by Lauren Smith
“Ghosts? You are meeting tomorrow to discuss ghosts?” Of all the answers… And why did he care so much already. Sure, their dance had gone well, the conversation fun until now, and she felt good in his arms. But he still could not see her face properly. So why did this attraction flare so strongly, even to the point of unusual amount of jealousy at the mere thought of her being with another with dishonorable intentions?
She nodded enthusiastically, her hat feathers bobby and flopping over. A gentleness started slipping into his heart toward this slightly awkward woman. Definitely unlike any woman he had spent time with.
“Well, then, this I must see. I would like to come. I will pick you up. What time shall I come to call?”
Chapter 3
Colleen stared at the young Lord of Strathford. She could only see his eyes through his mask. They stared at her intently, and she sensed no malice from him, no making fun. His arm muscles tensed during the ensuing silence.
She worked through her annoying attraction to him to try and find an answer. Could she trust him? His father wanted dealings with her brother. This could just be his way of being polite and escorting her somewhere. Did he feel the sensual tension? She studied him harder, hating that the mask his so much.
When the masquerade idea had hit her, she had thought it inspired. It could be something right out of her favorite novels…heroine immerses herself back into society through mystery and dance. And something she could thrill about during boring lectures her friends sometimes dragged her too. Then again, some of those had proved interesting. However, right this very moment, she dearly wished she had been the boring one and had a regular ball. She wanted oh so much to see his face, read him better.
Lord Strathford simply stared and waited for her answer, neither pushing nor being impatient. It impressed her, and nodded her head as she answered, “Very well, then. You may join me. Meet me here at eight in the morning. Do not be late. I shall not wait upon you.”
“Tomorrow morning?” His voice revealed a small squeak in his surprise, and she hid her smile.
“Yes, tomorrow morning.”
“You planned your own ball the night before a morning meeting?”
“Why yes, I did. As I do not sleep much anyway, it seemed of no import at the time. Why? Will that be too much for you, my lord?” she asked in sweet, sweet tones, daring him to say he would not be able to make it.
“No, of course not. I do admit to some surprise, however, as I have never known a woman to make such early appointments after a ball.”
“You may find, my lord, that I am not like other women. I intend to never marry,” she said decisively. Best get that out now, so there could be no misunderstanding later.
“You are quite the fount of surprises this night,” he said, amusement coloring his tone.
“And what if you find a man whom you would want to marry?”
“I—” Well, she had never thought that through, really. “I cannot say at this juncture, my lord,” she answered primly.
“Fair enough, my lady. Now, as I have been informed that my morning needs to start earlier than I had previously thought, I must go gather up my father and be on my way,” he said as the music ended.
She heard regret in his voice, an emotion matched by her own wayward thoughts. She wanted to explore this feeling her body had around him, a sort of peace yet excitement. For having only met him, it surprised her to feel this safe around him. And his voice… She stopped that wayward thought where it lay.
She curtsied as he bowed, and then wandered toward the wall near where Aunt Julie and Jane sat, holding forth a court of their own of suitors as well as matrons whom had brought their daughters to meet wealthy men. Or so Colleen presumed. She shook her head in wry amusement. Her aunt never seemed worried about finding a mate, and personally, Colleen had never seen the need, either…
Until now… She thought of how her body responded as he pulled her scandalously close during the waltz. Mayhap there was something to be had for being married after all? Well, she would know more when she saw him next and could see him properly without the mystery. Oh, that must be it. Of course. In the clear light of day, she would have a chance to see the real him, the mundane him not wrapped in secrecy. She would see he was quite average, normal, and things would set themselves right again, and her wayward body’s reaction would no longer be an issue.
She smiled broadly at those around her, enjoying the rest of the evening, allowing mild flirting from some would be suitors, but felt no spark, no reaction like the one with Lord Strathford. Maybe she should be worried?
The morning dawned clear and bright, birds chirping, the scent of lilacs wafting up to her open window. She placed her hands on the wooden window sill, and leaning out as far as she safely could, she then took in a deep breath to get as much scent as possible into her whole being.
She turned back to her room and strode to her wardrobe. What should she wear? She pulled out dress after dress, tossing them. So much black and grey, though she did have some color from before her parents’ deaths. They were slightly out of fashion, but not too much so for a morning meeting. She snagged a green one which would show off her eyes, quickly shoving down the thought that she wanted to impress Lord Strathford specifically.
“No, I just want to wear color now that I can,” she told herself emphatically while holding up the short jacket to her chest.
Her maid came in. “Good morning, my lady. Oh!” she exclaimed. “You are wearing the green today? You will be fabulous in it.”
“Yes, I will wear it,” Colleen decided. And she would. “And the matching hat is in a hat box somewhere close. I want to look my best. I have a caller,” she said conspiratorially.
“How exciting, my lady. Who, may I ask?”
“Lord Strathford.”
“Oh my lady! He is wonderful. All the servants say so. He has always been kind. One of our kitchen maids used to work for him until she had to move closer to her mother when she fell ill. She said that he pays fairly and always searching for new ways to make things better for everyone.”
