Victor held on to his father as if his life depended on it. The last time he’d seen him, he’d had to crane his neck back to look him in the eye. It felt strange to be of the same height and girth with this mountain of a man, the one person who’d always commanded his respect, even when they did not agree on a matter.
“Father, I missed you, too,” he whispered. Tears stung his eyes, and he closed them tight. He didn’t want to cry in front of his father. He’d never once cried as a lad, and he had no intention of doing it now that he was a full-grown man.
“Victor.” A beautiful woman stepped forward, her arms outstretched. She was a lovely creature, draped in a yellow dress trimmed with tiny embroidered flowers.
“Cora?”
She nodded, and he fell into her embrace, holding her close for a long moment before she pulled back and indicated the man standing behind her. “Allow me to introduce my husband, Stuart O’Brien.”
“An honor to meet you,” Stuart said, smiling. “Not many men can boast a pirate for a brother-in-law.”
Victor laughed and rubbed his jaw, sneaking a glance at his mother. “Privateer, not pirate.”
Stuart nodded. “But of course.”
“Why did you not tell us you were coming home?” his mother finally asked.
Victor flinched under the accusation. “My apologies, but there wasn’t time. I’ll explain everything over breakfast, if that pleases you.”
“Of course,” his mother said, gesturing to a chair adjacent to the head of the table, where his father settled down. “Please, fill your plates everyone, and then Victor can bring us up to date on the past sixteen years.”
She set his letters on the table beside her teacup and patted them with a wistful gleam in her eyes. He had done the right thing by bringing them to her. She could not doubt his devotion after reading his heartfelt responses.
They ate, and he filled them in on his travels, on the friendships he had forged with Dominick Sommerset and Charles Moore, and on the events while he lived at Devil’s Cove Manor. His brother-in-law asked endless questions regarding his ventures at sea, while his parents were in awe of the countries he’d visited. He was about to divulge the news of his discovering Mercy’s whereabouts when the door to the breakfast room suddenly opened, and there she stood, her eyes wide and her fingers in a tangled mass in front of her.
She looked absolutely stunning with the front of her hair braided and twisted around her head while the back was left to flow in soft waves down her back. Mary had done an outstanding job.
Milton stepped into the room. “May I present Miss Mercy Limmerick, special guest of Master Victor?”
Victor beamed at her and pushed back his chair. “Mercy will be my wife as soon as I can procure a marriage license and we’ve met the required residency terms,” he said, walking to her side. “We’ve returned to search for the missing stones in hopes of ending the blasted Blackburn curse.”
Father wiped a napkin over his lips, his wide-eyed gaze flickering toward Mother for a brief moment. He tossed the napkin onto his plate and stood. “A pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Limmerick,” he said with a bow. A tight smile creased his lips. “This is quite a surprise, Victor. Congratulations are in order, I’m sure. Of course, your guest is welcome at Blackburn Castle.”
Mother nodded and walked to Mercy’s side, joining their hands. “Your parents were so brave. We owe much to their generosity and sacrifice. I cherish the opportunity to know you better.”
With a lift of his brow, his father trained his gaze on Mercy. “Yes, and I as well. Perhaps we might learn why it took so long for Victor to locate you?”
The rosy glow faded from her cheeks as she twisted her fingers. “Sir, I—”
“Father, please,” Victor said, wrapping his arm around Mercy’s waist. “I’ll explain everything later. Let us enjoy our morning with pleasant topics.”
His father clasped his hands behind his back, tilting his head. “Very well, son. You must share the tale of your first encounter with Miss Limmerick. Surely that was pleasant.”
“Jasper, please stop.” Mother tugged on his shirtsleeve. “Our son is finally home. Do not drive him away.”
An exasperated sigh pulsed through his father’s lips. “We’ve searched endlessly for the stones, and now it’s almost too late. We deserve to know why our son’s fiancée didn’t visit Blackburn Castle on her sixteenth birthday as her mother promised she would. The curse should’ve been broken seven years ago!”
