Laurie Brown

by Hundreds of Years to Reform a Rake

  She appealed to Amelia for support. “You can’t seriously think he...”

  Amelia looked to Deverell.“When you go back, will you confront Sir Albert? Perhaps he knows where the jewels are?”

  “Bah!” Deverell’s mouth twisted with a sour taste at the very thing that had obsessed his mother and caused her to fall prey to every charlatan who claimed a dubious connection to the afterlife.“The emeralds are a myth perpetuated by fools and believed by the foolish. I, Madame, am neither.”

  “Who is Sir Albert?” Josie blurted out.

  Deverell wished Amelia hadn’t mentioned that despicable old pirate, but now that she had, he must offer some sort of explanation. “Albert was the ghost of the castle prior to me.”

  Josie put her fingers to her temples and pressed.

  “Two of them?” she muttered. Her equipment had detected nothing!

  “Please pay attention. I find repeating myself quite tedious.Albert was here prior to me, and he is not relevant to my plan.Now as to the matter of your role...”

  She shook her head.“You’re crazy.Your plan is crazy. And I’d be crazy to listen to any more of this...this...nonsense.” She turned and went to the door.

  Over the years Deverell had refined the skills of a simple poltergeist to a fine art.With no more effort than a flick of his fingers, he caused the door to shut and the lock to click into place. She was his best hope for success, and he could not let her walk away before she’d had a chance to fully consider his offer. Surely she would come to her senses. He allowed Josie a few minutes to struggle with the door and with herself. His inquiries had led him to believe that she would embrace an opportunity for unusual research, but the behavior of modern women was difficult to predict. Particularly, that of modern American women.

  Josie stared at the immovable door. Somehow she knew that Deverell was responsible. How dare he presume to keep her prisoner? She tugged on the doorknob with both hands. That ghost was a menace. Ghost? Damn.

  Of course she’d always hoped to find definitive evidence of a ghostly phenomenon. As a paranormal investigator she should have been prepared for the unexpected. So what had she done in the face of the overwhelming experience of coming face-to-face with a fully materialized ghost? Had she reached for the digital camera in her purse? Tape recorder? Any device?

  No. She had tried to leave.

  She let her head fall forward, banging it on the ornate carved wood, but even pain couldn’t stave off the hot blush of embarrassment that had been the bane of her red-headed existence. Where was her professionalism? Her scientific detachment?

  “All I ask is that you hear me out,”Deverell said.

  She took a deep breath and released it slowly to the count of ten. Panic attack under control and outwardly composed, she returned to her chair and took out her camera. Since none of her scientific instruments had previously detected his presence, she held slim hope that the small camera would, but she had to try.

  “May I?” she asked him.

  After she was seated he also returned to his chair.

  “Yes, however,” he hesitated at the flash then con-tinued,“ I doubt you’ll be satisfied with the results.”

  The tiny screen displayed an empty chair. She adjusted the settings. “Say cheese.” Again nothing. On the fifth try she got a hazy spot that could easily be a reflection of the fading sunlight.With a muttered curse she dropped the useless piece of equipment back into her purse.

  “Shall I continue?” Lord Waite asked as if her rash exhibition hadn’t taken place. Josie nodded, then picked up her cup of lukewarm tea, concentrating on keeping her cup from rattling against its saucer.

  “I have determined that the best time for you to be present for a séance will be at one of my mother’s frequent summer house parties. In order to act the part of a guest, certain training will be required. Amelia and I will tutor you in manners, decorum, and dress. I have written instructions.” He handed Amelia some folded papers. “I am allowing one week for this course of study.”

  “That’s insufficient,” Amelia argued, leafing through four pages of precisely spaced, flamboyant handwriting. “Young women spent years learning what you expect Josie to absorb in days.”

  “One week will be sufficient. Miss Drummond’s letter of introduction will place her as the long-lost, great-niece of the Duke of Landemere. Society always welcomes excellent breeding. As the heiress to a significant legacy, any faux pas will be tolerated as an eccentricity. In fact, from an American, less than perfect behavior will be expected.”

  Josie bristled at the insult. “I thought the essence of good manners was not to offend,” she said with mock innocence. Satisfied at their twin expressions of chagrin, Josie changed the subject. “Other than the obvious flaw in your grand plan, that being the whole time travel thing, won’t the Duke object to a surprise relative?”

  Deverell had quickly masked his contrite expression with one of bored indifference. “Luckily, his grace was in his dotage and quite the recluse. Never left his estate. Never had any visitors. Perfect for my purpose.”

  “How accommodating of dear Uncle Landy,” Josie said with an oh-so-sweet smile. Although Deverell had dropped the ugly American theme, his superior attitude kept her on the defensive. She didn’t like lying, and she told him so.

  “A certain shading of the truth is necessary.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “If it makes you feel better, you are, in fact, related to Landemere on your mother’s side through his sister who married an American before the Colonial War. Satisfied? Now may I proceed?”

  He was crazy, and obnoxious, but Josie couldn’t deny her curiosity or her attraction to him. He was, hands down, the most interesting man she’d met in...ever. She nodded.

