Another scream rang through the room. It whisked the remnants of sleep from his head. A woman’s scream! Egad, he hoped David had not found another colony of bats and set it to prey on someone else tonight. No, that wouldn’t be possible at this hour. The bats would be hunting in the darkness.
Or had the boy set some other prank in motion? During the past week, Lorenzo had found sour milk in his tea, pepper on his facecloth, and a trio of frightened frogs hidden beneath the blanket on his bed. David was, he knew, the creator of each prank, although Lorenzo had yet to catch him in the act of sneaking into his room.
So what was he up to now?
Grabbing his cream satin robe, Lorenzo pulled it around his shoulders as he rushed out into the corridor and right into something soft and silky and wondrously fragrant. Something a man could enjoy being next to for days on end and during nights without number.
“Look out, Lorenzo!” Valeria’s prosaic words were the antithesis of his momentary lapse into fantasy.
And that was all for the good. What was he doing thinking about her like this when he had spent the past two days riding until his bones were sore in an effort to meet what eligible bachelors might be living near Moorsea Manor and arrange for them to call on Valeria? Their number was small, and most of them were either in London or calling on friends elsewhere in England. Lorenzo had ignored the questioning glances in his direction that suggested he was an odd volume for preferring the quiet of the moors to other places.
“Pardon me,” he said when he recalled that Valeria was waiting for an answer, “but I thought to see who might be screeching at this hour.”
“As I did.”
“Is David—?”
“He’s asleep in his room.” Her voice was cool, as it had been since his return to Moorsea Manor this afternoon. He had been curious about that, but she had given him no time to ask a question then, and this was not the time now.
“Are you sure of that?”
Her frown was visible even in the dim light. “He was the first thing I checked, Lorenzo.”
The scream sounded again. Not pausing to see if Valeria followed, Lorenzo sprinted along the hall toward the tall window at the far end. In the light of the half moon, he could see a form clinging to the drapes and staring out at the night.
He seized the young woman by the shoulders and spun her about. “What is wrong? Have you seen bats flying in at this window?”
“Bats, my lord?” She cowered as she looked toward the ceiling. “Here?”
“You tell me.”
“Lorenzo,” scolded Valeria, drawing even with them, “don’t chide the girl when she obviously is distressed almost beyond words.”
“I wish only to discover what has set her screaming.”
The maid gasped, “’Twas a ghost, my lord.”
“A ghost?” He shook his head. “Impossible.”
“I saw it with my own two good eyes.”
“Don’t you know that ghosts are only the offspring of a fertile imagination and reading the wrong sort of novels?”
“I don’t read much, my lord.”
“But you have an imagination, I trust.”
She stared at him as if she feared for the state of his sanity. “I saw a ghost, my lord. ’Tis not my imagination that brought it forth. ’Tis the moonlight and shadows that have given birth to this ghost, my lord.” She raised a quaking finger toward the window. “Look for yourself and see.”
Before Lorenzo could remonstrate, Valeria drew aside the drapes and peered out. “There’s nothing there.”
“But there was, my lady.” The girl twisted her apron in her hands. “I swear ’tis so. I would not lie.”
Valeria smiled gently. “I’m sure you thought you saw—”
“I know what I saw!” Her voice rose on every word. “I was born and raised in this house, and I’ve never seen its like. Taller than a man and with limbs that glowed with a demon’s light.”
Putting her arm around the quivering girl, Valeria said, “You are shaking too hard. Why don’t we sit and calm ourselves? I trust we can use your rooms, Lorenzo.”
“My rooms?”
“Yes, I don’t want to disturb David. He’s become so exhausted lately after his long days of his tramping about the moors with young Gil, so he needs his sleep.”
“As we all do.”
“And which we all shall get once this matter—and its ghost—are put to rest.” She steered the maid along the hall.
When she opened the door to his rooms, Lorenzo sighed. Had any man ever gotten Valeria Fanning to heed his words and halt her headstrong ways? If so, he wished to meet that man straightaway and learn how he had persuaded Valeria to think sensibly.
