Nina Coombs Pykare (10 page)

He touched her arm. “Let me show you, then. You must let me come along. I cannot have you going up there alone. Not after what has happened. It wouldn’t be gentlemanly.”

Edwina debated with herself. She really didn’t wish to leave the girls alone for long, not after such a scare. It would take much longer for her to find the door herself. Surely there could be no real harm in allowing the viscount to show her the way to the tower. “All right,” she said. “Show me.”

* * * *

In the library, Charles stared morosely into the fire. Had he made a mistake letting this new governess into the castle? That stone could not have fallen by itself. God! When he’d heard the crash, he’d feared for his girls. His heart had jumped clean into his throat and he’d been sure something awful had happened to them because he’d allowed that stubborn young woman to take them out of the safety of the castle.

All kinds of horrors had tumbled through his head, in the brief moments during which he jumped from his chair and hurried to the window. What he saw in the courtyard raised an exclamation of dismay to his lips. Something had happened to Miss Pierce! She lay flat on the ground, the remains of the great shattered stone behind her giving mute testimony to the cause of the crash that had roused him.

A cry escaped him at the sight of the girls rushing toward her. They were safe, thank God, standing there with white faces, staring down. He was about to turn to the door and go to them when Crawford extended a hand and helped Miss Pierce to her feet. She was able to stand, so she must be all right.

Charles frowned. He’d have to keep an eye on Miss Pierce. Crawford had a way with the ladies, and no one here to practice on since Leonore had made her dislike of him so patently obvious. Crawford was a good enough sort, but a little on the wild side. It wouldn’t do to have him taking advantage of a young woman like Miss Pierce.

As Charles watched, the little party moved toward the door. He heaved a sigh of relief. The girls were all right. And Miss Pierce seemed no worse for her near miss with the stone.

He went back to his chair. They were all well. He could think about Catherine again. But what could have caused a stone to fall like that?

* * * *

As Edwina followed the viscount into the deserted wing of the castle, she considered the events of the last hour, her mind racing in mad circles. Who could have wished her dead? And why? She had no enemies that she knew of. She had done nothing to bring harm to anyone in the castle, nor to the best of her knowledge even to make anyone dislike her. And after all, she’d only been here one night. There was the curse, of course. Could Lady Catherine’s ...

No! She definitely didn’t believe in ghosts. She repeated that firmly to herself. At least she didn’t want to believe in ghosts. Ordinary life was difficult enough without interference from the supernatural. Still, she could hardly believe that a stone had fallen accidentally onto the very spot on which she had just been standing. Such a coincidence demanded too much belief in the workings of fate.

The viscount paused at a closed door and turned to her. “This stair goes up inside the tower and leads to the parapet,” he said, his handsome face unusually sober. “Are you really sure you want to go up there?”

“Of course I’m sure.” She rather wished he would go with her. The thought of going up on the parapet alone was more than a little frightening. If someone had pushed the stone, and that someone was still up there ... But she would find out nothing by running and hiding like a scared rabbit. She regarded the viscount evenly. “You need not come along, milord. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“What!” he exclaimed, with a hint of his old brash smile, “Surely you don’t expect me to leave you to the mercies of the ghost.”

“I do not believe in ghosts,” she said firmly. “There has to be some other reason for what happened. Some logical reason.”

He shook his head, but all he said was, “Very well. But I intend to accompany you anyway.” He opened the door, stood aside with a slight bow, and motioned for her to pass through before him.

The narrow winding staircase was dimly lit through very small windows—actually more like slits—in the thick stone walls. The walls themselves were dirt-encrusted, festooned with spider webs, and altogether the filthiest things she’d ever seen. And the stairwell was icy cold, the kind of cold that pierces clear to the bone and lingers long after a person gets out into the sun again.

