, greeting the members of high society that Kailyn preferred to avoid.

  “I hear you were once engaged to Markham.”

  Startled, Markham’s CFO laughed nervously. “Ah, yes. But thankfully I escaped, while you’ve been thrown to the wolves.”

  “Now Mari,” John moved slightly to block Kailyn’s view of his date.

  It wasn’t Mari’s remark that surprised Kailyn, but John’s attempt to stop the conversation. The woman’s refreshing candor sparked her curiosity. Besides, it would serve John right to squirm a little for setting her up with the fake job interview.

  “Are you telling me the Earl of Ryne isn’t a good catch?” She glanced back at the pair still spinning on the dance floor.

  “Don’t get me wrong.” Mari walked around John to stand by Kailyn’s side. “He’s a great boss, but a girl gets tired of being ditched whenever an enticing business contact enters the scene.”

  Markham hadn’t lied when he told her his relationship with Mari was simply business. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that a workaholic like John Martin wouldn’t be satisfied with a business partner less devoted to the firm than he.

  John shrugged, then winked at Mari. “Don’t knock the hard work that pays your salary.”

  Blushing at John’s teasing, Mari leaned close to Kailyn and whispered, “You have your work cut out for you. I’ve never seen Spencer put any woman before his work.”

  “Really? Tell me more.”

  Mari turned her back on John. “Architecture is his only love.”

  Kailyn frowned toward the dancing couple. “He looks like he has plenty of social graces to me.”

  “Don’t put any stake in the attention he has paid you during this house party,” Mari continued. “He’ll turn on the charm when it suits his purpose and forget you exist five minutes later.”

  John shifted uncomfortably. When he opened his mouth to interrupt, Kailyn caught his gaze and narrowed her eyes. He didn’t speak, but the pained expression on his face told her he was looking for an opening to end the conversation.

  “He’s an excellent performer,” Mari’s disgusted tone left no doubt she still felt jilted by Markham. “Just remember, though, all his performances have an ulterior motive. His heart is never involved.”

  “Now Mari,” John stepped between them again. “I’m not sure that’s true. Spencer and Kailyn’s kiss in the middle of the dance floor looked mighty hot to me.”

  Hot maybe. And definitely with the underlying motive of stopping Desdemona. After Mari’s frank assessment, this marriage deal to the workaholic architect should seem perfect. After all she was a workaholic herself.

  She should be jumping for joy that their union wouldn’t involve overwhelming love. If something happened to Markham, she wouldn’t be crushed. Nor would she fall into a black grief nothing but death could end. So why did she feel so beaten down?

  Worried her dark mood would bring Desdemona back, Kailyn ducked out of the ballroom. There had to be a quiet, peaceful place where she could lift her spirits and keep Desdemona out of her head.

  She stepped into an enchanting powder room’s antechamber—the heavy, carved, wooden door shutting out the chaotic noise of the party down the hallway. A threadbare but intricately woven blue rug warmed and muffled her footsteps, and a large gold-framed mirror enhanced the ambiance of the timelessly charming room. A soft blue chaise beyond the fireplace offered the perfect spot to relax.

  Sinking into the comfortable but worn chaise lounge, she shut her eyes and concentrated on the faint strains of music that managed to drift under the door.

  Despite her best effort to relax, worries flooded her mind. Facts, figures and logic—not sentiment—were her strengths. Desdemona’s attacks made her struggle with unfamiliar emotions, and she hated it.

  The sounds of clicking heels and swishing full skirts ended her brief respite. Louise Danforth and Olivia Westbrook swept into the room.

  Kailyn stood, and Louise caught her up in a hug.

  “There you are, dear girl. We can’t begin to tell you how happy we are that Lady Anne chose you as the next countess of Ryne.”

  Olivia patted Kailyn’s shoulder. “You need to know a few facts which will help you adjust to your new role.”

  Had Desdemona sent them? Kailyn scoured the room for any red glow, then checked each woman for signs of the ghost. Seeing nothing threatening, she folded her hands and waited for the lecture.

  Olivia struck a pose that reminded Kailyn of her sister when she gave advice and stated gravely, “Rupert Westbrook allowed Elizabeth Danforth to hoodwink him. Their departure to America brought curses down on both families.”

  Tapping her fingernails on the mantle’s pink marble, Olivia continued. “The Westbrook debt to Ryne will be repaid when the earl marries you and receives the trust fund Rupert Westbrook set up for the return of the token.”

  This got Kailyn’s attention. “What token? What trust fund? Why does it go to the earl?” And how did this new wrinkle fit into Markham’s plans? If Mari was right, he never did anything without a hidden agenda.

  “Before his death, Rupert returned to England long enough to establish a fund to repay Sebastian Markham for stealing Markham’s bride.” Olivia wrung her hands. “Spencer would marry any descendant of Elizabeth’s to get his hands on the millions that have accumulated since the mid-eighteen hundreds. He’s desperate to renovate the castle. You are the only eligible female, so you are his only choice. Through you he can save Ryne. You’re the token.”

