by Anna Bradley
The White Lady’s got Cecilia trapped…
But there was no White Lady. She was an illusion, a ghost born from a rumor, the rumor born from lies, lies told by those who didn’t understand the truth could be far uglier than the worst thing their imaginations could conjure.
He’d known Leanora would come back, despite her promises to stay away. From the moment she first set foot in Darlington Castle she’d been unpredictable, selfish, and vindictive, and she’d only grown more bitter and resentful with each year that passed. He’d known she’d stay away only as long as it suited her to do so, and not a moment longer.
How had she found her way into the castle? Had she been wandering his hallways all this time? All these nights he and Haslemere had spent searching the grounds, hour upon hour roaming the darkness—had it been a fool’s errand?
Gideon raised a shaking hand to his face, trying not to think about the damage Leanora could have done while he’d been out chasing her ghost.
He slowed his steps to a crawl when he reached the second floor landing and crept silently down the corridor. The stench of burning—of a life going up in flames grew stronger as he neared Cassandra’s bedchamber. Wisps of smoke were drifting from the narrow crack under the door, and he heard female voices.
One was Cecilia’s. The other…
It had been months since Gideon had heard it, but he knew that chilly voice, the sharp edges of it that cut like broken glass. Leanora had ruined Nathanial with that voice—chased him from Kent back to London. Even then he hadn’t truly escaped her, and now…
Now she’d turned it on Cecilia.
Gideon’s hands fisted with the effort it took not to crash through the door and throw himself between Cecilia and Leanora, but he had no idea what was happening inside that bedchamber. If he startled Leanora, it might lead to disaster. So, instead he crept to his own bedchamber, then through the connecting door into Isabella and Cecilia’s room.
The haze of smoke was thicker here, and there was an ominous crackling sound coming from the other side of the door, as if flames were licking up the drapes or burning through the carpet.
And above it, Cecilia’s voice, threaded with panic.
The door between the two rooms should have been locked, but the latch turned easily in Gideon’s hand. He eased it open, just a crack at first, then wider, wide enough for him to slip through, and…
He froze on the threshold, panic swelling in his chest.
The coverlet spread over the bed was on fire, and the heavy silk window drapes were smoldering. If the walls hadn’t been made of stone, the bits of charred silk and the showers of sparks raining down would have set them ablaze already, and there would have been nothing left of the bedchamber. Even now, if a stray spark should catch the bed hangings, it would only be a matter of time before the carved wooden posts went up in flames.
In the middle of this nightmare stood Cecilia, the hems of her work dress scorched and ragged, as if she’d been stomping down flames. Facing her, dressed in a white gown and wig, her face painted a ghastly white stood Leanora, waving a candle in her hand threateningly, as if she were about to hurl it onto the bed.
Both women noticed him at the same time.
“Gideon.” Cecilia took a quick step toward him.
He’d never seen her so pale, and her fear tore at his heart, but he turned all his attention on Leanora, circling her warily. “Back so soon, Leanora? I’m surprised to see you here again.”
Leanora threw her head back in a laugh. “Come now, Gideon. We’re old friends, aren’t we? You knew I’d return to Darlington Castle to take back what’s mine. Why pretend otherwise?”
“What’s yours? I don’t know what you mean.” Gideon edged closer, one cautious step at a time, his body tensed to spring. “Don’t you remember, Leanora? You gave Isabella up to me in exchange for thousands of pounds and your freedom. She’s no longer yours. If you think you’re going to claim her now, you’re very much mistaken.”
“Isabella?” Leanora waved a hand, as if Isabella were an insect she was swatting away. “Isabella is of no use to me. A daughter does me no good, and we both know she isn’t Nathanial’s child.”
Cecilia choked on a gasp, but Gideon kept his gaze on Leanora, fury and fear burning through him. “You don’t deserve Isabella, Leanora. You never did.”
“No, I deserve a great deal better than her! I was the belle of my season. Not a single young lady in London could compare to me. I should have had everything, but instead I was cursed with a husband who couldn’t father an heir! Nathanial was never going to give me a son, but you can make up for your brother’s shortcomings.”