High praise indeed. The talk died down to regular daily things until Colleen was ready.
“Will you wait for him in the Green Room,” her maid asked.
“Of course,” Colleen said as if she had planned it all along.
She went downstairs, all along listening to see if she heard horses in the driveway. Nothing, so she went to the Green Room to wait. But she became restless so moved to the room she claimed as her office. She went to her desk and picked up her book then let out a big sigh. She hated that she needed her spectacles. Not many women her age wore them, but really, she could barely see to read without them.
With a practiced motion, she set them on her nose, fixing the find gold chain around her shoulders. Soon, she became deeply immersed in a book she borrowed on the theories abounding about the afterlife and the existence of ghosts.
“My lady,” Sue said in urgent tones.
“Hmmm what?” she said distractedly.
“Ahem.” That caught her attention. She swiftly turned her head, causing her hat to go askew. She reached up to steady it and reposition her bobby pin.
“My lord! Is it that time already? Goodness. Of course it is. Silly me. I became caught up in my book.” Rambling. She was rambling. Could she please become incorporeal and drop through the floor? Alas, no god took pity on her and allowed her to escape her predicament.
His laugh brought her attention from her dress and staring at the floor to his face. And her breath caught. The full, deep laugh sent warm tingles down her spine. His blue eyes pierced her as if to see right through to the real her and not the one she presented to most of the world. His broad shoulders emphasized by his clothing had her wanting to curl up in the crook of his arms, as if he could protect her. She shook herself free after that thought. She needed no one to protect her.
Even if he did come with her to this unlikely event. A few men had, she reminded herself. Wou
ld be suitors, those interested in the paranormal, and even true believers. However, most of their faithful group remained the women. She simply needed to remind herself that Lord Strathford did nothing special by attending with her.
A lie, her mind whispered.
He barely knew her, and yet here he stood as if he belonged. His smile flashed, and she nearly gasped. His whole face lit up. As she gaped, she heard her maid discreetly clear her throat.
“My lady, I have your cape. There is a wee chill in the air this fine spring morning.”
She allowed her maid to help her into her cape, and it was only then she remembered her spectacles. “Oh!” A little embarrassed, she swiftly took them off and hid them in the pocket in her cape.
As if he did not notice, he held out his elbow. “Come, my lady. I am intrigued as to what this meeting will entail.”
Though she heard an underlying laugh in his voice, she sensed his sincerity to be real. “In truth, I am afraid it may bore you, my lord. Not many men have graced our parlor for these. Some of called it…the hysterics of women who would be better occupied being better wives and producing heirs.” Her blood still boiled when she thought of it.
“That is appalling,” Lord Strathford said.
And by his tone, she believed him and breathed a little easier as she stepped into his carriage. “I usually ride horseback, my lord. So this will put us around front. She gave him the address which he repeated to the driver.
Nerves skittered over her as he looked at her, his gaze unwavering. “My lord?” she finally asked of him.
“Your eyes are amazing, my lady,” he said quietly. “I noticed upon meeting you, even behind the mask. I am going to be utterly honest with you. My father has released me from my duty to produce an heir for my estates.”
She could not have been more shocked than if he said he wanted to turn into a fish and live in the Thames. “As such, though I planned to dance with you to help my father solidify his relationship with your brother, I had no thoughts as to beginning a relationship or to push my suit upon you.”
Her mirth could not be contained. “Lord Strathford, I apologize for my ill timed laughter, but I, too, planned to dance with you to help my brother.”
His quirky smile passed across his lips. “Now that we have both gotten that off our chests, perhaps we can start again on our own terms?”
She canted her head to study him. No pressure for him to produce an heir on his side, wanting to live as her aunt, giving none of her power to care for herself away on hers. Could they even make something work? Did she want to try?
He reached a hand across the aisle and took hers. When their eyes locked gazes and her body came alive in a way she could not wrap her head around, she knew the answer.
Yes.
Chapter 4
Henry wanted to push her for an answer, for the answer he wanted. It took great self-will to sit and wait patiently. Then, he saw the answer in those expressive eyes. Relief washed through him.
“Yes,” she said in a low, husky voice. One he wanted to get her to use again and again.
Could she be as affected by him as he was of her? He hoped so. The carriage slowed as they stared and smiled at each other, goofy grins of an accord. This would be the strangest courtship he had ever heard of. He quite looked forward to it.
He alighted first, holding a hand for her as she descended. Her body came right up to his after the last step. He took a heartbeat too long to give her space, and the tension from them exhilarated every one of his senses like no other woman ever had.
Father had it right. He was in trouble. Reluctantly, he took a step back, tracing his fingers across her palm through her gloves as he removed his hand. Her swift intake of breath gratifying, he made a note to do that again sometime when she wore no gloves and see her response.
