by Amelia Grey
Feeling confident in that thought, Olivia said, “Well, when I meet the earl, Auntie, I shall be sure to give him wide space and leave plenty of room for all the ladies who want his attention, because the only man whom I want to claim my attention is back in Kent.”
“Agatha Loudermilk, by all the saints in heaven, why have you waited so long to return to London?”
Olivia glanced up to see a petite lady rushing toward them as they made it to the bottom step of the doorway. Her silver hair was arranged high on top of her head and threaded with tiny ribbons and flowers. The woman’s dark eyes jumped with excitement and a big smile stretched across her aged face.
Agatha reached out her arms and engulfed the petite woman in an affectionate but delicate hug. “I finally had a reason to return.”
“Yes, I heard you’re sponsoring your grandniece for the Season, but I also hope you came to see old friends like me.”
“Without a doubt.”
“I’m so happy you could attend my grandnephew’s party tonight, but we must get together just the two of us so we can remember old times. Why haven’t you set a date for us to get together?”
“You know I’ve been trying to get settled. We will get together soon, Claudette, and thank you for the invitation for tonight’s soiree. My, but you are as youthful as when you were presented at court.”
“Thank you, my dear friend. I’m always trying new creams from this wonderful new apothecary that hasn’t been in London very long. This shop has a potion for everything. Perhaps one of them has finally started working.”
The two ladies laughed for a few moments before Aunt Agatha said, “I have someone I want you to meet. This is my niece, Olivia Banning. Olivia, this is one of my dearest friends for many years, the Viscountess Collingsworth.”
“How do you do, Viscountess?” Olivia curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve often heard Aunt Agatha speak of you.”
“And I’ll wager not a word of it was good.”
Olivia laughed lightly. “On the contrary, all of it was good, and I’m sure all of it was true.”
“In that case, I’ll mind my manners and try not to disappoint you.”
Suddenly there was a loud crash of something breaking.
Olivia, Agatha, and the viscountess looked inside the house and saw a shattered china urn on the floor, perilously close to the feet of the earl.
Shocked gasps, shrieks, and ohs continued to rumble throughout the crowd like a wave rushing to the shore.
“Did you see that?” someone said. “Blasted thing almost hit Dugdale.”
“How did it fall? There’s no one on the landing,” another person offered.
“Merciful heavens,” the viscountess said in a breathless voice as she flipped open her fan and started patting her chest with it. “How could this be? Excuse me, I must check on what happened.”
Olivia, her aunt, and several others stepped up closer to look inside the house. A horseshoe landing rose above the foyer and a decorative shelf extended out from the railing. On one side of the ledge sat an urn that matched the broken one on the floor.
As the viscountess hurried inside, Olivia heard her aunt whisper, “It’s Lord Pinkwater’s ghost. He’s trying to tell me he’s here in this house.”
“Auntie, not so loud,” Olivia admonished quietly. But it was too late. Someone had heard her aunt’s whispered words.
“A ghost knocked over the urn?” a lady cried out into the hushed crowd.
“Did someone say there’s a ghost?” another person asked.
Stunned gasps raced throughout the crowd again and suddenly Lord Dugdale was surrounded by people clamoring with concern.
Olivia couldn’t see him over the chattering group, but she heard him when he spoke reassuringly and said, “Quiet, everyone. Listen to me. There is no cause for alarm. I’m sure a few of you would like to believe it was a ghost who made the urn fall, but—”
“What else could have caused it?” someone from inside interrupted him.
“Look for yourself, my lord. It’s clear there’s nobody up on the landing,” another person said.
“This incident was only an accident caused by an employee who failed to place the urn securely on the shelf,” Lord Dugdale assured the man. “Let’s all get something to eat and drink. The dancing will begin shortly.”
Olivia watched the crowd follow the earl into his front room before looking back at her aunt, who seemed wide-eyed and frozen by the mishap.
“See, Auntie, a careless servant put the urn too close to the edge and it fell off,” she spoke softly and calmingly. “It was not a ghost.”
Agatha stared into Olivia’s eyes. “No, it wasn’t an accident. It was Lord Pinkwater’s ghost. I’m sure of it. You heard someone say there was no one on the landing who could have pushed the urn off. He’s here, Livy. This is the house. I must go inside and find him.”
Where a few minutes before Olivia was uncomfortably warm, now she felt suddenly chilled. “What exactly do you mean, find him?”
“I told you I would know when I felt his presence. That urn was a sign to me that he’s here. I’m going to search every room in that house until he makes himself known to me.”
Olivia stopped her aunt. “But what makes you so sure Lord Dugdale will allow you to look through his rooms?”
Her aunt took a step back and looked at her as if she were mad. “I don’t plan to ask for permission.”
Olivia was startled by Agatha’s statement and her unease grew. “What do you plan to do? There are close to one hundred people in there.”
“Oh, I won’t let them bother me. Besides, I think most ghosts live in bedchambers or perhaps in the attic. I’ll search both.”
A strong feeling of protectiveness overcame Olivia. She was afraid Agatha would do something imprudent and get herself thrown out of the party, out of the ton, and out of London.
