“You must think me a terribly stubborn fool, Miss Richards,” he said, raising his gaze to meet hers at last. “For denying all this so strenuously and for so long.”
“Stubborn, perhaps,” Cassie answered slowly, with the realization that this was a great turning point for him and for them as well. A Lord Royce willing to admit he might share his house and now his carriage with some long-dead ancestors was a momentous thing.
The least she could do was not crow in triumph.
“But not a fool,” she went on. “This is all very hard for anyone to understand, especially someone who has devoted their life to history and philosophy. I, myself, do not fully understand it at all, and I doubt I ever will.”
Phillip took her gloved hand in his and lifted it to his lips for a warm, lingering kiss. “Thank you, Cassandra. For not thinking me too great a fool.”
She smiled at him. “Did you not tell me that my name means ‘disbelieved by men’?”
He laughed against her fingers, and it echoed sweetly to the very heart of her. Cassie leaned toward him, drawn to him by an inexorable force . . .
But then there was a great jolt, and the carriage was thrown off balance. Cassie slid against the leather-padded wall, still holding onto Phillip, who fell heavily against her.
“Oof!” she gasped as the carriage ground to a halt, still askew.
Phillip pulled himself away from her. “Cassandra! Are you hurt?”
She was just breathless and a bit sore where her shoulder had landed against the wall. But she so wished he would come closer to her again!
“Not at all,” she answered, letting him help her up. “But what has happened?”
“I’m not sure.” Phillip pushed the door open and climbed down into the road. “It appears your friends have gone, though.”
Cassie clambered after him and looked up to the box to see that he was absolutely right. Louisa and Sir Belvedere had vanished, leaving them all alone on a deserted stretch of road with a lopsided vehicle and winded horses.
No one had ever told her ghosts were so unreliable! They had probably floated right back to the East Tower, where they were warm and cozy.
Cassie pulled her cloak closer around her and turned back to see Phillip kneeling down in the road, examining the carriage wheel. “It appears that this wheel is stuck in a rut,” he said.
“Can you loose it?”
“Not by myself.” He looked up at her and grinned. “I’m just a weak scholar, you know.”
Cassie gave a disbelieving little snort. She remembered the lean, strong feel of his body as he fell against her. “I am sure somebody will come along and find us soon. Surely the others will have followed us.”
“No doubt. We can start walking back toward the castle, and meet them on the way.”
“Yes, a fine idea.” Maybe walking would keep her warm, she reflected, even though her thin evening slippers were hardly made for the road.
Phillip reached back into the carriage to retrieve his coat, slid it over his shoulders, then offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
“Thank you,” Cassie said. She took his arm and off they went, as if for a pleasant afternoon’s stroll.
But they had not gone far before Cassie realized just how impractical her shoes were. She stumbled over a stone in the road.
“What is it?” Phillip asked in concern.
“Oh, these silly shoes! They are supposed to be able to dance all night, but they cannot walk down a simple country lane.” Leaning on him, she lifted up her foot and peered wryly down at the thin blue satin. What she wouldn’t give for a nice, sturdy pair of boots right now!
With no warning, Phillip reached down behind her knees and swept her up into his arms. He continued walking down the road as if she weighed no more than a quill pen.
“What are you doing?” Cassie cried, twisting about to look at him.
“Carrying you, of course,” he answered matter-of-factly. “You are obviously in no condition to be walking. Stop wriggling about so, or I’ll have to drop you.”
Cassie immediately stilled—and realized how very nice it was to be held so. His arms were strong and secure about her, his warm breath stirring in her hair. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and just gave herself over to those lovely feelings.
He hummed a soft little tune as he walked. “You seem quite contented,” she commented, marveling at how this seemingly happy-go-lucky man had been so quiet and angry only hours before.
“Oh, I am,” he answered, shifting her slightly in his arms. “Just think of all the marvelous new avenues of philosophy that are open to my study now! That is something to look forward to. Best of all, I have a very pretty girl in my arms, and I am strolling along in the evening air rather than sitting at some dull supper party. Do you not agree that this is more fun than being at Lady Paige’s house, as worthy as that lady is?”