  “I will be there to smooth over any difficulties. Once at the house party, you will observe the séance and expose the fraud. I’ll bring you back to the present, and the problem of finances will have been solved at the source. Simple and straightforward.” Deverell sat back as if he expected applause for his brilliant scheme.

  Amelia complied.“What a marvelous idea.”

  Josie tuned out the gushing praise and sorted through the facts. She firmly believed that any attempt at time travel would fail.Obviously,Deverell wasn’t up to date on physics. But, if she agreed to play along with his plan, she’d have seven full days to question the ghost about his existence.Think of the value to her research.This was the opportunity of a lifetime. She’d get the BS Grant for sure. On the other hand, she’d also have to spend a week with the overbearing, devastatingly handsome Lord Waite.

  “Why do you need me?” she asked. “You said you would be there.Why don’t you do it yourself?”

  Deverell nodded, a tacit acknowledgment that her question was intelligent and appropriate, something he seemed to have difficulty admitting aloud.

  “Naturally I first considered accomplishing this myself. However, since I was alive at the time, if I were to appear fully materialized, I could offer my mother advice only as myself. Guidance I’m quite sure she would ignore.”

  Deverell forestalled Amelia’s argument with an elegant swipe of his hand.“I have no illusions about my mother’s opinion of my rakehell, misspent life.” He pulled on the cuffs of his jacket. “The other option, disguising myself and attending the séance as a ghost, would only prove the gypsy seer’s proclaimed ability.”

  Josie nodded her acceptance of his explanation.

  “I know the seer was a charlatan,” he said.

  Her experience supported his belief. If a ghost could be produced on demand, her job would be much easier.“Why me?” she asked again.

  Deverell cleared his throat. “I do not have the expertise necessary to determine how the seer produced her apparitions,” he mumbled his confession quickly, without looking at Josie.

  That was probably as close as he’d get to admitting he needed her. Josie suppressed her smile with the same effort Deverell had undoubtedly exerted to swallow his pride.

&nb
sp; “I accept your offer,” she said.

  Deverell smiled.

  “On one condition.”

  His quick grin faded.

  “Of course, you’ll be paid,” Amelia said. She squinted and bit her bottom lip as if calculating the balance in her checkbook.“This is a bit beyond the terms of your contract.”

  Josie fought the irrational desire to make him smile again, fought the warmth his seductive grin had started inside her. She had a sneaking feeling the phrasing of her condition would prove important, and she wanted to cover all her bases.

  “My contract stands, as I had originally expected to spend another week or so here. If you still wish to proceed despite the certainty of failure...”

  Deverell tilted his head and motioned with his elegant hand for her to continue.

  “I’d like your word that you’ll answer all of my questions about your existence to the full extent of your knowledge.” Josie had felt confident with her request when he clamped his jaw so tight that a muscle in his neck throbbed, but her fleeting elation changed into uncertainty when he visibly relaxed.

  “I accept,” he said with another devastating smile.

  What had she left out? Why did she feel like the kid with the short half of the candy bar?

  “With one condition of my own,” he added.

  Uh oh. What could he want? Josie held her breath.

  “You will not monitor my every movement with your infernal gadgets.”

  “My scientific instruments will provide important material for future analysis and reference.That material is the only reason I agreed to your scheme.”

  “Let me assure you that I am capable of expending the appropriate amount of negative energy to erase any recordings you may make. However, I am asking for your word that it will not be necessary.”

  Josie crossed her arms.“I’m a scientist by inclination and education. I cannot change my nature on your whim.”

  Deverell’s laugh sounded more like a bark. “Hardly a whim. Dodging your monitors has proven a bothersome restriction. As to your inclinations, you will gain much in the form of empirical knowledge. No recordings. However, I will concede so far as to allow you to record your observations the old-fashioned way.You may take notes.That is my condition.”

  Josie was tempted to argue. Here was the perfect excuse to call off the whole deal. If she did walk away, would she always regret the missed opportunity? Maybe. Probably. Definitely. She agreed before common sense made her change her mind.

  “Excellent!” Deverell said. “We shall begin immediately.”With a flick of his wrist, he caused two books to fly off the library shelf and into his grasp. He held the volumes out toward Josie.

  “How did you do that?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “Make those books jump into your hand?”

  “Did I?” he answered, looking from the books to the shelf.“I wasn’t aware....”

  His expression reminded her of a boy caught near a broken window with a baseball bat in his hand. Josie wasn’t buying the innocent act. “You agreed to answer my questions. Going back on your word already?”

  “Certainly not. A gentleman’s word is not to be doubted.”

  She gave him a stare that said I’m waiting.

  Deverell’s lips twitched as if to subdue a smile.

  “Don’t you have documented instances of a poltergeist moving objects?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said.“But I want to know how you do it.”

  Deverell shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it one way or the other. In the future, I will endeavor to pay closer attention to my actions so I can keep to the letter of our agreement,” he said, presenting the books again.