Mercy bit her bottom lip and warily glanced at his father. Victor groaned under his breath. Obstinate man! So his father still asserted an iron will with indifferent precision. Well, Victor wasn’t a child any longer, and he wouldn’t tolerate this treatment of his betrothed. Even if it meant confessing the truth before his entire family to gain his father’s acquiescence.
“Enough,” he said, his heartbeat quickening. “Mercy was living with her aunt and uncle in Devil’s Cove. She was seven years old when her parents died, a mere child. And she had learned that I killed her mother. You cannot blame her. It’s all chronicled in my letters.”
Mother’s face turned ashen, and Father choked on a gasp. His parents stared at him in stunned silence for a full minute. Before long, his breakfast turned in his stomach, and he looked away, unable to bear their scrutiny.
“That’s preposterous,” Father said, shaking his head. “You would never murder an innocent woman.”
Victor’s jaw clenched. “Oh, but I did. The Butcher forced my hand. Either kill or be killed. I was ten and scared, having only recovered from a severe whipping a few days prior.” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, driving away the memory of Maude’s anguished cries as he shoved the knife into her heart. “The Butcher broke me, in so many ways. I’m sorry to disappoint you both. But it’s true. You cannot hold Mercy responsible in this debacle.”
Heat radiated off of Victor’s tense body as he awaited his father’s response. This was to be a day of celebration, not strife. Just as he would speak, in an attempt to ease the tension, his father exhaled, heavy and protracted.
“My apologies, Mercy,” he said, holding out his hand. “We were not aware of the circumstances. I’m sorry for your loss. Let us put this behind us and start anew. Come, meet Victor’s sister, Cora, and her husband, Stuart.”
Cora’s face lit up with a bright smile. “I’m pleased to meet you. It’s not every day my brother returns home with news of his betrothal. Milton, glasses and a bottle of our finest champagne, if you please? A toast is in order.”
“Yes, of course,” Mother seconded. “First our dear Cora graces us with a healthy grandson, and now our Victor has returned home with a beautiful fiancée. Come warm yourselves by the fire in the parlor and share the details of the happy news. There is much to celebrate.”
When they settled in the parlor, Victor sought his father’s attention from across the room. “I expect my other guests will arrive before luncheon. We’ve journeyed a long distance, and I would ask that you extend them an invitation to stay at Blackburn Castle while we search for the missing amber stones of Freya. Is that too much to ask on short notice?”
His father pulled on the cuff of his shirt. “Any friends of yours are most welcome in our home, Victor. Your mother and I are equally eager to end this nasty business of the curse.”
“Thank you,” Victor said with a brisk nod. He relaxed his shoulders and folded one leg over the other, turning his attention to his sister. “So where is this nephew of mine? Mother wrote to say he is the spitting image of me.”
“I object to that,” his brother-in-law said, folding his arms over his chest.
“She said no such thing,” Cora admonished her brother, then giggled. “I know, because I read the letter.”
Victor grinned and winked at his sister. This is what it should feel like to return home after a long time away. He would enjoy the feeling for a short while. But as soon as he met his nephew and the other guests arrived, the search for th
e stones would commence.
A few minutes later, an older woman entered the parlor with a baby bundled in her arms. Victor stood, and his heart fluttered as she neared. He would recognize her face anywhere.
“Mimi,” he said, the endearment rushing out before he could stop it. The heat of a blush rushed up his neck, and he coughed. “My apologies, Mrs. Duncan. You’re looking as young as a sprite, if I may say so. I’ve dreamt of your biscuits and marmalade of late. Any chance I might find one in the kitchen?”
“Warm out of the oven,” she said, smiling. “A birdie warned me ye’d arrived. Cook is in a fine temper; I’m stealing her thunder. But it’ll pass.” Her gaze settled on Mercy, who now stood beside Victor. “Where are yer manners, lad? Do ye plan to introduce me to yer fiancée or no?”
“But of course,” he said, grinning. “I’m pleased to introduce you to Miss Mercy Seymour Limmerick.”
