Nina Coombs Pykare (11 page)

But he didn’t relax his grip on her. His lips moved against her throat, making her body tremble, making her think thoughts that she shouldn’t be thinking. “There is no one up here to see what we do,” he said. “No one at all.”

She fought to pull herself together. Why had she let herself get so talkative? Now he knew her precarious financial position, he knew she couldn’t leave the castle. That knowledge gave him power over her. Not a comfortable position for her to be in.

“Milord, please! I have a reputation to consider.”

He shrugged. “Many a London lady has a reputation as empty as her pretty head.”

“But I am not a lady. Please, milord! You must let me go.”

He smiled and stepped back from her. “All right, Miss Pierce. But I am not convinced. You’re still a very attractive woman.”

She raised a hand to her disheveled hair. She’d like to believe him, she’d like it very much, but she knew better. “I must go to the girls. There is a great deal to be done.”

“Of course.” His eyes told her plainly that he saw through this as a flimsy excuse, but he stepped aside to let her pass.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

They reached the bottom of the tower stairs without further incident though her knees had begun to falter. She was not sure whether that was from the accident or the viscount’s kiss. His kiss was dangerous to her, in its way, but it wouldn’t harm her as that stone might have. She could hardly believe that someone had tried to kill her. Kill her. The thought sent a chill through her bones even colder than that produced by the stairwell.

Life with Papa had been difficult, fraught with dangers of one kind or another, but no one had ever wanted her dead. And now someone did. It seemed almost impossible to believe, and yet out in the courtyard lay the great stone that had so nearly ended her life.

Her head was beating like a drum. This was all too much for her. She needed time alone—time to think, time to understand. She put a hand to her throbbing forehead. “I must go to my room.”

“You are looking devilish pale,” the viscount said with concern. “Do you feel ill, Miss Pierce? Faint, perhaps?”

She shook her head. “No, no, it’s only that I am not accustomed to having such accidents.” She tried to laugh, but it was far too artificial, too brittle a laugh, to convince anyone, even someone like him who didn’t know her well.

The viscount tucked her arm through his and she had to admit—to herself at least—that she was grateful for the support. Coming back along the corridor, he kept up a cheerful flow of conversation that helped to distract her from the feelings that now threatened to overwhelm her. For the life of her she couldn’t erase the picture of herself, lying crushed and bloody beneath that great stone.

Just as they passed the main staircase Lady Leonore swept to the top of it. Her fashionable gown of pale blue satin was a perfect fit, and her hair was freshly coiffed. Where was the lady’s dresser? Simpson had mentioned that Clinthorn was an older woman, but nothing more had been said of her. So far Edwina had had only that one glimpse of her, in the hall outside the dining hall. But invisible as she might be, the dresser did her job well. Outfitted as she was, Lady Leonore could have attended a London ball among the elite of the ton. She might even have caught the eye of the Prince Regent, though his taste, so Edwina had last heard, had begun to run to grandmothers.

Lady Leonore paused on the top step, a regal figure, glittering with jewels, and surveyed Edwina with icicle eyes. Then she turned to the viscount. “What has happened now?” she demanded, sending a sharp glance at where Edwina’s arm rested through his lordship’s.

The viscount frowned and raised an eyebrow. “A stone fell from the parapet. I’m afraid it narrowly missed Miss Pierce here. And most naturally it rather overset her nerves.”

Edwina felt another wave of faintness coming on, but she fought against it. If only she’d thought to ask the viscount not to mention any of this to Lady Leonore. Or to the earl. But that was probably too much to expect of a man of the viscount’s stamp. As bored as he seemed with life in the country, he would probably welcome any kind of excitement.

Edwina forced herself to stand erect. To swoon in front of the frosty Lady Leonore was unthinkable. The lady’s disdain was already making Edwina want to reply in kind. But in spite of what had happened she fully intended to stay on at the castle. Nothing had changed that. Nothing could. So she would have to bear with Lady Leonore, and her dislike. However difficult it might be to endure.

