He had obviously bathed and changed after his ride, for he was respectably, albeit a bit shabbily, attired in a blue morning coat and buff breeches, his hair tied neatly back. The wild pirate was gone, and the scholar/earl firmly in his place.
But Cassie still felt flustered and flushed when he looked at her.
"Good morning, ladies," he said, sitting down in the last vacant chair, the one across from Cassie.
Her fork clattered against her plate, and she had to catch it before it fell to the floor.
He smiled at her. "I trust you all found your first evening at Royce Castle to be comfortable?"
"Yes, quite," Chat answered. "It was all that Melinda has written me over the years. Splendid."
"I slept quite soundly," said Antoinette. "Although next door there were some rather restless noises..."
Cassie kicked her under the table.
"The butler told me you went riding this morning, dear," said Lady Royce. "You were awake unusually early." She turned to Chat and added, "Ordinarily my son is up quite late with his studies and doesn't join me for breakfast."
"It must be the bracing autumn air," he answered, spearing one of the sausages on his plate. "It was a lovely morning for a ride."
"Indeed," said Lady Royce. "Do you ride, Miss Richards?"
Cassie blinked at her, startled to be suddenly addressed. "Yes, Lady Royce. A bit. But I fear I have not had much opportunity for it since I came to England."
"Bath is rather restrictive for poor Cassandra," said Chat.
Cassie smiled at her aunt. "Now, Aunt Chat! I like living in Bath. The theater, the concerts..."
"But very few places for riding," said Chat.
"Perhaps you would care to ride while you are here, then," Lady Royce said. "We have such a nice stable, and Phillip knows all the best paths. I am sure he would enjoy showing them to you."
Then, Lady Royce and Chat exchanged little smiles, and simultaneously lifted their teacups to their lips for demure sips.
Cassie clasped her hands tightly on her lap, twisting her napkin, and looked across the table at Lord Royce. Surely he would refuse to go riding with her, would scoff at his mother's obvious scheming. What would they ever find to talk about on their ride? What could they have in common?
But, to her surprise, he looked rather—amenable.
"Would you care to go riding with me, Miss Richards?" he said, his face smoothly polite.
Would she? Cassie remembered the vision of him she had seen from her window, all dashing and piratical. Then she imagined herself by his side, riding free in the wind, just as she had at home.
Of course she would like to go riding with him, but whether she should was something else. It would be far too easy to forget their differences out there in the sunshine.
And, as she had no intention of falling in love with a man so very serious-minded, forgetting those differences would not be good. She ought to refuse...
"Yes, thank you, Lord Royce," she heard herself say. "I would enjoy that."
He gave her a startled little smile, as if surprised that she had agreed. "Very good. Perhaps we could inspect the stables later and find you a suitable horse."
"After I show them the East Tower, dear," said Lady Royce. "They want to see where poor Louisa's chambers are."
He rolled his eyes a bit. "Of course. And you can play a game of piquet with her while you are there. Do you think she would care for a sherry? There is a fine Amontillado in the cellar."
Obnoxious man! Cassie fumed in her mind, turning her attention back to her plate. And to think she had agreed to go riding with him.
Chapter 7
"This is the East Tower, where Louisa lived," Lady Royce said, unlocking a door and leading them up a narrow staircase. "I seldom come here; with just Phillip and myself in residence there are many rooms that are unused. But I promised you a look at them, so here we are! What do you all think?"
"Very pretty," Chat said.
"Very," agreed Cassie, looking about her. The round tower room was large and high-ceilinged, furnished in the style of almost two hundred years ago, with a massive carved bed and looped draperies at the tall windows. Another portrait hung over the marble fireplace of Louisa and a stern-faced man with long dark hair.
He looked a bit like the current Lord Royce, Cassie thought. She went over to take a closer look.