His bare feet were cold as he went back into his rooms. When he saw Valeria had seated the maid at his writing table and was lighting the lamp there, he rushed forward to collect his papers before they were read.
“I’m sorry to intrude, my lord,” the maid whispered.
“It isn’t your fault.” He dropped the pages onto the messed bed and drew up the covers, not wanting anyone to see the phrases he had been working on tonight. Had he been out of his mind to put pen to words like deep sea-purple gaze and hair the color of a sunrise of expectation? He reached to pull the pages back out and toss them on the hearth, then realized that could call more attention to them.
Valeria poured some of his best brandy into a glass and handed it to the maid. Wide-eyed, the girl looked from her to Lorenzo.
“Drink up,” he said quietly. “It will fortify you and help you sleep.”
“At the same time?” the maid asked.
When Valeria smiled, Lorenzo sighed. Mayhap his cousin Corey had been right when he warned Lorenzo that he needed more experience with women in order to begin to comprehend their ways. Reading about the fairer sex in a book would not serve him in good stead when he was in their company, Corey had told him on so many occasions. Tonight, Lorenzo wished he had heeded his cousin. He did not begin to understand why Valeria scowled at him one minute and wore a lighthearted expression the next.
“Tell us about what you saw,” he said.
“’Twas a ghost, and he—it—I’m not sure if it was a man or a woman or what.”
“It was nothing but moonlight, I assure you. There’s no such thing as a ghost.”
“I know what I saw.”
Lorenzo was startled by the maid’s back-answer. The lass must have been deeply frightened to speak to him with such vehemence. “I know what you think you saw. Drink up the brandy and take yourself off to your bed. You should find that morning light will clear your eyes and your mind.”
“But, my lord—”
“Drink up.”
She nodded and sipped the brandy. As soon as she was finished, he took the glass while Valeria helped the lass to her feet.
“I can’t!” the maid gasped when Valeria bid her to hurry to her bed. “If I see that thing again—” She hid her face in her hands, then hiccuped.
Lorenzo went to the door and threw it open. He was amazed to see Gil coming toward him. The footman should be asleep at this hour. Was the whole house taking after the bats in the old hall and wandering the night?
“My lord!” he cried. “I didn’t—that is—”
Lorenzo waved him to silence. “I’m glad to see you, Gil. I need you to help this young lady back to her room in the attics.” He stepped aside as Valeria led the frightened maid to the door.
Gil grinned as he looked at the maid, who gave him a shy smile in return. “Glad to do that, my lord.” He held out his hand to the maid.
She took it as her smile widened. “Thank you, my lord, my lady.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Gil as he led her along the hall. “And thank you, Gil.”
Lorenzo stifled a groan as Valeria tugged on his sleeve and whispered, “I do believe those two should have someone watching over them.”
“Valeria—”
As always, she paid him no mind. She crossed the outer chamb
er and knocked on a door.
Kirby groggily came to the door and mumbled, “Yes, my lord.” His eyes bulged in his face. “My lady!” Looking past her to Lorenzo, he gulped.
Lorenzo fought a yawn and said, “Lady Fanning is concerned that young Gil might need a duenna.”
“My lord?”
“Just go and keep an eye on him so we might all get some rest tonight.”
“Yes, my lord.” He pulled on a robe and lurched out of the room.
“Thank you, Lorenzo,” Valeria said with a smile.
How could she look so lovely at this hour when he was sure he resembled something dragged back and forth through a knot-hole? Her luxurious hair was pinned primly up for sleep, and her eyes were soft and hooded with not enough sleep. The lace on her wrapper flowed around her face like the petals of a flower.
“I did nothing.” His exasperation at her turned inward, for he should not be admiring her at the same time he was vexed with her.
“Thank you anyway.” She wrapped her arms around herself as she sat on the chair by the desk. “I wonder what she really saw.”