“Is this a seduction, then?” Gideon let out a mocking laugh, his gaze darting between Leanora’s face and the candle in her hand. “I can’t say I’m much tempted. What’s become of the Marquess of Aviemore, Leanora? Does he approve of his betrothed attempting to seduce her brother-in-law?”
Leanora paled at mention of Aviemore. “Aviemore hasn’t anything to do with it. My son will be the future heir of the Darlington title and fortunes. Mine. not Cassandra’s, not Fanny Honeywell’s, and not your housemaid’s, no matter if you are fool enough to marry her.”
Gideon slowly shook his head. “It’s too late, Leanora. Nathanial is gone, and you’re no longer the Marchioness of Darlington.”
Leanora laughed again, a high-pitched, feral shriek. “Oh, but I will be again. You and I will wed, and our son will inherit the title and fortunes. Yours, and mine.”
“Wed?” Gideon stared at her in shock. Leanora’s sanity had always been tenuous, and now her last shred of reason had fled. “You and I will never marry, Leanora. It would be blasphemy for you to wed your late husband’s brother.”
Leanora’s blue eyes, still so beautiful, burned with madness. “I deserve a husband who can give me a son. I don’t care which Darlington brother fathers the heir, as long as he’s my son.”
An incredulous laugh tore from Gideon’s lips. “You have a strange idea of courtship. Dressing up in a white gown and wig and play acting at being a ghost?”
“I didn’t invent the White Lady.” Leanora’s fingers tightened around the candle. “The gossips in Edenbridge are responsible for her. Some fool saw me in the woods and started the rumor. I simply turned it to account by dressing the part. I don’t deny she served me well. She frightened off your bride, didn’t she?”
“That’s why you came back, then. To get rid of Miss Honeywell.” Gideon had suspected Leanora wanted to put an end to his betrothal, but to find she’d done so because she believed he’d marry her was unbearable, as if he’d been sucked into a nightmare.
“I didn’t expect to have to return at all. I never thought you’d find another bride after I turned you into the Murderous Marquess.” A hysterical laugh spilled from Leanora’s scarlet lips. “I should have known there’d be some witless girl eager enough to marry a wealthy nobleman, even if he’s rumored to be a monster.”
Cecilia gasped. “You! You started those rumors? You turned your brother-in-law into a murderer, and your own cousin into a ghost?”
Leanora shot her a look of malicious glee. “Well, I couldn’t let him marry Miss Honeywell, could I? You’re going to marry me, Gideon. It’s the only way to ensure my son becomes the heir.”
“Marry you?” Gideon’s laugh was bitter. “I can’t stand to look at you. Go back to Aviemore, Leanora. Become his marchioness, and give him a son and heir. You’ll get nowhere with me.”
Underneath the thick layer of white paint, Leanora’s cheeks burned. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. Aviemore’s gone.”
“Gone?” Gideon stared at her. “Jesus, Leanora. What have you done?”
“I’ve done only what I had to do.” A strange look crossed Leanora’s face. “And you see, I did the right thing. If I’d permitted Cassandra to give birth, her son would have become
the Marquess of Darlington.”
Gideon went cold at her words, so cold and numb he couldn’t breathe.
If I’d permitted Cassandra to give birth…
He sifted frantically through his memories of the months of Cassandra’s illness, but his brain was sluggish with shock. All he could recall were flickering visions, each one more heartbreaking than the last. Cassandra, too ill to eat, growing weaker by the day, and his son, his eyes forever closed, laying on his dead mother’s breast, and blood…
Blood everywhere.
Gideon lifted his gaze to Leanora’s stark face, her fevered blue eyes, her livid lips. If Leanora’s madness had driven her to hurt Cassandra, there was nothing she wouldn’t risk, nothing she wouldn’t do.
“Go, Cecilia,” he choked out, smoke searing his lungs. The drapes were engulfed in flames now, and they were devouring everything in their path. Cassandra’s mahogany dressing table would be next, and soon the carpet would catch. “Out the hallway door, now.”
Cecilia was gasping for air, but she didn’t move. “No. I won’t go without you.”
“Cecilia, please.” Gideon glanced away from Leanora for an instant. “I’m begging you.”