Clutching her skirts close, Edwina shivered, hoping the spiders would keep their distance, and made her way up the steep stairs. She pushed open the door to the roof, and had to stop and blink hard, pressing a hand against the wall to steady herself. The sunshine was so bright after the darkness of the tower that it almost blinded her. She shaded her eyes with her free hand and looked about. The view was wonderful. It was easy to see why Lady Catherine had loved it up here.

In one direction lay the sea, capped by little white waves, shimmering green in the sunlight. Inland, the green Dover countryside extended for long long distances. This must have been a lovely place to walk of an evening. Edwina could almost see the earl, Lady Catherine by his side, and the girls chattering merrily nearby while they took the evening air.

“I’m afraid you’ll find nothing up here,” the viscount said, pulling her thoughts back to her brush with death. “Ghosts do not leave tracks, you know. They’re beings of spirit. Ethereal and all that.”

“As I said before,” she retorted with rather more fervor than was needed, “I do not believe in ghosts.”

The viscount shrugged. “That is your right. For myself, I do not believe in thunderstorms that dislodge great stones, especially long after the storm in question is over.”

She gave him a scathing look. What kind of pea brain did he think she was? “Neither do I. I said that for the benefit of the children. I didn’t want them frightened any more than they already were. Of course no thunderstorm dislodged a stone of that size.” She moved toward the big gap in the parapet that showed where the missing stone had once rested. The mortar on the surrounding stones was crumbled, but it was impossible to tell what could have caused the missing one to fall from its place.

While the viscount looked out over the park land to the left, she tested the stones surrounding the gap. They were all firmly mortared in place. It seemed unlikely that only one would have come loose. And to fall like that ... Absently, she ran her fingers around the edges of the gap. At the outer edge, they encountered something soft, not at all like stone. She leaned forward to look. Could a scrap of material have been caught on the rough edge of a stone? Could someone have leaned over and ...

“Have you found something there?” the viscount asked, turning back to her.

“No, no.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “The stones are rough here. I’m just looking at them.”

He nodded. “Be careful then. Don’t scrape yourself.”

“Yes, I’ll be careful.” She closed her fingers around the scrap without looking down at it. It was not that she didn’t trust the viscount, but she didn’t know any of these people that well yet. So it was best to keep what she’d found to herself, for the time being at least.

She looked around. “I just don’t see how that stone could have fallen accidentally.”

“Ghosts,” he suggested again with that cheerful grin.

“Oh, do be sensible.” She put her hand into her pocket, pushing the scrap safely down before she withdrew her handkerchief. “Why should a ghost want to harm me?” she asked, wiping the mortar dust from her hands. “I have done nothing to hurt anyone. Nothing at all.”

The viscount sobered and gazed speculatively toward the sea. “Who’s to say? Perhaps Catherine—her ghost—thinks you are taking her children away from her. Remember, she has cursed all young women who set foot in the castle. Perhaps she has other reasons. I doubt if ghosts need to be rational.”

Edwina shook her head, but she couldn’t quite keep the cold shivers from scampering over her, turning her flesh clammy even in the warm sunshine. “From all I hear Lady Catherine was a kind gentle person. Surely she wouldn’t want to harm her children. Surely she would want them to be well cared for.”

The viscount shook his head, his eyes sad. “I’m afraid there is no accounting for ghosts.” He gestured around him. “This was her favorite place to walk of an evening, you know. She adored looking out over the countryside.”

Edwina nodded. “But that story of the earl’s mother-- Did she fall from here, too?”

The viscount nodded. “Yes, but Catherine thought that was only an accident—until she started to hear the voices.”

Edwina stiffened. “Voices? She actually heard voices?”

His face sober, the viscount nodded. “That’s what she said. She said they called to her.”

Another shiver ran over Edwina’s flesh. Ghosts might call to people—given the possibility that there were ghosts. But she wasn’t going to believe that ghosts were calling to people here. Surely spirits didn’t leave pieces of their clothing behind when they went after people. Surely spirits didn’t wear clothing that could get caught on sharp stones.

She turned back toward the door, her heart pounding. She wanted to be alone, she wanted to see what she had hidden in her pocket. “I must go to the girls,” she said. “We must begin lessons today.”