There was a gilt-framed mirror next to the painting, and Cassie thought she saw a brief flash of blue in the glass. But when she glanced over her shoulder, there was no one there who should not be. Only Aunt Chat and Antoinette, examining some little china figurines while Lady Royce pulled the elaborate draperies back from the windows. None of them were wearing blue.
Oh, really! she thought, with a little irritated tap of her foot. If there was a ghost in here, she wanted very much to see it. Why would it keep running away?
Then she looked back to the portrait, to the man who looked so much like the doubting Lord Royce.
Maybe Louisa had a good reason for hiding after all, if her husband had been half as pigheaded as this Lord Royce. She probably felt one lifetime tolerating him was quite enough.
"Yes, Louisa did have a sad history," Lady Royce sighed, tying back the last of the draperies with their gold cords. "So very lonely, out here all alone."
There was a small sound that echoed in the air like an irritated huff.
"I am surprised she would wish to stay here, then, at the site of her unhappiness," Chat commented uncertainly. "I certainly would wish to move on."
Cassie smiled at her aunt. Chat did not always believe all this business about ghosts, but at least she tried. She did not scoff and make fun, like some people.
Antoinette, who stood beside the bed with one hand on the satin hangings, said, "Perhaps she cannot move on. Perhaps the sad events of her life keep her here. But she is not sad now. And she is interested in our activities."
"She is here, then? In this room?" Lady Royce asked eagerly.
"Oh, yes. Most assuredly." Antoinette closed her eyes and placed her fingertips lightly at her temples. "But she is not sure about showing herself yet. She doesn't wish to be misunderstood, as she was in her life."
The others crowded in closer around her.
"What was misunderstood about her?" Lady Royce whispered.
Antoinette shook her head. "I do not know. My powers are limited without my books and guides, unlike my mother, who could see things very clearly. And the daylight is too harsh."
"But I want to know!" Lady Royce cried. "I want to understand her."
Cassie quite agreed. They only wanted to talk to Louisa, to understand her. And anyone else who might be about.
She thought Louisa was behaving like a little brat.
Antoinette touched Lady Royce's arm reassuringly. "We will soon find out. If you like, we can come back here at night, with my mother's book of incantations. We will discover more then."
Lady Royce and Cassie enthusiastically agreed, even though Chat still looked doubtful. As they left the East Tower and walked back to the inhabited sections of the castle, Antoinette said, "Tell me about Lady Lettice, Lady Royce. The one who has not been seen here of late."
"I fear I do not know much about her," Lady Royce said in a regretful tone. "She has not been seen since my husband's parents' time. She was the daughter of the earl, and served as a maid of honor to Queen Elizabeth. She never married or had children. I do not know why she would come back here after her death, or why she would leave."
"Hmm," Antoinette said, tapping her finger thoughtfully on her chin.
"Do you sense her presence?" Cassie asked.
"Not now," Antoinette answered. "But perhaps later..."
"Oh, there you are," a voice interrupted as they walked past the open door of the library. Lord Royce emerged from the dim depths of the room, like Merlin exiting his cave, and gave them all a polite smile. "You were certainly on your tour a long while."
"There is much to see in the castle,
dear," his mother said. "As you would know, if you did not spend all your time in just this one room."
He laughed. "Well, Mother, you will be glad to know I am going to remedy that. I was just going down to the stables, and wanted to see if Miss Richards would care to accompany me, now that your tour is finished." He turned his lingering smile onto Cassie.
Cassie examined him carefully, his smile and his coolly polite eyes. So, the Doubting Thomas wanted to be hospitable now, did he?
Well, no one could accuse Cassandra Richards of forgetting the lessons her mother had taught her about not being a rude houseguest. She nodded and gave him a smile of her own.
"Thank you, Lord Royce," she said. "I would be happy to come."
Chapter 8
Cassie followed Lord Royce down the pathway that led to the stables. He was very quiet on their walk, and so was she; she wasn't exactly sure what to say to him.
She wondered if he felt like his mother was forcing him into taking her riding, and it made her feel rather awkward.