Olivia had to do something quickly.
“You can’t search this man’s bedchambers and his attic.”
“Of course I can. What I must not do is get caught doing it.”
Suddenly Olivia could see her aunt’s irreproachable reputation changing to that of a mad old lady searching private homes for a ghost. Except for Olivia, all Agatha had was her spotless reputation. Olivia wouldn’t let that be tainted if she could help it. She wouldn’t let her aunt be rejected by a Society that had once and obviously still thought so highly of her.
“I’ll do it for you, Auntie,” she said, fearing what she might be getting into but knowing she had no choice if she wanted to keep everyone from learning that Agatha was searching for a ghost.
“What?”
“I’ll search the house for you.”
Her aunt’s eyes widened. “You can’t. I won’t hear of it. Your reputation would be ruined if you were caught snooping through the earl’s house.”
“I won’t get caught. I move faster than you do. Besides, if I’m seen, I’ll merely say I was looking for the retiring room and lost my way.”
Her aunt looked at her as if she had gone mad. “That still won’t work, Livy. Lord Pinkwater wants to talk to me, not you. He won’t show himself to you.”
“He will know that I’m acting as your emissary. He will sense that in me,” Olivia said, making up her thoughts as she talked. “I don’t know how it all works, but ghosts can read our minds and they know about these kinds of things.”
Maybe I am the one who is batty!
Agatha’s brow lifted. “They do?”
“Yes, I read about it in a book,” Olivia said, stretching the truth a little further than she probably needed to, considering the confused expression on her aunt’s face.
“Which book? I don’t recall it.”
“I don’t remember exactly, as there are so many books that have information about ghosts in them, and it’s not important
right now anyway.” Olivia took a deep calming breath and then said, “It’s just better for me to do this than you. I’m the one who will go upstairs and search all the rooms. I will let you know if I feel his presence.”
Her aunt smiled sweetly at her. “You would do that for me?”
Olivia nodded and gave her an affectionate smile. “Of course. Now, you’ve been standing too long. Let’s go inside. I’ll get you something to drink and see you to a chair where you can listen to the music and then”—she paused, as she needed to swallow the lump in her throat—“and then I will search the house for Lord Pinkwater’s ghost.”
***
An hour later, a runner of fine carpet muffled Olivia’s steps as she left the ladies’ retiring room and tiptoed down the brightly lit corridor. Her heart pounded with uncertainties in her chest, but she forced herself to remain collected. The area seemed to stretch forever toward the closed door at the end of the corridor.
Olivia was not looking forward to walking down it because she was invading her host’s privacy, not a very honorable thing to do.
The room set aside for the ladies to refresh themselves was one of the bedchambers. From her quick assessment of the vicinity it appeared there was only one other room on the floor. She had reason to believe that what lay behind the door at the other end was also a sleeping room.
Olivia wondered why she’d told her aunt she would search the house for a ghost. It was insane. Why had she even agreed to come to London on this ill-fated mission? She should be in her own hometown waiting for the shy Mr. Yost to ask her to dance. Instead she was in a handsome earl’s house searching for a phantom that probably didn’t exist.
She had no fear of actually finding a ghost, but had to glance in each room. That way she could look Aunt Agatha in the eyes and in all good faith say that Lord Pinkwater’s ghost was not in this house.
When Olivia made it to the end of the corridor she glanced back. All was quiet, but it wouldn’t be for long, as ladies were continuously coming and going from their designated room.
She took a deep breath and placed her hand on the door knob and slowly turned, then pushed the door open just a crack and listened. No noise came from inside the room. She looked behind her again and then opened the door a little farther so that she could stick her head around the door and sneak a quick peek inside.
Light from the corridor sliced into the room, shooting a beam of brightness across the floor. A tall tester bed stood against the far wall. The draperies, canopy, and coverlet were a rich burgundy-colored fabric trimmed with short, gold bullion fringe. Her gaze darted past the luxuriously appointed bed to a tall, mahogany dressing table where a lamp burned low. Glowing embers smoldered in the fireplace along the back wall.
There was a warmth in the room that called to her until Olivia heard voices coming up the stairs behind her. A chill flew down her spine and her heart jumped to her throat. For an instant she was panic-stricken. If she was caught she could never explain this rude intrusion.
Did she have time to shut the door and get down the hallway to the retiring room? If she didn’t make it she could say she was confused about which room was for the ladies.
Moments seemed to tick by while she considered what to do. The voices grew closer.
With no time for further thought, she quickly dashed inside the bedchamber and quietly shut the door. She leaned against it, closing her eyes, not daring to breathe, and waited for the voices to fade away while she calmed her racing heart.
When the corridor was quiet once more she took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and stepped away from the door. Her gaze scanned the handsomely decorated room. It appeared to be the sleeping quarters of the master of the house.
A shiver of curiosity raced through her.
Olivia knew she should leave at once, but she suddenly felt no inclination to do so. She was fairly certain she didn’t believe in ghosts, but something strange, something she didn’t understand, was pulling her farther into the room, beckoning her to take a closer look at the forbidden.