But Cecilia didn’t meet his gaze. She was watching Leanora over his shoulder. “You can’t escape down the passageway, my lady. I’ve had it blocked at the other end.”
Gideon jerked around and saw Leanora was skirting the edge of the bed, moving toward Cassandra’s dressing room at the far corner of the bedchamber. Her arm was raised, as if she were prepared at any moment to light the bed hangings on fire.
“You’re risking your own safety as well as ours.” Cecilia was tracking the movement of the candle in Leanora’s hand. “I’m telling you the truth, my lady. There’s no longer a way out that way.”
“The truth?” Leanora spat. “Do you suppose I’d believe a whore?” She pointed a shaking finger at Cecilia. “I know you were in his bed last night. I saw you.”
The color drained from Cecilia’s face, but she held her hand out to Leanora. “Neither Lord Darlington nor I want to see you get hurt, my lady. There’s still time for us all to get out the hallway door. Give his lordship the candle.”
Soon it would no longer matter whether Leanora lit the bed hangings on fire or not. The bedchamber was almost entirely engulfed in flames, the smoke growing thicker by the moment. Gideon held out his hand to Leanora, beckoning with his fingers. “Give me the candle, Leanora.”
Leanora backed away from him. Gideon tensed, about to leap on her and tackle her to the floor when Leanora let out an inhuman shriek that made the hair on his neck stand on end, and touched the lit end of the candle to the fragile silk bed hangings. They caught at once, and within seconds the flames were crawling up the carved wooden bed posts to the canopy above.
“No!” Gideon made another grab for Leanora, but it was too late. The candle fell to the floor behind the bed. Gideon prayed the flame was snuffed out before it dropped, but a second later the thick carpet under their feet caught fire.
Leanora whirled around and… somehow vanished into the clouds of smoke billowing toward the ceiling, as if she truly were a ghost.
Gideon stared with his brain frozen in shock. He took a step toward the empty place where she’d been moments before, but Cecilia grabbed his arm. She was shouting something at him, but Gideon couldn’t hear what she said over the roar of the fire. Something about a blocked passageway, and getting trapped inside the castle.
“Gideon!” Cecilia clawed at his arm. “Listen to me!”
He jerked his attention back to her, dazed, but as he stared into her dark eyes, the fog dissolved, and his brain snapped back into focus.
Cecilia. The only thing that mattered now was Cecilia.
Without a word, he swept Cecilia into his arms, but just as he turned toward the door leading into the hallway, the beam above exploded in a shower of sparks, then collapsed to the floor with a thundering crash.
Their only hope now was to flee through Cecilia’s bedchamber. The connecting door itself was on fire, the hungry flames devouring the wood, but for the moment, the beam was still sound. Gideon rushed toward it, and with Cecilia still in his arms, kicked the burning door open and flew through it.
“Isabella!” Cecilia screamed. She struggled to get free as they ran through her bedchamber, but Gideon held her fast. “She’s safe.”
The flames hadn’t reached this room yet, but the smoke was so thick Gideon could hardly make out the door. He staggered in that direction, his head going dizzy as his lungs burned for air, but just as he was certain he couldn’t take another step—that he’d fall to his knees—he was through the door and into the hallway, Cecilia clutched in his arms.
They were both choking and gagging on the smoke, but Gideon kept running, the fire at his back and a desperate prayer on his lips. He ran down the stairs and through the entrance hall, sucking in breath after greedy breath as they left the worst of the smoke behind them.
His eyes were burning and stinging, but as he stumbled through the entrance hall, he could see Mrs. Briggs, Amy, and Isabella on the other side of the door. Duncan and Fraser stood behind them, and Haslemere and his men were just thundering up the drive, Haslemere’s face as white as death.
Gideon burst through the door, and a shout went up when they staggered onto the drive. He fell to his knees, still clasping Cecilia against his chest. A second shout went up—Haslemere and the men—and then everyone was rushing upon them at once.
Gideon didn’t know how long they sat there in the drive with everyone crowding around them. All he knew was he had Cecilia in his arms, and she was holding him tightly against her, as if nothing in the world could ever make her let him go.
