The Lady Unmasked Page 15

  Thorn shrugged as though he could read Quent’s thoughts. “Father Matthew has experience in exorcisms.”

  What a bizarre thing to have experience in.

  “It’s a specialty of yours?” Garrick asked, sliding his arm around Matilda’s shoulders.

  “Aye.” Father Matthew stopped his perusal of the blue parlor and turned his attention back to the assembled group. “I’ve participated in a number of them, my son.”

  A number? Well, one was a number, and Quent would really like to know exactly how many times the Scot had been involved in such a thing before.

  “We were told,” Garrick began, rubbing his hand down Matilda’s arm, “that a Druid priest was needed.”

  Father Matthew sighed softly as he shook his head. “If a demon has taken possession of a host body, ye willna find a better man than me to help, sir.”

  At least he was confident, which was more than Quent was. And really, what harm was there in letting Father Matthew give it his best shot? If he failed, they’d be in the exact same position they were in now. And if he succeeded…Well, then all would go back as it should.

  “The vicar is in the dungeons,” Quent said. “We weren’t sure where else to put him where he wouldn’t harm himself or someone else. A footman is sitting with him now.”

  “Aye, that’ll work just fine.” The priest gestured towards the doorway with a tilt of his head. “The ladies should remain here, but if ye gentlemen will show me the way.”

  Quent released his hold on Lila and cast her what he hoped was his most supportive smile. “This way, Father,” he said. Then he led the way down one corridor and then another towards the dungeons.

  “So, Father,” Garrick began from behind him, “how long do these sorts of things usually take?”

  “There is no time frame, Mr. Garrick. Each case is unique unto itself.”

  “Well, on average?” Garrick pressed as they started down the stone steps. “A couple hours? It’s Saturday. He’s supposed to give his sermon tomorrow.”

  “I willna ken until I see the victim.”

  And as if on cue, Vicar Southward called out, “When I get free, I will kill each and every one of you invaders!”

  And if the man was released in his present condition, Quent had no doubt that he would try to do that, and that he’d most likely succeed in his efforts. “It’s the first cell here, on the right.”

  The vicar looked worse than he had when Quent had sat with him earlier in the day. Lesions scarred his face as though the evil trapped inside the man’s body was destroying his host from the inside out. His lips were cracked and his black eyes focused at once upon the slight man who had come to do battle.

  Quent glanced at Fielding, the footman, who’d spent the last few hours watching after the vicar. “You can go now.”

  “What’s this?” An unnatural laugh echoed off the walls of the dungeon as the vicar’s chains rattled. A trail of blood began to drip from his eye and Quent was glad Lila wasn’t down there to see her father in his present condition. “You’ve brought me a man who has to hide his belief every day?” That horrible voice that sounded like it came from the bowels of Hell sent a shiver racing down Quent’s spine. “Surely you can find a better champion, one who doesn’t hide in shame.”

  “Doona speak directly to the demon,” Father Matthew replied calmly. “It can sense yer secrets and fears and will try to manipulate ye.”

  “I am not a demon, I am a warrior!” The vicar’s chains rattled once more.

  Father Matthew glanced at Quent and the other assembled men. “I’m goin’ to need my portmanteau.”

  “I’ll get it, Father,” Wolf said, and then started back up the stairs to the main part of the castle.

  The priest shot a look at Garrick. “I doona believe yer vicar will make his sermon tomorrow, sir. Ye’d best make other plans.”

  “Already taken care of,” Braden muttered, his eyes locked on the vicar, strung up on the dungeon wall.

  “Let’s begin, then.” The priest retrieved a string of black beads from his pocket and ran the strand between his thumb and forefinger.

  Another cry seemed wrenched from the dungeons and Lila held tightly to Tilly’s hand. Heavens! The men had been down there for hours and the gut-wrenching screams had shattered every nerve in her body.

  There was something different about Anna, who was pacing the side of the room on her own, like she was hiding something, which was odd. Lila really hadn’t known her cousin to ever hide anything. Was it just her nerves? Or had something else happened? Did she lack faith in Father Matthew’s abilities? Another blood-curdling scream echoed from the dungeons, momentarily breaking Lila from her thoughts.

  “I’m surprised you traveled to Scotland,” she said, because she was so very tired of thinking about Papa and wondering what was happening to him in that subterranean cell.

  “I thought I might go mad if I sat here, just waiting.” Anna stopped mid-pace.

  “Yes, well, it wasn’t easy,” Lila said and realized she sounded the slightest bit waspish. But really, it would have been nice to have Anna’s support the last few days.

  “I can see that.” Her cousin frowned. “I am sorry. Truly, Lila.”

  “Anna Southward!” Tilly sat forward on the settee. “What’s on your hand?”

  Anna folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “It’s nothing really.”

  “It’s a ring!” Tilly accused. “What sort of ring is it? Not something you found lying around Marisdùn, I hope.”

  Oh, for heaven’s sake! Lila’s heart began to pound. “Tell me it’s not something evil, Anna. I don’t know—”

  “It’s a wedding ring.” The words flew from Anna’s mouth and then she covered her lips with her hands. And sure enough, a golden band on her finger caught the candlelight.

