by Linda Fallon
But for today, sweeping, washing, and beating a rug or two had been her only distraction.
Buster and Garrick had spent much of the day hunting. Thankfully, Garrick possessed a small six-shooter he was rather proud of. She supposed they needed a way to pass the time, too. They had come home with several rabbits and, since Elijah had dropped off some winter vegetables this afternoon, Katherine had put together a big pot of rabbit stew for dinner. The simmering pot of stew looked and smelled delicious.
Luckily for her, O’Hara had spent much of the day exploring the house and was unable to harass her. Unfortunately, Lionel had been with O’Hara, so she hadn’t had a chance to speak with him, either. The two men had knocked about the house, exploring every room. Including everything on the third floor.
She had caught glimpses of them, now and then. Completely by accident, of course. Lionel would stand in the middle of a room, close his eyes, and go stone-still. She didn’t know where he went when he did that, but he certainly went somewhere. O’Hara worked differently, touching everything. Walls, furniture, the floor—he moved constantly. He laid his palms here and there, brushed his fingers across surfaces slick and rough. He was never still, and he talked to himself as he worked. Well, either he talked to himself or else he spoke to things she couldn’t see.
She preferred to believe that he carried on a conversation with himself.
Lionel was oblivious to the presence of others as he worked, but O’Hara was not. His eyes had found Daisy more than once, when she’d been bold enough to check on the two men, and he’d smiled widely, like the rogue that he was. She had not smiled back.
Katherine steered well clear of O’Hara. Was she shaken by what he’d said last night, when he’d taken her hands in his? Was it truly possible that she was somehow holding her departed husband in the home they’d shared?
Daisy herself certainly had no intention of allowing O’Hara to touch her. Not simply because he might be able to find a hidden secret inside her, but because he was such an annoying man, and she did not allow such rogues to touch her in any way. Even though Lionel didn’t have to touch her to see secrets, she continued to tell herself that he was too much a gentlemen to use his powers to pry into the minds of the others in this house. He directed his abilities elsewhere, in a productive and strictly professional manner.
O’Hara was not a gentleman, she felt quite sure.
During the long day Hugh Felder had taken notes, talked to himself much as O’Hara did, and often ensconced himself in a room all alone. To Daisy’s way of thinking, that was unwise. Who wanted to be alone in this haunted hotel?
Not her.
“Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?” Katherine asked as she stirred the stew.
Daisy jumped, startled and dismayed by the question. “Of course.”
“I’m not so sure,” the widow said pessimistically.
Daisy tried to be cheerful. “The snow can’t last much longer. Surely by tomorrow …”
“I’m not worried about the snow,” Katherine interrupted.
It was the hotel itself that scared Katherine, just as it scared Daisy. Neither of them wanted to talk about it. “Lucien’s colleagues are quite talented,” Daisy said. “I’m sure they’ll be able to … to fix the place.”
Katherine laughed darkly. “Lucien’s colleagues are a large part of the problem. If what they say is correct and something in this hotel wanted to keep Lucien here to feed off of him, then doesn’t it make sense that the same something is delighted to have a house full of strange men who see and hear things normal people don’t?”
“Maybe,” Daisy whispered.
“Maybe,” Katherine snorted. “I never should have joined this ridiculous ghost society. When you invited me to that dinner party right before Halloween, I should have declined and run for my little house and stayed there.”
“Just because Lucien hasn’t been able to get rid of your ghost yet …”
Katherine spun around. The high-necked black she always wore made her face seem starkly pale. Her black hair was pulled back in a severe bun. Her dark eyes looked too large, too frightened. Katherine was not a woman to be easily frightened.
“That charlatan O’Hara says I’m holding Jerome here. Is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” Daisy whispered.
“What if it is my fault?” The widow took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What if I’m never rid of him?”
Daisy had never seen Katherine so scared. She was frightened not of the hotel and whatever resided here, but of the husband who had mistreated her when he’d been alive. “You will be rid of him,” she said, in her most reassuring voice.
“You’re so damned optimistic!” Katherine blurted. “You think the world is a neat, orderly place where everything makes sense and good always wins and every question gets answered.”
“It doesn’t hurt to expect the best.”
“Yes, it does,” Katherine whispered. “It hurts like hell.”
Before Daisy could respond Lionel stepped into the room, that limp and his long blond hair making him look rather like a pirate. A smiling, handsome, well-dressed pirate. “That smells wonderful,” he said.
“Dinner will be ready soon,” Daisy said, smiling so that her dimples were shown to their very best advantage. She was glad to see the abrupt end of her conversation with the widow Cassidy. It had been leading in a very difficult direction. Katherine had turned to face the stove, so Daisy took over the role of hostess.
“Katherine is a wonderful cook,” she said brightly.
“I have discovered that already,” Lionel said appreciatively. “I’m sure you’re a fine cook, as well.”
Katherine scoffed aloud at that statement.
“Did you learn anything of importance as you explored the hotel today?” Daisy asked to change the subject.
Lionel’s wicked, pirate-like grin faded. “Perhaps,” he said.
Just her luck, O’Hara stepped into the room to stand beside the taller, more handsome Lionel Brandon. “Eve’s going to bring Lucien down for dinner,” he said without a smile.