Chapter Twenty-five
Lady Leanora, the sixth Marchioness of Darlington and Edenbridge’s notorious White Lady, died in the fire at Darlington Castle, overcome by the smoke billowing into the secret passageway.
Alerted by the smoke pouring into the sky, a group of men from Edenbridge arrived at the castle soon after Cecilia and Gideon escaped, and worked alongside Gideon, Haslemere, and their men to battle the fire. By dawn the following morning the flames were out, but the entire eastern wing of the castle where Cassandra’s bedchamber had been had collapsed into rubble.
Cecilia, Amy, and Mrs. Briggs were sent to the Dower house with Isabella, who, after a warm bath and much petting and soothing, had at last been coaxed into bed. Amy took a bed in the same room so she could comfort her if she woke.
Mrs. Briggs made up beds for herself and Cecilia on the same floor, but neither of them retired. Cecilia had been standing at the window in the front parlor since they arrived at the Dower house, gripping the windowsill with white knuckles.
“Go to bed, Cecilia.” Mrs. Briggs stood behind her, wringing her hands. “You need to rest, child.”
Rest. There’d be no rest for her until the truth was known. Not just the truth about Lady Leanora, but the wicked, ugly truths behind all of Darlington Castle’s secrets. Lady Leanora’s perfidy, Cassandra’s death, Gideon’s innocence, and the truth about Cecilia herself.
The truth about the lies she’d told.
She wanted to blurt it all out to Mrs. Briggs, to unburden herself with a confession and weep on that motherly shoulder, but Gideon had to be the first to hear those truths.
Cecilia pasted a trembling smile on her lips and turned to face Mrs. Briggs. “You go ahead, Mrs. Briggs. I, ah…I need to have a word with Lord Darlington before I retire.” Gideon would come to her. Sooner or later, he’d come, and when he did, she’d tell him everything. Until then, there was nothing for her to do but wait.
Mrs. Briggs studied Cecilia in silence before taking both her hands. “A fire is a terrible thing. I used to live in fear Darlington Castle would burn one day, but now the worst has happened, I see it as a chance to start anew.”
> “A chance for who, Mrs. Briggs? Not Lady Cassandra, and not her infant son.” Cecilia wanted with all her heart to believe hope could rise from the ashes, but the frightened, defeated part of her wondered how one could overcome such devastation, such loss.
“For Lord Darlington, Cecilia.” Mrs. Briggs squeezed her hands. “He’s a young man, one I hope will have years of happiness ahead of him. He never deserved to suffer as he has.”
“No, he didn’t.” Angry tears flooded Cecilia’s eyes. An innocent man who’d borne unimaginable loss, then been victimized a second time by his own sister-in-law, someone he should have been able to trust.
The Murderous Marquess. Whatever else happened between her and Gideon, Cecilia would see to it that malicious slur was consigned to the flames. If nothing else, she could do that for him.
“Oh, my dear.” Mrs. Briggs patted Cecilia’s cheek. “It will be all right in the end. You’ll see. Now, promise me you’ll rest after you’ve spoken to Lord Darlington.”
Cecilia swiped the tears from her cheeks. “I will.”
“Good girl.” Mrs. Briggs didn’t say any more, but left Cecilia alone by the window, waiting.
By the time Gideon appeared hours later, the haze of smoke rising from the charred remains of Darlington Castle had turned the sky above a steely gray. Underneath the ashes and soot, his face was pale and lined with exhaustion.
He paused in the parlor doorway when he saw her. “Is everyone all right?”
“Yes. Isabella is sleeping. Amy is with her, and Mrs. Briggs in a nearby bedchamber. Duncan and Fraser, and Lord Haslemere and his men—”
“Ready to collapse, but otherwise well enough. Duncan and Fraser will stay in the gamekeeper’s cottage until the castle is habitable again.” He gave a short laugh. “If it ever is. Perhaps I’ll leave it in ruins.”
Cecilia flinched at the bitterness in his voice. “Gideon—”
“Haslemere and his men are returning to Surrey later this afternoon. There’s no reason for them to stay, now our ghost is gone. No place for them, either.”