“Mayhap we can get some sense out of her when she is not so frightened.”
“I doubt that. She honestly believes that what she saw was a ghost.”
“And she is wrong.”
“Mayhap, but she saw something. It should be looked into before the rest of the house is scared by tales of a haunting.”
“There’s no such thing as a ghost,” he repeated for what seemed like the twentieth time.
Hearing a laugh behind him, he turned to see Earl standing by the hearth. The old man held a candle high, its light stronger than the weak glow of the lamp on Lorenzo’s desk.
“I would not be so certain of that when you’re standing in a house this old,” Earl said. Without waiting for an invitation, he sat on the raised hearth. “There have always been sounds and sights here that folks couldn’t explain.”
“But ghosts?” Lorenzo shook his head with a grimace. “Fear will make folks believe they have seen things they can’t explain.”
“True, true.” He chuckled again as he balanced the candle on the knee of his worn breeches.
“Valeria, this is Earl,” he said when the old man looked past him and smiled.
“I know Earl. He has been kind enough to arrange for my hearth always to be well-lit. Good evening.” She gave him a warm smile before scowling at Lorenzo again. “However, Lorenzo, you are ignoring my point completely.”
Egad, she intended to continue this bangle in front of the old man. “I will have someone go out and see what might be on the lawn.” When she began to smile, he added, “In the morning.”
“It might be gone by then.”
“Any self-respecting ghost would be,” Earl said with a chuckle. “Ghosts don’t like sunshine.”
Valeria smiled again. “You know a lot about this house, Earl. Have there been other reports of ghosts?”
“Of course. Headless monks, lovers who cast themselves from the walls, all of the customary sorts. Mayhap the lass saw one of them.”
“One of them?” Lorenzo shook his head. This discussion was leading nowhere. “Please do not burden us with more than a single ghost at a time.”
“So you believe it might have been a ghost?” Earl asked, surprising him.
“Of course not. In spite of all you have said, I believe in what’s right before my eyes, and that is not a ghost.”
Earl came to his feet and laughed. “I bid you good night, my lord. I hope your dreams are less mundane than your words.”
Rising, Valeria said, “I should return to my bed as well.” She went to the door and opened it. “Good night, Lorenzo.”
He put his hand on the open door. “I hope the rest of it is a quiet one.”
“I’m sure it will be. One ghost a night is sufficient.”
“More than sufficient.”
A dimple he had never noticed in her left cheek teased his fingers to touch it, but he clenched his hand at his side and the other around the door. “Good night, Valeria.” He smiled. “That is, if you don’t need someone to walk you to your rooms in case you encounter a ghost.”
“No, I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”
“The ghost?”
She raised her hand toward his face, then lowered it quickly to her side. “No, not the ghost.” She whirled and, in a cloud of white, vanished into her rooms.
Lorenzo closed the door and looked across the rooms to where Earl had added wood to the fire. He sat in the closest chair as he stared into the flames. For once, he had understood Valeria completely. Gil and the lass had needed a watchdog to keep them, but Valeria suspected the same could be said for her and Lorenzo, so she wisely had demurred when he offered to escort her.
Dash it! He needed to step up the search to find her a husband before one of them did something that could make this complicated situation even more complicated.
Like surrendering to his overwhelming urge to kiss her.
Valeria sighed as she closed the magazine and set it on the table beside her in the sitting room that was now free of spiders. How much she had taken her years in London for granted! She had delighted in the chance to visit her favorite modiste, to chat with her friends during an at home, to enjoy an occasional evening at Almacks’s, and especially being a hostess for parties that drew the élite de l’élite and luminaries like politicians and poets. It had been such a short time ago that she had introduced the French poet Marquis de la Cour to the Polite World. Now she was on the far side of England, lost in this desolate place where nothing ever happened—no gossip, no fashion, no anything.