Awkwardness had been an unaccustomed feeling until she came here. At home, in Jamaica, she had had her share of admirers. Her dance card was always full, and she never seemed to lack for conversation. And even at Aunt Chat's house in Bath, where she often felt shy and strange, she enjoyed the company of the card parties and concerts.
Why did she always feel so tongue-tied and awkward around Lord Royce in particular? He was just a scoffing scholar.
Albeit a handsome one.
Then they turned a bend in the path, and she lost any awkward feeling at the surprise of the beautiful view.
They were at a lower level here than they were at the castle, nearer to the sea. A low stone wall lined the edge of the pathway, where it veered closer to the cliff. Cassie went to lean on the crumbling stone, wide-eyed, as she looked at the vista.
From the castle, the sea was undeniably lovely, but here it was more elemental. She could hear the rush of the waves as they hit the pebbly shore and then receded.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Lord Royce said, coming to stand beside her at the wall.
Cassie smiled up at him, bringing her hand up to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun. "Very beautiful," she answered. At least that they could agree on.
"You sound rather surprised," he said amiably, propping his hip against the wall so that he was half-turned to face her. "I don't spend all my time immured in the library, you know. I do get out once in a while to breathe fresh air."
"And go riding along the cliffs," Cassie murmured. She remembered her vision of him from this morning, galloping along like a wild pirate.
"Yes. Of course." He turned his gaze away from her, back to the sea. "Miss Richards, my mother looks very sweet and harmless, but she can be quite ruthless when she wants something. And she is not above using someone's politeness as a guest to further her own ends. If you really don't want to go riding with me, I will understand. We could tell her you did not find a horse to your liking. I am sure you would prefer to be looking for your ghosts rather than spending time with me."
Cassie turned to him, surprised. "Oh, no! I would like to go riding with you. Unless..." Her voice faltered as a thought struck her. Was he trying to get rid of her? "Unless you have work you must be doing. I would hate to keep you from it."
He gave her a startlingly charming smile. "Nonsense. No one in their right mind would rather be inside working than out in the sunshine with such a lovely companion. The Peloponnesian War can wait until later."
She smiled at him tentatively in return. "Why, Lord Royce. Was that a compliment?"
He laughed. "Shocking, I know. But, despite what my mother may think, I am not completely socially inept. I can pay compliments as well as the next gentleman, when they are sincere."
"I never thought you were socially inept," Cassie said, almost truthfully. Emboldened by his new, more comfortable presence, she said, "Do you know what I would really like to do today?"
"No, Miss Richards. Look for, spirits, mayhap?"
Cassie peered at him suspiciously, but his smile was only teasing, not mocking. "I would like to take a walk down by the shore."
"Really? Well, that is easily done. The stables will always wait. But I fear it is rather chilly down by the water."
Cassie held out a handful of her heavy red cloak. "Oh, I am always prepared for the chill here!"
"Then there are some steps just a little further down that way, that lead to the shore." He straightened from leaning on the wall, and offered her his arm. "Shall we, Miss Richards?"
Cassie eyed his proffered arm for a moment, half-afraid he might pull away and laugh at her. But when he just held it out a little farther and smiled at her expectantly, she slowly slid her hand into the warm crook of his elbow and let him lead her onward.
The steps to the shore, made of stone at the lowest part of the cliffs, were steep and weathered. Cassie moved carefully on the thin soles of her half boots, but Lord Royce's arm beneath her hand was steady and strong as he helped her down.
Surely he did not spend all his time in the library, or the muscles that bunched and moved under her touch would not be so—so hard.
Finally she was distracted from her very improper thoughts about Lord Royce's musculature when they reached the shore, and her face was sprayed with a light mist from the sea. She inhaled deeply of the salty tang in the air, so strange but so familiar and sweet. Her footsteps crunched on the pebbles of the beach.