Cassie thought this was more fun than anything she had ever done before. She was cold and her feet hurt, but she wanted to giggle giddily. What a very good thing it was that the ghosts were so fond of mischief!
“Oh, yes,” she agreed. “Much better.”
“You do realize, of course, that I have hopelessly compromised you,” he said in a genial tone.
Cassie’s eyes flew wide open, and she stared up at him. He just smiled blandly back at her.
Was this what it felt like to be compromised? If so, it was not too bad, though perhaps not quite as exciting as one would have imagined. “Have you indeed?”
“Oh, yes. I shall probably have to marry you.” He sounded singularly unconcerned by the prospect.
Cassie felt an undeniable thrill at the thought of marrying Phillip. But at the same time she felt a stubborn niggling of doubt. She had always fantasized that she would marry for love, as her parents had. She had a sneaking suspicion that she did love Phillip, or at least was beginning to.
But did he love her? She rather doubted it. He probably still thought her a silly, flighty girl.
She wanted him to truly want to marry her. Not have to marry her because the ghosts had pulled a prank for some reason.
And, if they were to wed, she would have to give up any idea of ever going back to Jamaica. Only true love could make her give that up.
She made herself laugh lightly and said, “I hardly think it will come to that! Only my aunt, your mother, and Antoinette know we are out here alone. They will not gossip about it, surely, and the ghosts cannot. They are never invited to dine anywhere.”
“Oh, you never know about my mother. She has been so eager to get me married off, she may even be willing to cause a scandal to do it.”
Cassie peered up at him suspiciously, not sure if he was joking or not. She had never known anyone with such a dry sense of humor before.
He just had that same little, maddening half smile on his face.
“But you needn’t fear being leg-shackled to me just yet,” he said. “I think I hear a carriage. We are rescued.”
Indeed they were. The first carriage from Royce Castle, the one that had not run away, rounded a bend in the road just ahead and came barreling toward them, driven by a human coachman. Antoinette, Lady Royce, and Chat all hung out of the windows, the wind disarranging their careful coiffures.
“There they are!” Antoinette shouted, and the carriage pulled to a halt. The women tumbled out and ran across the road to them.
“Cassie!” Aunt Chat cried out. “Are you hurt, my dear? What has happened?”
Lady Royce, too, expressed her concern, but Antoinette looked suspiciously sanguine as she took in the scene of Cassie in Lord Royce’s arms.
He slowly lowered her to the ground, still holding onto her arm.
“I am not hurt at all, Aunt Chat,” Cassie assured her. “But, oh, you will not believe what has happened!”
For a man whose entire worldview had been turned tip over tail, Phillip was feeling strangely jolly.
They were all crowded into the one carriage now, on their way to Lady Paige’s
supper at last. Cassie sat beside him, wedged against him as she and Antoinette tried to fix each other’s hair into some semblance of tidiness. Even after traipsing about outdoors, her sweet, exotic perfume was still discernible, and she occasionally fell against him as the carriage bounced along the road. She would smile up at him apologetically, then go back to assuring her aunt that no, she was not injured, and yes, she did feel up to going to the supper party.
Her gaze would sometimes meet his, with a little puzzled frown on her brow, but then she would quickly look away. It was clear that his earlier words about being compromised and having to marry were still on her mind. And not necessarily in a good way.
He had tried to convince her he was merely joking when he said that—he tried to convince himself he was merely joking. But the truth was he wouldn’t half mind marrying Cassandra Richards.
He wouldn’t half mind it at all.
He looked down at the top of her dark, shining hair. She laughed at something Antoinette said, and her head tilted back onto his shoulder for the merest second. Her long sapphire drop earrings shimmered in the light from the carriage lamps, then lay still against her white neck.
She was truly the first woman who the thought of marrying did not fill him with some sense of dread. Rather, it filled him with a sense of—anticipation and warmth.