“That’s lovely,” Daisy said, very much looking forward to seeing her friends.
“No, it isn’t,” O’Hara snapped. “Lucien should stay right where he is until he has his strength back. The hotel is crippling him, and he has no business exposing himself to the most active areas until he’s recovered.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t risk coming downstairs if he thought it was dangerous.”
The two men looked at each other. “I thought you said you knew Lucien,” O’Hara said sarcastically.
“I do.”
“Not very well,” he said sharply. “The man is impossible!”
Daisy was quick to defend her friend’s beloved. “Lucien has always seemed quite sensible to me.”
This time even Lionel snorted.
She was anxious to change the subject. Again. “You never did tell me what you discovered today.” She planted her eyes on Lionel and ignored O’Hara.
“No one should be alone in this hotel,” O’Hara answered. “And I don’t care what the weather looks like tomorrow, I think we should leave in the morning. Even if we have to walk out of here.”
Daisy’s mouth went dry. “Is it really that bad?”
Both men nodded.
“This is not a good idea,” Eve protested as she took hold of Lucien’s arm.
“I’m fine,” he insisted for the tenth time. “I’ll be just as safe downstairs with the others as I am cooped up here.”
“Hugh doesn’t think so,” Eve said softly.
“Hugh is much too cautious for his own good. He always has been.”
He did look much better, and that eased her mind. But this was a quiet room. Not completely quiet, but much safer for Lucien than most of the rooms in this dreadful hotel. If she had her way she’d keep him here until it was time to leave. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to care what she thought.
They left the room arm in arm. Eve wore her wedding gown, which was quite wrinkled but still lovely and elaborate, and Lucien had dressed for dinner in his only available suit of clothes. He did look much better tonight, she decided as they descended the stairway, even though he needed a shave and lots more sleep. There was color in his face tonight, more strength in his step and his hand, and he held himself straight and tall.
Still, he was not himself.
Everyone else was already in the dining room, seated and waiting, and their eyes turned expectantly to Lucien. At once, they all seemed relieved.
It was odd, to have these wedding guests trapped here in the old Honeycutt Hotel. Dressed in their best, a bit the worse for wear but in fine spirits given the circumstances, these were the people most important to Eve. If no one else had been at their wedding but these seven friends, she would have been happy. Of course, Lucien would have had to show up!
Eve and Lucien took the two vacant chairs that had been left for them, those nearest the dining room entrance. Fortunately, O’Hara was seated at the far end of the table. Maybe, just maybe, Lucien was too tired to start a fight over dinner.
She relaxed when Lucien reached for his coffee and didn’t even so much as look O’Hara’s way.
Bowls of stew and tender biscuits made a tasty, filling dinner and were a nice surprise, given the situation. Everyone at the table ate heartily, but there were suspicious glances cast Lucien’s way, as if they all expected him to pass out at any moment.
Lucien must be starving. She had never seen him eat like this! He obviously loved the stew and the biscuits. When they got back to Plummerville, she’d have to get the recipe from Katherine. She needed to learn to feed this man who often got so wrapped up in his work that he forgot to eat.
Eve remained silent while polite conversations went on around her. Daisy spoke about the weather, and so did Buster. Garrick expressed an interest in the design of the Honeycutt Hotel, from a strictly business point of view. Numerous comments on the tastiness of the meal were made, compliments Katherine neatly dismissed.
Lucien said nothing at all. For someone who usually cared little for food, he enjoyed the stew. He savored it, even. His reaction made Eve wonder if there wasn’t something wrong with her own cooking! When he had cleaned the bowl, Lucien leaned back in his chair and studied the people around them, one by one. Their conversations continued, in soft voices. It was a very civilized gathering of old and new friends. After a moment of silent and still reflection, Lucien smiled.
“All these heroes here to rescue me,” he said sardonically. “How curious.”
“Lucien!” Eve said beneath her breath. He might have meant that comment as a thanks of some kind, but it certainly didn’t sound that way!
“These are our friends, Eve,” he said as he glanced down at her with a touch of annoyance in his eyes. “Surely we can speak honestly with our friends.”
“Of course,” she said. A tickle of warning crawled up her spine. She knew how important honesty was to Lucien. Still, hadn’t she convinced him that some things were best left unsaid?
Lucien lifted his coffee cup in mock salute. “And what a motley group of friends these are.”
“I think you should get back to bed,” Eve said, setting her napkin on the table and beginning to stand. Lucien grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down so that she thumped into her seat.
“Not yet,” he said softly. The grip on her wrist was tight. Where had he found the strength? Just a few hours ago he had been so weak.
He looked pointedly at Daisy, who sat at Eve’s side. “Daisy, my dear, you look positively terrified.”
“Well, I …” Daisy began.
“You’re always afraid of something, poor thing. What you really need is a man in your bed,” Lucien interrupted. “Someone who will spread those pale thighs and make you scream and …”
“Lucien!” Eve said, yanking her hand out of his grasp.