Mimi, by far his favorite of the servants, hadn’t changed overmuch in his absence. And despite the fact that he now towered over the older woman, he felt ten years old again in her presence.
Mrs. Duncan nodded a greeting. “Yer a fine-looking lass, and I see the Thorne blood runs in yer veins.”
A gentle smile curved Mercy’s lips. “Thank you, Mrs. Duncan. I admired the portraits of the twin sisters this morning on my way down to the breakfast room. They were beautiful women and truly identical. I’ve heard tales of them my whole life but never had the pleasure of seeing their likeness.”
“Well, now, ye keep yer eye on this one,” Mrs. Duncan said, entrusting the baby into Victor’s arms. “Aidan has a strong set of pipes and an appetite to rival yers.”
Staring into the sleeping face of his nephew, Victor’s chest swelled with pride. A thatch of fine, black hair covered the boy’s head, and though he slumbered, Victor would bet a five pound note that his eyes were green. He glanced at Cora and grinned. She’d played endlessly with her dolls as a child and must’ve been devastated when she believed herself barren. But God had graced her with a beautiful boy. And Victor would see to it that Aidan lived a long and happy life.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Milton appeared in the doorway with Eveline, Dominick, and Hatchet in tow. The room was a flurry of curtseys, bows, and handshakes. As the formal introductions were carried out, Mrs. Duncan and Milton retreated from the parlor and closed the doors, allowing the growing party privacy. Within minutes, the group settled into standard conversation, queries about their travels, and the like.
Victor tapped his fingers against the arm of the sofa. It all seemed a horrible waste of time, this small talk. He stood and crossed the room, seeking an ally, anxious to begin their true business. Hatchet nodded as Victor approached, and with a look of relief, his friend stepped away from the conversation he’d been attending.
“Why so tense?” Hatchet asked, eyeing his stiff stance.
“I’m going insane, man. We’re finally here, and we stand about discussing travels and the weather. With my luck, Mercy’s potion will run out at three o’clock, and I’ll die knowing it rained for a week straight last month.”
Hatchet smirked. “Well, I’ve never been one for formalities. So, allow me,” he said, turning to address the group. “Perhaps we ought to discuss our true purpose for being here.” The room fell silent as all heads turned toward Hatchet. ”We have substantial ground to cover. I’m anxious to begin, as is Victor. Lady Blackburn, have you any suggestions of where we might search for the tears of Freya?”
Mother tangled her fingers in the lap of her gown and shook her head. “I wish I had a worthwhile suggestion, but I’m afraid I do not. We’ve searched for the stones from the minute we were made aware of their existence but to no avail. Is there truly hope that we’ll find them at last?”
A huff of air expelled from Father’s chest, and he paced before the hearth. He stopped and set his steady gaze on Victor. “I grew up in this castle. I know every nook . . . every hiding place . . . all of its secrets. If I cannot locate the stones, why do you believe you and your friends can?”
Before Victor had a chance to respond, Eveline spoke. “Because I’m a medium. There are many others who lived here before you, and they may be able to offer us guidance or clues as to where the stones were hidden.”
Father’s eyebrows rose. “A medium? You wish me to believe in ghosts and your ability to communicate with them? That’s preposterous!”
Mother jumped to her feet and glared at her husband. “Jasper, that is quite enough! I’m beyond my limit. I understand your frustration. I’ve failed along with you over the years. But just because we didn’t find the stones doesn’t mean they don’t exist. And if believing in ghosts and mediums is what it takes to save our son, then by God and all that is holy, we will believe. Eveline, dear, please ignore Lord Blackburn and tell us more.”
Well said, Mother. Victor offered Eveline a reassuring smile and nodded for her to continue.
“I cannot promise success,” Eveline began, “but it is certainly worth a try. First, we must locate a spirit. Are there any drafty rooms, or have the servants ever spoken of encountering ghosts?”
His parents stared at each other blankly, and Victor’s heart sank. That did not bode well. The servants would not speak of such things to the lord and lady of the house. They were a superstitious lot, but speaking of ghosts would be viewed as a weakness, and no one ever dared to appear weak before Victor’s father.