Perhaps it was mere curiosity because she’d never been in a man’s private chamber before. All she knew was that now she was inside, she couldn’t resist the temptation to admire the earl’s room.
She slowly made her way over to the bed and placed her hand on the burgundy fabric of the coverlet. It was cool to her touch and the grade of cloth so fine it felt almost silky. The pillows at the head of the bed were large and inviting to slumber.
Feeling more at ease the longer she stayed, she walked over to the pillowy-stuffed wing chair that was upholstered in linen. It looked so comfortable that she sat down and lifted her feet off the floor, swinging them as if she were dipping them into a cold stream on a hot afternoon.
Olivia laid her head against the soft cushion and her mind drifted back to when the earl’s gaze caught hers as she stood in line. Her breasts tightened as she remembered how his intrusive stare had sent unexpected tremors of awareness low in her abdomen.
Shaking off those unwanted feelings, she rose and walked over to the exquisitely carved dresser with a square looking glass. In the center of the marble top a copper basin glimmered appealingly, glowing like alabaster in the soft light from the low-burning oil lamp.
To one side of the basin lay an ivory-handled hair brush, a short fat bottle filled with liquid, and a small saucer holding some coins. On the other side rested a china dish with a block of soap lying in it and a stand that held a shaving brush.
Olivia picked up the bottle and inhaled. It smelled of musky, mint-scented water. She smiled. It was masculine, yet heavenly pleasing to her senses.
Is this how the earl smells?
She put the bottle down and picked up the soap. Cupping it with both hands, she put it to her nose. It held the same fresh, clean scent of mint. She closed her eyes and breathed in heavily again.
“What the devil are you doing?”
Startled, Olivia jumped and dropped the bar of soap onto the dresser. It hit the copper basin with a loud clanging noise that seemed to reverberate throughout the room.
“Oh, heavens above, you startled the living daylights out of me,” she said as she fumbled for the soap and quickly put it back into its proper place before looking back at the earl.
Leaving the door ajar, he walked farther into the room. “You’re startled? Imagine how I feel finding a young lady in my bedchamber.”
She felt her cheeks flame red. Oh why had she let the urge to explore his room overcome her? A quick peek was all she needed to satisfy her aunt. What madness, what folly had controlled her? The worst possible thing had happened. She had been caught.
“I was just—” She stopped. What could she tell him? The truth?
No. He’ll think I’m doddering or insane. And maybe I am for not leaving when I had the chance.
She had made her aunt promise not to mention their mission to anyone and she couldn’t either. Could she?
“Go on. You were what? Looking over my things? Perhaps planning to steal a few items?”
His implication was clear and she didn’t like it.
“Of course not,” she said indignantly, trying not to be frightened by his accusation or the dangerous way he advanced on her.
His hard gaze strayed to the items on the dresser before settling on her face once again. “Were you looking for jewelry or some coins to hide in your handkerchief?”
“I’m not a thief!”
As soon as she said that she realized how laughable that sounded considering the fact she was in his private chamber looking over his intimate belongings. What else could he possibly think?
He lifted a skeptical brow. “Then why are you in here?”
Which would she rather he believe, that she was looking over the items in his room hoping to steal something from him or that she had taken leave of her good senses?
Suddenl
y Olivia blurted, “If you must know, I was looking for a ghost.”
Three
Olivia cringed inwardly. Right now she wished she were a ghost so she could vanish through the walls and never be seen again.
She couldn’t recall a time in her life when she had ever been flustered, but this man had her close to it, and in less than two minutes of being in his presence.
How was she going to get out of this with some of her dignity intact?
His dark, honey-colored eyes narrowed just enough to show his disapproval as his gaze swept up and down her body. A chilling expression eased over his face and Olivia knew she was in real trouble for the first time in her life.
Taking a deep breath, she knew she must remain strong and not cower or all was lost.
His posture was proud and erect as he walked closer to her and asked, “You were looking for what?”
Olivia wasn’t sure she liked the way his gaze took in every detail of her face as he quickly closed the short distance between them. He was too close. The intensity of his expression did confounding things to the throbbing of her heartbeat.
She had no choice but to follow through now that she had unexpectedly divulged the truth. She just had to keep her aunt’s name out of her confession.
“I was looking for Lord Pinkwater’s ghost.”
His voice was as chilling as his expression when in a husky whisper he asked, “In my bedchamber?”
“It is the place most ghosts reside, isn’t it?” she challenged him and wondered why she did so when she was in a perilously difficult position.
She was a sensible woman. Why didn’t she just ask his pardon and make a hasty retreat all the way back to Kent? And pray she never saw the handsome earl again?
“I wouldn’t have any idea about where ghosts dwell. I’ve never looked for one.”
Olivia wanted to fend off his deliberate stare with one of her own but his physical presence in the room prevented her from doing so. His tall body used up the space, filling the softly lit area, and making her knees uncommonly weak.
A shivery awareness stole over her. Her body and her mind were completely responsive to Andrew Terwillger, the Earl of Dugdale.