  “A wedding ring?” Tilly leapt from her spot. “Where did you get a wedding ring?”

  But the answer was quite obvious. Lila’s mouth fell open. “You got married in Scotland?”

  Sheepishly, Anna nodded. “I wasn’t so certain Uncle Walter would approve of David…Mr. Thorn…and we were in Scotland, and…Well, I would do it again.”

  Tilly lifted her hand out to Anna to inspect the little golden band. “Father Matthew married you?”

  “Blacksmith,” Anna replied.

  Heavens. Lila didn’t know which was worse. Papa would certainly never approve of either, and yet…He hadn’t approved of Quent, had he? If Father Matthew’s exorcism was successful, would Papa give his blessing for Lila to marry Quent? Or would she have to follow Anna’s lead and hie across the Scottish border too? “I would have done the same, if I was you,” Lila said softly.

  Anna smiled then. “Thank you. I wish you both could have been there.”

  “Was it very romantic?” Tilly asked, her eyes shining with joy…Until another scream from the dungeons reminded them all that Papa was still not free, and that he might not ever be.

  Quent had no idea what Father Matthew was saying. Of course, the man was speaking Latin and Gaelic, and while Quent could pick out a word here or there, the majority of it was completely lost on him.

  It had been hours, many exhausting hours, but Father Matthew was still going strong. The vicar, or Cynbel, had been equally strong, at least until the last few minutes when he went completely lifeless in his chains.

  Dear God? Was the man dead?

  Thorn started towards the vicar, but Father Matthew held up his hand and stopped the man from going any further. Smoothly, the old priest retrieved a bottle from the portmanteau at his feet and uncorked it. He quietly approached the vicar and sprinkled the contents, which looked like water, onto the man’s hand.

  And a half-second later, the ancient ring slid from the vicar’s finger and dropped to the floor, with a clank.

  Everyone gasped. After all the tugging and twisting and applying of ointments. Had the ring really slid off by itself after being doused with…water?

  Fat
her Matthew had not gasped with the others. Instead, he recorked his bottle, returned it to his traveling back and retrieved some sort of linen cloth. “Ye have the box?” he asked, sounding rather exhausted all of a sudden.

  “Yes, yes.” Garrick gestured towards the jewelry box on a bench against the opposite edge of the cell.

  “Open it for me, will ye?”

  Garrick strode towards the bench and plucked the box up in his hand while Father Matthew crossed the cell and retrieved the ring from the ground, using the cloth as a barrier for his skin.

  The Scottish priest held the ring out in front of him, dropped it into the jewelry box, and muttered, “Signaculum gratia Dei.”

  The lid to the box snapped closed of its own accord, and all Quent could do was stand there and gape. He had seen some bizarre occurrences at Marisdùn, but this exorcism had to be the most bizarre of them all.

  “Is that it?” Thorn dared to ask. “Is it over?”

  Father Matthew shook his head. “After he wakes, we’ll ken for certain.”

  Twenty

  Lila’s heart pounded when Quent returned to the blue parlor. She leapt off the settee and rushed to him, throwing her arms around his middle. “What happened?” she asked. “Please tell me.”

  Mr. Garrick, Mr. Thorn, Lord Bradenham and Lord Wolverly were right behind him, but Lila didn’t pay any of them any attention at all.

  Quent smoothed a hand down her back and kissed the top of her head. “You’re still awake?”

  Dawn was about to break and she was more exhausted than she’d ever been, but she certainly couldn’t have fallen asleep, not even if she’d taken a sleeping draught. “Please, Quent,” she whispered.

  He nodded and smiled slightly. “I’ll tuck you into bed and then tell you everything, all right?”

  Bed. Was there ever a more heavenly word? She nodded, even though the suggestion was beyond scandalous. Of course, it was scandalous that she and Tilly had taken up residence at Marisdùn the last few days, as neither of them had been willing to stay at the vicarage without Papa too. But she was going to marry Quentin Post as soon as she was able, whether he tucked her into bed or not.

  He threaded his fingers with hers, nodded a good night to his friends and then led her down the corridor that led to the family wing.

  “Father Matthew managed to get the ring from your father’s finger,” he began after they’d made their way into Lila’s borrowed set of rooms and she dropped onto the edge of her bed.

  That was wonderful news. “And Papa?”

  “Out cold.” He pulled back her counterpane. “You don’t want to change?”

  “Too tired,” she muttered, snuggling under the bedclothes. Luckily, the dress was one of her most comfortable. “What do you mean out cold?”

  “He passed out before the ring fell off his finger. Father Matthew says we’ll know more when your father awakes.”

  “He’s still alive?” she asked, needing to know the answer to that before she could close her eyes and try to fall asleep.

  “Still breathing,” he assured her.

  Lila took her first sigh of relief in days, but when Quent pushed up to his feet to depart, she sat back up and reached a hand out to him. “Just stay for minute, Quent. I just want you to hold me, and make me forget all of this—”

  “If I climb into that bed with you, I may never leave it.” A slightly rakish smile spread across his face.