  Realizing that was all the answer she was going to get for now, Josie leaned forward and took the heavy volumes, careful not to touch his hand in the transfer. She wouldn’t exactly admit she was afraid of physical contact with the ghost, but she justified her precaution as scientific prudence. When she peeked up at him, he gave her a knowing grin.

  “Can you read my mind?” she asked, voicing a sudden fear and trying to remember all her earlier thoughts.

  “I’m a ghost,” Deverell said. “Not some sort of common psychic entertainer. I cannot read minds, nor would I want to if I could.”

  Josie sighed in relief.

  “In my day I was deemed an exceptional card player. A reputation founded less on luck than on my ability to read nuances of behavior in my opponents and bet accordingly. Your thoughts are, at times, quite obvious.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a gambler.”

  “Oh, but I think you are.You’re still here, aren’t you?”

  Desperate to change the subject to anything other than herself, Josie dropped her gaze to the books in her hands, The Honours of the Table and A System of Etiquette, both from 1804. She looked at him with her eyebrows raised. “A little light reading before dinner?”

  Deverell either missed her sarcasm or chose to ignore it.

  “Those volumes will give you the basics. Because total immersion is the quickest method of learning, we will recreate as nearly as possible the conditions of my mother’s house party.” He paused and then said,“You will live for the next week as if in the year 1815.”

  Josie found his habit of making statements as if they were royal pronouncements particularly annoying.

  “What about the servants?”

  Amelia’s voice startled Josie. She’d practically forgotten that the older woman was in the same room. Josie peeked guiltily at the ghost and caught him glancing back in much the same manner.

  “Won’t all this seem strange?” Amelia continued, stacking the used dishes onto a tray.“What am I supposed to tell them?”

  Josie laughed at the shocked look on Deverell’s face. He’d obviously never considered it necessary to explain his actions to servants. However, he quickly recovered his composure.

  “You might tell them that your inn will have a Regency theme and that this is a practice run.”

  He said inn with a derisive curl of his upper lip. He must have practiced that look in the mirror to scare off dogs and salesmen.What about scaring off curious paranormal researchers? Josie shivered, hoping he’d never turn that sneer on her.

  Deverell rose and assumed a position on the right side of the fireplace where he’d first appeared. He propped one elbow on the mantle in a pose similar to that of his portrait. Had the artist chosen that particular stance because it was his usual preference? Or had Deverell copied the portrait because it showed his physique to advantage?

  Particularly tall for a man of his time, Josie figured him at just a shade under six feet. More than enough for her, at five foot two, to have to stretch her head back to look him in the eye when they both were standing. Because she was seated, her neck ached with the effort, and she dropped her gaze.A modern man would probably consider the high collar and lavish cravat too feminine to be worn by a man. On Deverell, the froth of linen and lace served to highlight the masculinity of his slightly aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and strong jaw. His cutaway coat accented his broad shoulders, an embroidered silk vest fit snugly across his flat stomach, and his closely tailored breeches left little to her imagination. A warmth that started deep within her threatened to erupt in a hot blush, and she forced herself to look at the fancy buckles at his knees.

  “Or you can say Miss Drummond is tempting your ghost...to appear,” Deverell said with a wide smile that caused a deep dimple to wink momentarily in one cheek.

  He was talking about the explanation to the servants, wasn’t he? Josie sat up straighter. “I’d rather you didn’t put words in my mouth,” she said to him.

  Deverell tipped his head back and looked down his nose at her. “If you thought the ploy would work, would you use it?”

  Josie had to admit she would.

  “Then I am simply saving the time it would take to manipulate the conversation so you would make the suggestion yourself.”
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br />   “Your logic is lacking. I...I might not respond as you expect.” Josie’s argument sounded weak, even to herself.With disgust she realized that her usually dependable brain went fuzzy when he smiled at her.When was the last time a man had made her stutter over her words? But he wasn’t a man. He was a ghost. If she was getting this goggle-eyed over a bona fide specter, handsome or not, she needed to get out more often.

  “Manifestation uses energy,” he said, breaking into her self-chastisement.

  She focused on his words and tried not to let his deep intoxicating voice distract her.

  Two

  “M ANIFESTATION USES ENERGY AND I DO not have an unlimited supply. By my calculations I can spend only a few hours a day in this form without depleting my reserves,” he continued. “I see no point in wasting precious time pacifying servants or applying verbal balm to your outraged sensibilities.”

  His insulting attack was a bucket of cold water to her senses, but the information he’d inadvertently disclosed caused her to duck her head to hide a satisfied grin. Already her agreement to cooperate was yielding valuable material. A ghost had a definable and limited amount of energy that he could choose how to expend.

  “In that case, I agree with you,” Josie said. She made a mental note to start keeping a journal. She didn’t want to forget any tidbit of information that could prove valuable later.

  “Well, I don’t agree,” Amelia said. “Neither of you seems to understand how difficult it is to keep decent servants.” She stood and straightened her sweater over the waist of her tweed skirt. “I’ll call a staff meeting and use both explanations, the Regency theme for the inn, and Josie setting bait for the ghost.” She looked meaningfully at Deverell. “This scheme had better work, because I’ll probably have to pay them extra.”