“Perhaps we might speak with Mrs. Duncan about this privately,” Victor offered. He approached his father, flanking his side. “They might not have felt comfortable discussing this matter openly with either of you in the past.”
His father shrugged. “I’ve never happened upon a ghost in the whole course of my life. Poppycock, if you ask me.”
Victor folded his arms and stared at his father. “My point exactly.”
Mother’s mouth twitched. “Shall I ring the bell for her?”
“No,” Mercy interrupted. “That won’t be necessary.”
She looked to Victor for a moment, seeking his approval and support. Why did the simple gesture do strange things to his insides? He did not care to examine his feelings at the moment, so he nodded.
Straightening her shoulders, she spoke directly to Eveline. “Last night I saw a ghost in the family graveyard. He seemed to beckon me to visit him. We must begin our search there. I’m sure of it.”
Had he heard her right? She had seen a ghost beckoning her to a cemetery? As Emma had beckoned him? He caught Eveline’s wide-eyed stare as she bit nervously on her lip for a second, clearly thinking the same thoughts.
Eveline stood and smoothed her skirts, her calm demeanor contrary to his own flustered one. If he hadn’t been watching her so intently, he might not have noticed her discomfort only a moment before.
“An excellent suggestion,” Eveline said. “But ghosts can be finicky, and I wouldn’t wish to scare our friend away before we’ve had a chance to speak with him. Might I suggest only Victor escort Mercy and I to the cemetery? We can meet back here after the midday meal and discuss our next steps. Is that agreeable to everyone?”
Dominick didn’t seem pleased with her suggestion, and it wasn’t surprising, considering he was used to staying close to Eveline’s side whenever she communicated with spirits during her stay at Devil’s Cove Manor. But Blackburn Castle was not haunted, and there was no reason to believe she was in any danger. Besides, Victor would protect her if need be.
Everyone nodded or grumbled their assent.
“Give me a minute to retrieve my pelisse from my bedroom,” Mercy said before ducking out of the parlor.
Victor grabbed Eveline’s arm and pulled her into a corner, away from prying ears. “I don’t like the sound of this. Do you believe Mercy is in danger? I shouldn’t have brought her here. I’m incredibly selfish.”
“Calm yourself, Victor. Her admission disturbed me at first as well, but you’re forgetting one crucial piece of information.”
Wha
t the bloody hell was she trying to suggest? He was not of a mood to play guessing games. His expression must have said as much, because she sighed and leaned forward.
“She is a witch. Her supernatural abilities likely allow her to sense and see what most people cannot. I wouldn’t worry overmuch about it.”
Crucial information, indeed. Her thought process was logical, and he exhaled, letting out the breath he’d been holding. Yes, he could accept that explanation.
A moment later, Victor ushered Eveline into the hallway with Dominick and Hatchet hard on their heels.
“Take care of my fiancée,” Dominick said, his tone making it painfully clear that should anything befall her, he’d hold Victor accountable.
Victor grinned. “You have my word.”
Mercy descended the stairs in that moment and returned his smile. “I have an excellent feeling about this,” she said when she reached the landing.
Most women would faint at the idea of ghost hunting. But not his Mercy. No, she was fearless, and he had no doubts that she would be his nephew’s salvation.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rain pattered on the hood of Mercy’s pelisse, and a clap of thunder roared in her ears. She shifted her focus from her footing on the uneven grass to the sky. Ominous clouds rolled toward them from the distance. Did ghosts fear thunderstorms? Hopefully not, because time was of the essence.
Her foot dipped into a divot, and she stumbled before Victor caught her arm. He smiled down at her, shaking his head.
“You’re as nervous as I am,” he teased, not letting go.
“I’m not nervous, rather wondering if ghosts fear rain. I’m worried he’ll not be there. But certainly not nervous. Should I be?”
“I’ve witnessed things at Devil’s Cove Manor that set my heart racing. But Eveline is the best judge of the matter.” He lifted an eyebrow toward Eveline. “Are the ghosts here malevolent?”
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