Lady Leonore shifted her gaze, lifting her aristocratic nose in the air and gazing down it at Edwina as though she’d lost her faculties. “Didn’t I warn you? I warned you about this very thing. My sister is angry. She will not tolerate another woman in this place. I told you that. I told you to go. To leave here while you still could. But no, you couldn’t listen. You had to defy me.”

Edwina stiffened. She might have to work as a governess, but she didn’t intend to cower before anyone, especially not this woman. She kept her back straight and her voice neutral. “I do not believe in ghosts, milady.”

“Indeed.” Lady Leonore’s cold green eyes raked her over so that it was all Edwina could do not to explode with the harsh words boiling in her. Lady Leonore sniffed. “Then how do you explain this so-called accident?” she asked.

“I do not explain it,” Edwina returned. “I cannot explain it.” Not yet, at least, she told herself, but maybe after she got a look at the scrap of torn material in her pocket ... “But I still do not believe in ghosts. They do not exist.”

Lady Leonore shrugged and lifted her disdainful nose even higher. “If you had the sense you were born with, Miss Pierce, you would leave this place far behind you. It’s foolish for you to stay here.”

Edwina met her gaze calmly. “Perhaps so, milady. But I have made a commitment to remain at the castle. And I shall do so.”

Lady Leonore smiled, a smile with no warmth in it, and leaned closer. “Now, Miss Pierce, I am sure the earl will release you from any commitment you may have made.” For a moment she sounded almost friendly, but Edwina plainly read calculation in her eyes. “He is a reasonable man, after all.”

“No doubt he is,” Edwina replied, keeping her voice even, though with some effort. “But milady, I don’t wish to be released. You see I do not take the matter of commitment lightly.”

Lady Leonore gave Edwina another disdainful glance and her voice went cold again. “Very well. I wash my hands of the whole matter. But I must say I believe you’re behaving quite stupidly.”

During the whole of this exchange the viscount had watched bemused, a little smile on his handsome face, his gaze darting with pleasure from one of them to the other. Oh yes, he was enjoying this.

“There will be plenty of time for further insults at dinner,” he told Lady Leonore, raising a caustic eyebrow, and receiving a cutting glance in return. “Now Miss Pierce must return to her charges. She is the governess, you know. The little ones will miss her.” He started off down the hall, his hand under Edwina’s elbow carrying her along with him.

“That’s another thing--” the lady began. But the viscount simply swept Edwina on, propelling her down the hall toward her door. Gratitude swelled up in her. One more cutting remark from Lady Leonore and she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to contain herself.

Outside Edwina’s door the viscount stopped and bowed with a flourish. “I have rescued you from the fire-breathing dragon this time,” he said, giving her that brash grin of his. “But I’m afraid at dinner you’ll have to do your own defending. Of course, by then you’ll be completely recovered. And in any case I trust you have sufficient wit to take care of yourself.”

Edwina couldn’t help smiling at him. He could make just about anything look better. Perhaps because nothing seemed quite so serious when he was laughing at it. “Thank you, milord. Your rescue was much appreciated.”

The viscount bowed low, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Perhaps later I shall collect a token of your appreciation. I believe you know the kind I have in mind.”

Then, before she could voice the remonstrance that had risen to her lips, he turned and went striding off.

Sighing, she made her way into her bedchamber. There was no question that she was attracted to the brash young viscount. Aside from the fact that he was the only reasonably normal adult inhabitant of this household, he was also a personable charming man. She shook her head sadly. All of that meant absolutely nothing. Young viscounts, charming or not, did not marry penniless governesses. To let herself form any sort of partiality for the man could only lead to disaster—and of the worst kind.

But enough of the viscount. She had other things to think about. Withdrawing the scrap of material from her pocket, she hurried to the window and examined it carefully. It was a small triangular piece, evidently torn from someone’s clothing, but whose clothing it was difficult to say. She sighed in disappointment. It was obviously not from a lady’s gown, too dark and too heavy in texture for that. It looked like a piece from a cloak. Her spirits sank. Just a piece of a cloak—and not a particularly good one—anybody’s cloak. If it had been more clearly identifiable, she might be able to find the person it belonged to. She could hardly go about inspecting all the cloaks in the castle. Even if she found the one this piece had been torn from, she couldn’t prove that the person it belonged to had had anything to do with the stone falling.