She went to look out the window, then turned away. If Lorenzo went for his ride, as he did every day at this hour, and chanced to see her peering out at him, he would think her even more of a problem. She had tried to remain quiet so he could work uninterrupted, and she was thankful that Gil was keeping David amused by taking him through every field and bog on the moors. The two were becoming good friends, because almost every sentence David spoke began with “Gil did” or “Gil said.”
At a knock, Valeria turned. “Come in.” The door opened, and she gasped, “Lorenzo!”
He held the brim of his tall hat in his hands. The well-tailored lines of his riding coat emphasized his lean height. His pantaloons looped beneath boots which wore a recent polish.
“I thought you’d left,” she said before she could halt the words.
“Excuse me?”
She ran her hand along the back of a chair and struggled to smile. “I know, you ride each day. Please don’t think that I’m keeping tabs on you.”
“No need.” He smiled and tapped his hat onto his head. “I know I am a creature of habit. However, today I am delayed because I was receiving Mr. Pettit from Bristol.”
“We had a caller, and you did not tell me?” She looked away as heat soared up her face. “Forgive me, Lorenzo. This is your house, and your callers are none of my business.”
He laughed, but gently. “If I had thought you might be intrigued with the discussion I was having with Mr. Pettit, I would have sent for you to join us. I did not think you would enjoy our mutual interest in my uncle’s odd collections.”
“Mr. Pettit came from Bath to see the jumble in this house?”
“Apparently he and my uncle were in correspondence about some items that Mr. Pettit has long been intrigued with the idea of purchasing from him. I told him I would give the matter some thought, although I am loath to allow anything to leave this house yet.” He smiled. “But that is not why I came to your rooms. I thought you might want to join me today. Would you like to join me for a ride across the moor?”
“Join you?” She stared at him. “You want me to go for a ride with you?”
“If you prefer not to …”
“No, no!”
When that teasing smile curved along his lips, she wondered why she was acting like a witless child. Mayhap because she never could
guess how he would act. One moment, he was making it clear that she was a burden he could not wait to rid himself of. The next, he was the most gracious, genial host she could ever imagine. And on the rare occasions when he touched her … No, she did not want to think of that, of how all thoughts of the contemptible turns her life had taken, all thoughts of how she longed to be back amid the whirl in London, even all thoughts of her anger at her brother who had betrayed her and David—everything vanished beneath the craving for him to touch her again.
So why was she agreeing to go with him alone as soon as she could change into her dark green riding habit? She did not want to think of that either.
Lorenzo drew back on the reins and looked out across the rolling hills. To the north, waves curved around a headland and crawled up onto the shore, leaving white foam. That foam seemed to be splashed upon the hills as sheep dotted the fields. Taking a deep breath, he could almost believe he was back at Wolfe Abbey, for that house, too, overlooked the sea. Now he understood why his mother had loved her husband’s family’s home and had not missed her own.
Or had she? He had no idea, because this part of her life had been denied to him. Curiosity taunted him anew. What had driven his mother and her brother so far apart that they had not been able to reconcile years later?
“My uncle never spoke to you of his sister?” he asked.
Valeria glanced at him, and he could see she was startled by the sudden question. With a sympathetic smile, she shook her head. “The few times I saw him, I was very young. As I recall, he spoke to me of things that one would speak of to a child. Not knowing what drove him and your mother apart bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“The questions prey on my mind. I knew my mother well, and she was a good, kindhearted woman. Until now, I would have sworn that she would be able to forgive anyone for any crime against her. Yet she could not find it in her heart to forgive her only brother.”
“Mayhap she tried, but he would not allow that.”
“Do you know of some quirk of his that would have prevented a reconciliation?”
Again she shook her head and put up her hand to keep her hat from being carried away by the breeze that was growing more powerful as they followed the curve of the stone wall up the hill and away from the trees clinging to the road. She steered her horse around a prickly bush. “Your uncle offered only the greatest benevolence to me. If not for him, I would never have married Albert.”
The Convenient Arrangement Page 9