She could not help herself. She let go of Lord Royce's arm and rushed toward the water, until the waves lapped at the very toes of her half boots and dampened the hems of her dress and cloak.
Cassie did not even notice. She was far too enthralled with being so close to the sea again. She gave a little laugh and knelt down to trail her fingertips in a receding wave. The water was much colder than in Jamaica, but it felt delicious on her skin.
She stood back up and glanced over her shoulder at Lord Royce. She expected to find him disapproving of her impulsive behavior, perhaps ready to demand that they return to the castle at once. She was all ready to stiffen her resolve not to let him spoil her joy.
Instead, she found that he watched her almost as if he had never seen her before in his life. His expression was quite startled, his eyes wide. He was frowning a bit, but not in a disapproving way. Rather, he looked—puzzled.
Cassie was not sure what to make of this. She moved one small step closer to him. "The sea is very beautiful, is it not?" she said slowly.
"Oh, yes," he answered in a quiet voice, the sound almost lost in the murmur of the waves. "Very beautiful."
* * *
Phillip watched Cassie run toward the water, her laughter echoing on the autumn air, and thought that she looked a bit like a clothed Aphrodite, emerging newborn from the waves. If Aphrodite had chosen chilly Cornwall to emerge from instead of the warm Mediterranean at Sicily, of course.
At the castle, Cassie seemed happy and sociable, but also strangely uncomfortable at times. Almost as if she was afraid of saying or doing something that was in some way wrong. Here there was none of that in her demeanor. She ran toward the water, laughing, her hand stretched out.
As she bent down to touch a receding wave, a lock of black hair fell from her carved ebony combs and brushed against her cheek.
She looked so—so joyful. Phillip longed to join her, to feel that way again. To feel free, childlike, to not worry about books and logic and always being in strictest control. He wanted to absorb all her laughter and wonder into himself.
Even to believe in spirits and fairies, perhaps?
Then she looked back at him with her rich, dark eyes. "The sea is beautiful, is it not?" she said, looking at him with a rather puzzled air.
"Oh, yes," he murmured hoarsely. "Very beautiful."
Her eyes widened, as if startled, and he suddenly realized he was gaping at her like a moonstruck schoolboy. A small frown formed on her brow, and his longings of only a moment before vanished like so mu
ch mist on the water. He was recalled to himself, to where they were, to who they were.
"There are underground tunnels near here," he said, grasping for something, anything, to talk about. Anything that did not involve how lovely her eyes were. "They are said to have been used by pirates long ago, but they are mostly blocked up now to discourage smuggling. Except for one."
"Pirates! How very intriguing," she said. She looked away from him, breaking the last vestiges of the strange spell. "I should like to see them."
"There is not much to see. The one that is still open is just used for storage. Local fishermen keep their boats there."
"I should still like to see it, and imagine the pirates that used to shelter there. I am sure Aunt Chat and Antoinette would like to see it, too."
"Maybe we could all have a picnic near there, one day soon," Phillip said. He found himself grasping at the excuse to spend more time with this strange, intriguing woman. Even leaving his books yet again for a picnic by the sea.
She smiled at him, quite as if they were almost friends. "Yes. I would enjoy that very much. We would enjoy that."
Chapter 9
Cassie was awakened in the middle of the night by the unmistakable tingling sensation of someone staring at her. She opened her eyes—and promptly gave a shriek. Quick as a flash, she scrambled up against the pillows.
"Hello," said the woman who perched on the edge of the bed. "I am sorry I frightened you."
Cassie pulled the sheet up to her chin and stared over it at the woman. She appeared quite solid: a real person, with long blond ringlets and a blue satin gown in the style of the Restoration. Only a faint, white glow around the edges betrayed her as something not quite human.
Cassie recognized her face from the portraits. "You—you are Louisa, aren't you?" she managed to stammer out. She wasn't exactly sure how one should address a ghost. Should she have called her Lady Royce?
A Loving Spirit Page 4