A peculiar look crossed the viscount’s face and he took a step toward her. “You’re a very attractive young women,” he said, his voice gone husky.

Chapter Eleven

Abruptly she was aware of the desire glowing in the viscount’s eyes. She had seen such desire more than once in the eyes of other men, but none of them had appealed to her as this man did. And now, because of her need to look at the parapet she had put herself in a position that could be dangerous.

Stiffly she drew herself up. “You forget yourself, milord. But I shall pay it no heed. It’s just that you have been so long away from London that any young woman looks attractive to you.”

A pained look crossed his handsome features. “You’re being most unkind to me,” he said plaintively. “Most unfair, too. You are constantly here and constantly beautiful, and you condemn me for speaking the truth about it.”

He took another step toward her and she felt her breathing quicken. There was no denying she was attracted to him, but she simply had to keep her wits about her. Flattering phrases couldn’t keep a young woman from scandal. In fact, they more often led to it. She knew that. She had to remember it.

“I believe, milord,” she said, “that it is you who seek my company. I have only been about my business as governess.”

He shook his head. By now he was close to her and she was uncomfortably aware that he stood between her and the stairway door. How foolish she’d been to let herself get in such a position. She was usually so sensible, knowing better than to court danger. It was just that so much had happened, so much she couldn’t understand. She could understand the viscount, though. Lords like him abounded. In London—and elsewhere.

“I cannot help it that I’m drawn to you,” he went on, giving her a languishing glance. “You’re like honey to a hungry fly.”

She allowed herself a small smile. If they were going to talk in metaphors of the insect world, it was much more likely that she was the fly and the viscount was—a spider! But she dared not tell him that.

She took a step to move around him, but he moved with her. “Milord! I must go to the children.”

Still he stood there, blocking her way. “You’re even more beautiful when your eyes spark like that.”

“You’re being quite ridiculous.” Though she’d like to believe him, she knew better than to succumb to smooth words of flattery. “I am a governess,” she said, “a very plain creature. I must be. I have reached the age of four and twenty without receiving a single offer of marriage.”

He shrugged. “Then I can only assume you had no dowry.”

She felt the surge of anger the memory always brought her. If Papa hadn’t sacrificed everything to his insane obsession to get a title, if he’d used his money, some of it anyway, to give her a dowry, she would at this very moment be the wife of a man who valued her. He might value her for the funds she’d brought him, but at least she would have the title of wife. She would have a husband, a home, and perhaps children of her own.

But that wasn’t for her. That dream was dead. “My father used up his substance trying to acquire a title,” she said flatly. “He had nothing left to provide me with a dowry. Even if he’d wanted to.”

The viscount nodded sympathetically. “I see. Did he succeed in getting his title?”

Edwina sighed. “I suppose one might say so—in a way at least. He was made a baron, and several months later he died.”

The viscount raised an eyebrow. “Happily, I presume.”

She shrugged. This conversation had gone far astray. Why had she even mentioned Papa’s obsession? It meant nothing now. “I suppose so. I suppose it was just as well, since he had few funds left with which to support himself in his new position.”

“And that,” the viscount said, “explains why you are so determined to succeed in your position here.”

She nodded. She hadn’t meant to talk so freely, but the viscount was a very personable young man. She was a lonely young woman, whose every decision could be dangerous.

“I have considerable influence with the earl,” he said, moving a step closer. “So I should imagine that your position here is quite secure.”

He was now so close that only inches separated them. She considered backing away from him, but that wouldn’t look good. He might take it as an insult. And if he had all the influence that he said he had ... But still she had to discourage him. Politely, with a coldness and distance that would be difficult because his company was really most enjoyable.

While she was still considering how best to keep him at a bay, he reached out and drew her into his arms. His kiss was quite long and quite pleasurable. When he released her lips, she was breathing heavily and her cheeks were hot. “Milord Crawford!” she protested. “This is most unseemly behavior.”