  “Use this power,” Louise urged Kailyn. “Make demands before the wedding and get them in writing. After you have produced the requisite heir, he’ll resume his former life.”

  Not sure whether she wanted to thank her relatives for the sage advice or berate them for smearing Markham, Kailyn took a deep breath and went with a diplomatic response. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

  After suffering through another hug from each of her interfering cousins, she now needed to escape the previously inviting room. What was she to believe?

  Her relatives and Mari had certainly painted Markham as a callous, calculating, stonehearted scoundrel out to restore Ryne’s fortunes at any cost to others. But their portrayal didn’t fit the Markham she’d interacted with for the last week.

  Was she so easily duped? Had she let his flirting, his teasing, his intellect, his sexy kisses, his heroic determination to save the Ryne community—and the feel of his arms around her—fog her reason?

  Definitely, yes.

  Disgusted with being so gullible, she headed straight for Markham’s office. While her whacky friend Crystal cooked up crazy ideas, Crystal unmasked people’s characters like a mind reader. Time to call the only expert Kailyn trusted to sort fact from fiction.

  Chapter 20

  Kailyn rushed into the study, not feeling at all guilty about abandon
ing the ball. It was time to get to the bottom of this whole charade right now. Picking up the telephone receiver, she dialed Crystal’s number.

  “All right Crystal, you got me into this.” Kailyn ignored her friend’s burst of laughter. “Throw some light on Markham’s game plan.”

  “Don’t panic because you’ve finally fallen in love. Everything will be just fine.”

  The certainty in her scheming friend’s tone made Kailyn want to scream. No way was she in love with the opportunistic tycoon who simply wanted her to rid his castle of an evil spirit.

  Clenching the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white, she growled, “No, I’m not.”

  “Oh yes you are. Otherwise, you’d be able to figure Markham out yourself.”

  The chuckling on the other end of the line irked the crap out of Kailyn. “How can I figure him out when he’s teasing and flirting with me one minute and the next telling John he can’t wait to get back to work without me?”

  “Has he kissed you?”

  What did that have to do with anything? “We’ve kissed.”

  “Just kissed or KISSED?”

  Did she really have to answer? “Okay, it was that kissed with the capital K. But that doesn’t mean anything with guys.”

  “It means a lot with you, and it means something with Spencer. Mari complained that she got nothing more than a peck from him.”

  Inhaling deeply, Kailyn sat down. If she was honest with herself, their kisses left her hungry for more. Markham’s devious plan to desert her after the wedding hurt so much because she’d committed the unthinkable sin. She’d fallen in love with the jerk.

  “If Markham cares for me, why does he plan to ditch me at Ryne and return to his old life as soon as I rid the castle of Desdemona?”

  “Oh pooh. He’ll drop that crazy idea. All the dimwit needs is a little shove. Seduce him.”

  The lump in Kailyn’s throat threatened to choke her. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

  “I forgot. You’re the One-Date-Wonder. You’ve scared off every eligible man by choosing work over a normal social life.” Crystal’s frustration came through loud and clear. “You certainly wouldn’t lower yourself to flirt with or chase a guy. You probably don’t even know how to catch a man.”

  “You’ve been reading way too many romances,” Kailyn scoffed. “You can’t force someone to love you. If I have to use tricks to get Markham to care about me, it’s not really love.”

  “Give Spencer a chance,” Crystal pleaded. “He’s not a hopeless case, nor is he like the other bozos you dated who didn’t value your brains and ambition.”

  “Sure. He wants me to renovate his castle while he globe-trots with Mari.”

  “You’re just jealous,” Crystal laughed. “Spencer is a really slow learner because of his difficult childhood.”

  “Markham doesn’t need your excuses, Crystal. If he can run an international company, he can certainly handle his private life.”

  “Just listen. His parents fought constantly over money—the lost Ryne treasure, in particular—and his mother’s party-until-you-drop mentality. From his parents’ example, he thinks it’s normal for a husband and wife to go their separate ways.”

  Kailyn felt like screaming but settled for a groan. “If Markham’s ideas are that screwed up, he’d best stay single. If I wanted to marry—which I don’t—I’d expect a true partner who shared all areas of his life with me.”

  She sighed. It’s crazy to argue with Crystal about my love life, or lack of it. I’ve got other concerns. “Tell me everything you know about Lady Anne and Desdemona, so I can settle the ghostly dispute and escape.”

  “You’re making things a lot harder than they need to be,” Crystal snapped. “Find the Countess Chronicles in the east turret desk. Read them. Before you even think about leaving, complete the task Lady Anne assigns you. Love always finds a way.”

  “Yeah. I suppose that’s why you’re not married.” Kailyn hung up the phone with a forceful snap.

  It took her exactly ten minutes to shed her annoying ball gown, slip on her comfy jeans and fish the key to the east turret out of the bottom of her trunk. Racing through the back hallways, she reached the safety of her old room without being spotted by anyone.

  By the time she sat down at the tiny writing desk, an icy resolve had settled over her. She’d uncover whatever information Crystal thought the diaries held, then she’d shape an appropriate strategy and straighten this mess out. After that, she’d be free to job hunt—far, far away from Markham and Martin.