He finally acknowledged to himself that, yes, he was very fond of Cassandra Richards. In fact, he could very well be falling in love with her.
When she first came to Royce Castle, full of fancy and island exoticism, he had been drawn to her, but not at all sure of her. Now he knew that not only was she pretty and vivacious, but she was smart, and caring, and kind to everyone around her.
Even to stubborn old homebodies like himself.
She was also full of life, and she spread that joy in living all about her. He had not realized just how dull and dusty his life had become until she burst into it. Now he never wanted to give up that feeling of being gloriously alive.
He never wanted to give her up.
But it was obvious that she could never be happy with the sort of life he could give her, the sort of person he was.
If there was only some way to persuade her otherwise . . .
“Are you quite all right, dear?” his mother said, breaking into his thoughts. “You have been very quiet, and you are rather pale.”
He looked back down at Cassie, who now watched him worriedly. “I am quite all right, Mother,” he answered. “Quite all right indeed.”
“Oh, that was truly splendid!” Lady Lettice said happily as the ghosts gathered in the East Tower to gloat over the evening’s triumph. She clapped her beringed hands as she floated over the floor, her skirts barely brushing the carpet. “I must say I had my doubts about the two of you managing things with the carriage, but you did a fine job.”
Louisa bristled indignantly. “What do you mean, you had your doubts? This entire thing was our doing, Sir Belvedere’s and mine. All you did was give Lord Royce that tiny little push into the carriage.”
Lady Lettice planted her hands on her hips. “I was the one who orchestrated the entire thing! You would never have even tried it if not for me. Apparently, all the two of you have been doing in the years of my absence is playing chess and pulling tricks on Lord Royce. Very childish!”
If Louisa had not been a ghost, and therefore pale by nature, her face would have flamed with indignation. “I beg your pardon, lady high-and-mighty, but it was my idea. . . .”
“Dear ladies, please!” Sir Belvedere interrupted, stepping between them with a loud clatter, as Angelo laughed in delight at the blossoming quarrel. “We all worked on this scheme, and the triumph belongs to all of us. We must concentrate on Lord Royce and Miss Richards, and not squabble among ourselves. Or all our effort will be for naught.”
“You are right, of course, Sir Belvedere,” Lady Lettice said slowly. Then she went and sat down in the chair beside the window.
Louisa nodded. Sir Belvedere was completely right. They were dead, after all; their troubles should all be behind them, along with human pettiness. This was all about Lord Royce and Cassie, and helping them to not make the mistakes in life that the ghosts had. Cassie had been so very kind to them, so helpful, that it was only right that they should help her in return.
And someone deserved to be happy as Lady Royce in this place, even if that someone had never been Louisa.
Chapter Seventeen
“Psst! Cassie! Are you awake?”
Cassie vaguely heard Antoinette’s whispering voice through the haze of sleep. She was still muzzy-headed from the wine at Lady Paige’s supper, and from the strange excitement of being carried down the road in Phillip’s arms. It felt like she had only just fallen asleep, and now here was Antoinette hissing in her ear and poking at her shoulder.
She rolled over and opened one eye to peer up at Antoinette’s silhouette in the darkness. “What is it? It cannot be time to get up. It’s still dark outside.”
“I just realized I left something in the tunnel last night when we were summoning Lady Lettice,” Antoinette said. “I cannot sleep for thinking about it. I just wanted to see if you would go with me to fetch it.”
“Now? It’s been there all this time. Can’t it stay just a little longer, until morning?”
Antoinette shook her head. She wore no cap, and her long, thick mane of hair undulated in the shadows. “No, I really think I should fetch it now.”
“Why do I have to go with you?”
“Because I don’t want to go alone!” Antoinette burst out.
Cassie sat up at that. “You are scared,” she said, amazed. She had always thought Antoinette could not be frightened of anything.
“I am not scared,” Antoinette protested. “Merely—wary. I saw just how mischievous those ghosts can be tonight, when they took off with you in that carriage.”