“Well, it’s true,” he said defensively. “The woman is tied up in knots. A bit of excitement in her bedroom, a man to make her …”
“Don’t continue,” Eve said icily. “Don’t you dare.” What was wrong with him? Again, she tried to rise and Lucien pulled her into her seat.
“And Buster!” Lucien continued. “A simple man. An ordinary man. A dull, countrified hick who could certainly benefit from the same cure Miss Daisy is in such desperate need of. Perhaps the two of you …”
“That’s enough,” Eve whispered. “Lucien, what’s gotten into you?”
He ignored her. “My good friend Hugh Felder,” Lucien said with a widening smile. “I have never known such a martyr in all my long, weary days. Your wife is dead, Felder, and has been for fifteen years. Yes, it was your fault, but that doesn’t mean you have to live your life like a monk …”
Eve stood quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Obviously Lucien is not well …”
“Lucien is just fine,” he said. He did not try to yank her down into her chair this time. “But coming close to death made me realize how precious our lives are. We shouldn’t waste a moment pretending or suffering when with a few words the truth can be out in the open. Left hidden, lies and secrets fester. You know that, darling. Haven’t I always told you that honesty is best in all circumstances?”
She sat back down of her own free will. “I think you’ve said enough.”
He ignored her as he continued his perusal of the people at the table. “O’Hara, you lecherous scoundrel. Putting your hand up Eve’s skirt was a blunder you will live to regret. Or not. I believe not. I believe I will kill you for touching her.”
Eve closed her eyes and then covered them with her hands. Daisy gasped. At this point, no one else at the table was terribly surprised.
“I didn’t exactly …” O’Hara began.
“You did,” Lucien interrupted.
“It was a mistake,” O’Hara said defensively. “I’d had too much to drink, and I saw this piece of lint on the back of her dress, and …”
“Shut up,” Lucien said, relaxing in his chair and moving his gaze on to Lionel.
Those two men stared at each other for a long moment. Lucien’s smile died. Lionel said nothing as he stared at Lucien with a stony expression on his face. A silent and invisible power passed between them. It was an energy of some kind, like lightning. The air was charged. The hair on the back of Eve’s neck stood. What passed between Lionel and Lucien was a fleeting and potent phenomenon Eve did not understand. All was silent. She wasn’t the only one who felt lost at this moment. Finally Lucien moved his gaze to Katherine.
“My dear, dear Katherine,” he said. “I have been trying not to alarm you, but I suppose you should know the truth. Your dearly departed husband isn’t tied to Plummerville or the house in which you live. He is attached to you like the leech he was in life. He’s here now.”
Katherine went white. Her lips parted.
“He’s standing behind you,” Lucien whispered. “With his hands on your shoulders. No,” he added quickly. “Around your pretty neck. He hates you, so much.”
Katherine bolted to her feet and ran, and Garrick stood and glared down at Lucien.
“I don’t care how ill you are, you have no right to be so callous. How dare you speak to Katherine that way?” Garrick shook his head and left the table, presumably to follow the distraught Katherine.
“Don’t leave just yet,” Lucien called. “I saved the best for last.” He grinned wickedly.
Garrick muttered something obscene as he stepped to the wide doorway between the lobby and the dining room.
“Don’t you want to know who your mother really is?” Lucien asked loudly.
“Lucien, no,” Eve whispered.
Garrick stopped in the arched entrance and turned to face Lucien. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Good Lord, Lucien, you really are sick.”
“If you don’t believe me, ask your father. Or better yet, ask the woman you have called Mother all your life. She ha
tes you, you know. The very sight of you makes her ill. She looks at you and sees your wayward father plowing into another woman. So much hate in little Plummerville.” Lucien licked his lips. “Every time she looks at you she sees your father’s mistress with her legs spread wide. I can’t tell you how many times she wished you dead.”
Garrick went almost as pale as Katherine had. “Eve, what’s he talking about?”
She’d known that someday Garrick might find out the truth about his mother, but this was such a hard way. To have the news tossed at him as if it were a joke was so very, very wrong. “Garrick,” she began.
He shook his head. “I see the truth on your face, Eve. How do you know? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Daisy stood and practically ran behind Eve and Lucien’s chairs, making her escape. “I’m going to see about Katherine.”
“No,” Garrick said. “Let me speak to her. This other matter can wait.”
Daisy stopped in the entrance as Garrick turned and ran. They listened to his quick booted footsteps on the stairs.
“Yes,” Lucien said softly. “Plummerville is filled with nasty little secrets.”
Eve took Lucien’s arm and tried to urge him to stand as she did. “Come on. You’re not well, Lucien. You need to get back to your room.”
As one, Lionel and O’Hara stood. “We’ll help you to bed, Lucien.”
That offer got Lucien’s attention, and he stood quickly. “Not necessary, gentlemen. I’m quite capable of taking my bride to bed without assistance.”
He took her arm and together they left the dining room.
“How could you do that?” she asked when they were alone in the hotel lobby.
“Do what? Tell the truth?”
“I know you think honesty is always best, but Lucien, the things you said … they were rude and unkind and unnecessary.”
“And all true.”
They climbed the stairs together. “And I am not your bride,” she said softly. “In order for me to be your bride, you have to be there for the wedding.”