Fingering the scrap thoughtfully, she settled into a chair. It seemed best to keep this evidence to herself. Convinced of the curse as everyone was, they would probably disregard it anyway, laying it to the ghost. But she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. She couldn’t let herself believe a ghost had been responsible for that falling stone. She frowned. It was equally frightening to believe that the stone had been pushed by a very real, very live, human being. But what else was she to believe?

Chapter Twelve

The day wore on in relative quiet. Edwina forced herself to behave as though nothing untoward had happened. The last thing the girls needed was a high-strung vaporish governess unsettling their already unsettled lives. So they went over lessons, did some reading, and passed the rest of the afternoon in quietly painting watercolors.

In spite of an overabundance of water, Constance’s efforts managed to achieve a sense of brightness. Cheerful oranges and yellows and reds made gay splashes that seemed to reflect her obvious joy in life.

Henrietta’s landscapes, on the other hand, were so stark they made Edwina want to shiver. Scenes of black, dark grays, and deep haunting blues, they spoke of hurt and helplessness—and deep deep despair. Edwina’s heart ached for her, but she didn’t know how to help the child. Not yet.

After their evening meal, she left the girls to their night’s rest and went to brush off her shabby gown for her own dinner, trying to banish the feeling of discomfort that Henrietta’s pictures had evoked in her. She hoped the child hadn’t been permanently damaged by the loss of her mother under such dreadful circumstances. But there was little more to do at the moment. She had already offered Henrietta her friendship, and more than once. But for some reason the child insisted on keeping her at a distance.

Edwina ran a brush through her hair and tied it back with a ribbon. It had come out of her chignon when she fell and she just didn’t feel like putting it back up. She scowled at her shabby reflection in the cheval glass. If she’d owned any less attractive gown than the drab one she’d just put on, she would most definitely have changed into it. For, although matching wits with a Corinthian could be an amusing diversion, she was much too weary this evening, both physically and mentally, to enjoy trading bon mots with the viscount. She didn’t relish giving Lady Leonore the chance to make sport of her either. But she had to eat—and to do that she had to go downstairs to the dining hall.

Deep in thought, she made her way down the great stairs. Though she had some concern about him, the viscount’s presence at the dinner table was actually a blessing. It would be even more trying to be forced to dine with only Lady Leonore and the earl for company. Edwina could just see herself—either completely ignored while the lady engaged the earl in spirited conversation, or, if his lordship lapsed into one of the fits of brooding melancholy that seemed to overcome him, forced to endure the lady’s needle-sharp remarks without even the right to reciprocate.

Yes, considering all the circumstances, Edwina would be glad to see the viscount’s cheerful face. Too bad, though, that she hadn’t thought in time to ask him not to mention today’s ‘accident.’ Now Lady Leonore was bound to bring it up. Determined as she was to get rid of any competition, she wasn’t likely to let an opportunity like this slip past her.

Halfway down the stairs Edwina smiled grimly. A curse that kept young women away from the castle was certainly most convenient. It would assuredly prevent the earl from remarrying anyone—except, of course, Lady Leonore. Edwina frowned. She didn’t like to think of a woman stooping to murder ... She stopped in her tracks. The stone had not hit her. In very fact, it had missed her. So there had been no murder. Perhaps someone was not trying to kill her, perhaps someone just wanted to frighten her away. In a strange fashion the thought was comforting. Shaking her head, she continued on her way.

As she neared the dining room, the earl and Lady Leonore came strolling from the other direction. Edwina bit her bottom lip. The lady was sparing no pains in her attempts to ingratiate herself with the earl. She leaned close to his side, her arm tucked familiarly through his, a smile wreathing her face as she looked up into his eyes.

What a disgusting display—and all so false. Edwina went on into the dining room.

The viscount turned from the window to smile at her. “I hope you are quite recovered,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes, I am. I told you I was fine.”

The earl came in, and dropping Lady Leonore’s arm, hurried across the room, his hawkish face dark with concern. “Miss Pierce, are you quite sure that you have suffered no ill effects from this afternoon? When that stone fell so near you?”