“They meant no real harm. I think they must get bored, stuck here in the castle all the time.”
“Well, I don’t want to be walking about by myself in the dark, anyway.”
“All right, then, I will go with you. If I can come right back to bed after. I have had enough excitement for one night.”
So Cassie found herself leaving her snug, warm room in the middle of the night, following Antoinette down the cliff steps to the shore. The pale silver moon was half-obscured by clouds, sending a diffuse, mysterious light across the sky. It was chilly out, but still, with no wind stirring.
She looked up at the moon and the stars, and thought how romantic it all was. How lovely it would be if Phillip was here, with his arms around her. Perhaps he would even kiss her . . .
“No!” she whispered, shaking her head to try to clear it of such silly thoughts. It was only the beauty of the night making her feel all romantical again. If he had not kissed her as they walked alone down the deserted lane, he never would. “I will not think of that right now.”
Antoinette, several steps ahead, stopped and looked back at her. “Did you say something, Cassie?”
“No. Must be the wind,” Cassie answered.
“Hmm.” Antoinette walked on.
Cassie waited at the mouth of the tunnel while Antoinette went in and found her lost item. There were rustlings and knockings, and it was several moments before she emerged again, a small muslin packet clutched in her hand.
“All right, I have it now,” Antoinette said. “You can go back to your bed.”
“Thank goodness!” Cassie said, pulling her cloak hood up. The night, so romantic only moments before, now seemed just cold and rather lonely.
But when they emerged into the moonlight, they found they were no longer alone. Lady Lettice stood on the shore, staring out over the purple-black sea. Angelo, her little dwarf, sat on a large rock nearby, drawing designs in the pebbly sand with a long stick.
Cassie was caught by the sadness on Lady Lettice’s pale face. No wonder the night had suddenly turned so melancholy!
“Good evening, L
ady Lettice, Angelo,” Antoinette said softly.
Lady Lettice looked over at them and gave a little smile. “Good evening.” Her gaze dropped to the little packet Antoinette held. “Is that part of the—apparatus you used to summon me here, Miss Duvall?”
“Yes,” Antoinette answered, tucking the packet away inside her robes. “I am sorry if you are unhappy here. I could try to send you back, if you like.”
Lady Lettice waved her hand in a dismissive little gesture. “It is of no matter. I like it here as well as I did there, in that strange little sitting room. I just went out for a walk, to think about some things without Louisa and Sir Belvedere yammering at me.”
Antoinette walked toward Lady Lettice, the scared young woman who came to Cassie’s room gone and the Yaumumi priestess in her place. Cassie followed slowly, warily watching the supposedly harmless Angelo. But he paid no attention to her at all, just went on pulling his stick through the sand and muttering something about spiced wine and roast beef.
“What are you thinking about, Lady Lettice?” Antoinette asked.
“Nothing of any import,” Lady Lettice replied in a don’t-be-impertinent tone of voice.
“She is thinking about Jean-Pierre,” Angelo piped up.
“Indeed? Jean-Pierre?” said Antoinette. “Is he the reason we had to look for you in the tunnel and not in the castle? Is Jean-Pierre in the tunnels?”
“Of course not! Jean-Pierre is not anywhere. I have looked and looked . . .” Then Lady Lettice seemed to realize what she was saying and snapped her mouth shut. Her lips formed a thin little line.
Cassie stared at her, feeling the night become even colder around her. So Lady Lettice had been thwarted in love, just as Louisa had. It was all too sad.
Lady Lettice looked down at them, her head tilted back haughtily. Cassie did not feel as comfortable with her as she did with Louisa. Lady Lettice seemed proud and reserved, not fun-loving and chatty as Louisa was. But now Cassie could see the lurking sadness in her eyes, and she felt sorry for her.
Finally, Lady Lettice looked away from them and said, “Oh, very well. I may as well tell you the tale. Jean-Pierre has been dead for centuries. And so have I, I suppose!” she added with a brittle laugh.
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