They walked up the rose lined sidewalk, the leaves green, more coming, buds poking out. A few shrubs. Not as imaginative or as spellbinding as the Chapman’s estates, but tidy and an attempt at welcoming, he would say. The ornate lion knocker gave him a quick smile. So far, the home was like any other those in the upper echelons of society might have, not something mysterious that one who hosted ghostly meetings might have.
The door opened, and the butler’s perfunctory smile turned to one of joy. “My Lady Harrington!”
“Horace, I have said to do call me Colleen when alone.”
“You are not alone, my lady,” Horace said, giving him the nod.
“I am Lord Strathford,” Henry said with as warm a smile as he could muster under the skeptical glare being given him.
“Horace, this is my friend. He is interested in learning…well, in learning if he would be interested, if you know what I mean.”
Horace’s face lit up. “Of course. You have snagged another innocent bystander, have you not!” he said in what Henry thought to be genuine delight.
Colleen’s face turned to him, and the hope there gave her an almost angelic appearance. And the hit in his solar plexus told him that he had better hope she changed her mind about marriage. Heirs or not, he did not want to live another day without seeing that smile, that face.
“I hope so,” she said in a quiet voice before stepping inside the foyer.
He followed. The inside, though not dark, possessed very few windows for natural lighting to help alleviate the gloom.
The butler led them to a pair of French double doors which must have cost the owner a large chunk of money with the glass stained picture of castles covering the expanse above both doors. The doors creaked—of course they did—and the room they walked into delighted him.
Gargoyles dotted the room, some on marble columns, some on the ground. Angels and creatures of different origins, he thought he saw a dragon and a lion amongst others, showed up in the oddest of places. The chaise lounge in the center of the room had dragon heads which met in the corner where the head lay, tails, with intricate scaling design, came clearer and clearer as they reached the person currently reclining there, a tray of food and tea nearby. A few comfortable chairs sat in a elongated half circle, most of them filled with well dressed women. The chatter came to a complete stop as he came into view.
“Colleen, I see you have brought a guest,” the lady on the chaise lounge said, not bothering to even sit up. “Please, introduce him to us.” Her low, throaty voice could have been in a boudoir anywhere in the world. A bit disconcerting, to say the least.
“This is Lord Strathford. He is…” She stared at him as if asking him permission for something. He gave her a nod, deciding to trust her. “He is my suitor, and as such, is showing an interest in how I spend my time. Oh! I do not mean that in the way it must sound. He truly is interested.”
The woman laughed low, first giving a fond glance at Colleen then an intense one on him. Did they teach that intense gaze here? Or was it that women who looked into the doings of the afterlife saw life on a different plane?
As if by unspoken agreement, both of them waited in silence for her to realize she had not completed the introductions.
“Oh! My lord, this is the Lady Daphne of Stratford-Upon-Avon. She moved here after being widowed. Searching for the ghost of her lost love started all”—Colleen waved a hand, vaguely encompassing the whole of the large, cavernous room—“this.”
And the unspoken reason for her wish to find the afterlife filled him with a poignant compassion which he wanted to share with her. He reached out and touched her shoulder. Her expressive eyes rounded in surprise, then she blinked away a sheen of water. He still hurt from the loss of his mother. If he had lost both at the same time?
He shook his head, before turning to Lady Daphne. With a half bow, he said, “Pleased to meet you. I look forward to learning more.”
“Oddly, my lord, I believe you. It does not happen often that I believe the intentions of men.”
The doors opened before he could inquire as to why that may be. He turned, and another male entered the room. The tension in the room sh
ot up, and though he doubted she did it consciously, Colleen glued herself to his side, her hand threading itself through the crook at his elbow.
“Lord Warwick. It is a surprise to have you back. I thought our little…eccentricities bored you. At least, that is the impression you gave the last time you graced us with your lofty presence.”
Lady Daphne’s words, though proper, gave Henry the sense she intensely disliked him. So why allow him to visit?”
“You are quite right, Lady Daphne,” he said silkily. Henry supposed that others might be fooled into thinking he was being pleasant and graceful, but his voice made him think of dishonorable horse traders. “However, my sister here”—he indicated a woman to the right of Henry—“insists on coming, hoping to talk to our dear father’s ghost. As such, I find it to be my duty to make sure things are done properly and that you are not trying to turn my sister against God and his holy angels.”
Colleen’s grip on him tighten to the point that Henry had to fight a grimace of pain. This man scared her, yes, but he sensed anger as well.
“Of course. Colleen and her beau were about to take the seats here near your sister, so I am afraid that you will need to come sit in the only chair left next to me.”
Henry quickly sat Colleen in the chairs indicated, and seated himself in the one next to the sister, a barrier. He could not say what he could do against a brother protecting a fatherless, and presumably husbandless woman, but he would.
“Now that we are all here, let us start. First, have any of you found anything you would like to share with the group?”
Henry watched with interest in what he felt was a practiced session. Dry, boring, and all based on bible verses and going back to Jesus’ resurrection as a reason to believe that ghosts may actually exist. He listened carefully, noting a few hand gestures which he would not have seen had he sat where Lord Warwick currently purchased his very expensively tailored rump.