  She flipped open the first volume and stared at its faded print. How in the world did Crystal expect her to decipher this? The ink was barely visible. Plus, the flowery handwriting and archaic words would take a lifetime to unravel.

  Disappointed, Kailyn set aside the slim book. She thumbed through the next three journals and tossed them into the discard pile as well. Finally, she opened a diary with legible handwriting in English she could understand.

  The small volume dated 1812 fell open to a page where Penelope, the Ninth Countess of Ryne, recounted her version of Elizabeth Danforth’s elopement with Rupert Westbrook. Curious to learn the Ryne account of her family history, Kailyn studied the page.

  . . . I am sorry to lay blame on my own son, Thaddeus, but the terrible scandal enveloping Elizabeth and Rupert would never have occurred if Thaddeus had showered as much care and attention on his fiancée as he did on his estates and politics . . .

  Kailyn huffed in disgust. It appeared Markham wasn’t the only earl absorbed with his work. Perhaps the Markham men weren’t capable of love.

  Wiggling into a more comfortable position, she read further.

  . . . For some reason I cannot quite fathom, Elizabeth was incapable of grasping the role of helpmate Thaddeus needed her to accept . . .

  If a woman wasn’t loved by her fiancé, why should she bother to meet his expectations? She applauded her great-great-great-grandmother for not being a doormat. Then she skimmed the next few lines.

  . . . Elizabeth grew withdrawn and sickly when Thaddeus left for an important government meeting in London. Rupert seemed to be the only person who could lift her spirits and tempt her to eat enough to stay alive. I have often wondered how much the propensity of the Westbrook men to engage in risky behavior entered into the tragic affair. Rupert was well known for his neck or nothing riding, his dangerous exploits while driving his fine cattle and his restless wanderings to foreign places. Why Thaddeus allowed his friend to fill Elizabeth’s head with wonderful tales of his travels, I will never comprehend. I am certain that these tales played a role in her elopement with Rupert and their disappearance to America . . .

  Rupert sounded like he’d been a lot more fun than the stuffy Thaddeus. She didn’t blame Elizabeth one bit for her choice. She herself would choose to go with the guy who entertained her, cared about her and wanted to be with her, any day. A man who preferred business over a relationship deserved to be jilted.

  Now eager to discover the aftermath of the elopement from the Ryne side, she continued the passage.

  . . . Lady Anne has seen fit to grace Thaddeus with another chosen one. Miranda is a diamond of the first water and a perfect hostess. She enjoys entertaining and redecorating Ryne Castle. She never creates a fuss and is able to soothe political tempers whenever his guests become divided into factions. While she is sweet in every way, she allows Thaddeus to continue in his obsession with politics and the estate to the detriment of forming a true partnership in marriage. There is no love in their relationship. However, both seem content with the arrangement. The lack of passion between them is a grave concern, even though my second son can provide the heir . . .

  So that’s why the Tenth Earl of Ryne’s history was mediocre. He didn’t fit the success or failure mold she’d read in the little book Crystal had slipped into her suitcase.

  Relief washed over her. Despite all the pressure Crystal and Markham had put on her, Lady Anne could pick another bride
. One who fit Markham’s image of his countess better than she did.

  The book suddenly snapped shut. Then it fell open to the first page.

  She did a double take, but no red or green haze surrounded the diary. Either the ghosts had added new tricks to their arsenal, or she was becoming paranoid. Troubled but intrigued she scanned the page unable to close the book.

  . . . My cousin Bridgette is inconsolable. She has failed Lady Anne’s task to protect her betrothed. Piercy Markham, the Eighth Earl of Ryne, is dead. I am convinced it is not Bridgette’s fault, but Piercy’s. He did not love her no matter how she tried to please him. He chose to escort Jacqueline Howard to the lodge rather than Bridgette. Although Lady Anne summoned Bridgette, my cousin was too late to prevent the traitor from shooting Piercy . . .

  The book fell off Kailyn’s lap. Markham was going to die!

  He didn’t love her. No matter what she did, she wouldn’t be able to save him. She had to get out of here. Now. So Lady Anne could pick someone else—and Spencer would have a chance to live.

  Suddenly unable to breathe, she stumbled back to her room to pack.

  Tears swam in her eyes as she pulled her luggage from the dressing room and opened the trunk. She hated this nightmare. Why would she want to perform Lady Anne’s task when it would kill Markham? The very thought of him dying made her nauseous.

  Swiping away a tear, she grabbed the dresses Mrs. Simms had stripped of Crystal’s hideous trim and dumped them on the bed. She wouldn’t be the cause of Markham’s death. He needed a countess he loved.

  She swallowed the bitter taste of defeat. If Markham had to love her in order to survive, it was time to bow out. Even a miracle worker couldn’t make him fall in love. Her engineering experience hadn’t prepared her to sweet-talk the obstinate man. It didn’t help that he’d swept her off her feet with his playacting, but her love wasn’t enough to ensure Markham’s safety or Desdemona’s defeat. This insane attempt at ghost-busting was a total waste of time.