  She didn’t even blush. “Then stay with me forever.”

  His smile widened as he dropped back onto the bed beside her and then cradled her in his arms as she snuggled against his chest. “Are you trying to compromise me, Lila Southward?” he teased. “I shall demand you marry me to save my reputation.”

  The first laugh she’d felt in days bubbled up from inside her. “Anna and Mr. Thorn married in Scotland. Did you know?”

  “They eloped?” he asked, surprise lacing his voice.

  “She was afraid Papa wouldn’t give his permission, so…”

  “So they took their future in their own hands.” Quent squeezed her a little tighter, which made her belly flutter in response. “If it comes to that, if he won’t give us his permission, would you be willing to race for the border with me?”

  She tipped her head back to see him better and was astounded at her good fortune. Somehow she had found the most wonderful man in all the world. Kind, loving, handsome, possessing a delightful sense of humor, and the only man who had ever sent her heart to racing. She had lost her heart to Quentin Post more than a year ago and now that she knew he loved her too… “I’d be willing to go anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”

  He lowered his head and pressed his warm lips to hers and that fluttering in her belly only intensified. Heavens, life with him would have her mind a jumble every day.

  Quent slowly lifted his head, his hazel eyes lit with desire. “It will kill me until I can have you.” He released a sigh. “As luck would have it, I am in the possession of a special license, if your father is amendable to the idea. If he’s not, I’ll be only too happy to spirit you off to Gretna.”

  Lila couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. The last few days had been filled with such fear, such worry and concern, but looking forward to her future with Quent was like the perfect balm for her soul. “How in the world did you acquire a special license?”

  Quent quirked her a grin. “I had to be prepared in case a certain vicar’s daughter should drag me into her bed and try to compromise me. I have my reputation to protect, you know?”

  “Silly man,” she said around a yawn.

  He nodded in agreement. “A silly man who loves you very much.”

  Lila snuggled against his chest once more and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “I love you too, Quent. I always will.”

  “Let’s do try get a bit of sleep, love, I have a feeling tomorrow will be quite taxing.”

  But as long as he was by her side, Lila was certain they could face anything that came their way. “You’ll stay with me?”

  “How could I ever refuse you anything, love?” he said as he pulled the counterpane up over both of them. Then he held her in his arms and Lila breathed in the sandalwood scent of him.

  She could smell his scent! Lila pushed back slightly from him and said, “Quent, I don’t smell that awful odor anymore.”

  He sniffed at the air and agreed with a nod of his head. “I believe that does bode well for the situation.”

  Quent hadn’t meant to truly fall asleep in Lila’s bed. He meant just to stay with her until she finally found the sleep she needed and then return to his study and wait for word on the vicar’s condition. But her soft curves pressed against him, and her delicate scent invaded his senses, and for the first time in quite a while, peace washed over him. Before Quent could even think about what he was doing, he’d fallen quite asleep, dreaming of his future with the most wonderful angel in all the world.

  A scratch at the door sometime later, broke him from his slumber and Quent realized he must have slept quite a while.

  “Miss Southward!” called a maid from the other side of the door. “The vicar is awake. He’s asking for you.”

  “We’ll be right there,” Quent said without thinking and then winced slightly. Damn it all. He really didn’t want the servants at Marisdùn to think less of Lila. They weren’t yet married and he was in her chambers…

  Lila blinked her eyes open, cast him the sweetest smile, and all thoughts about impropriety vanished as quickly as a puff of smoke. “You stayed.”

  “You asked me to,” he said softly. Then he tucked one of her dark curls behind her ear. “It sounds like your father’s awake, Lila.”

  Her eyes rounded in surprise and she sat up in an instant. “He’s awake?”

  Quent nodded, sliding out of bed and offering his hand to her. “He apparently asked for you, or so the chambermaid said. The girl probably thinks you have the worst sort of cold, by the way, or she’s figured out I’ve been in h
ere with you.”

  The slightest blush stained her cheeks as he helped her from the bed. “I suppose the chambermaids at Marisdùn should get accustomed to finding you in my chambers.”

  They should indeed. Quent smiled in response. “If you want to stay at Marisdùn after all that’s happened.”

  At that, she stopped and nibbled on her bottom lip. “I hadn’t really given any thought to where we’d live.”

  Neither had Quent. When had there been time? Before all of this madness, he’d been quite happy to consider staying in Ravenglass most of the year. It was, after all, the only property that was actually in his name. But he couldn’t expect Lila to live here, not after what had happened to her father within the castle’s walls. “We’ll sort all of that out, love. But for now, let’s run a quick brush through our hair and go see about your father.”

  Lila raced down the corridors of Marisdùn with Quent right on her heels. She was still wearing yesterday’s dress, but she doubted anyone would make note of the fact.

  She hurried towards the dungeons, but Mrs. Small appeared at the end of the hallway, and Lila slowed her gait. “Good morning,” she said.

  “Good afternoon,” the old housekeeper replied, and then she turned her attention to Quent, who was right at Lila’s back. “Thank heavens, my lord, we have been looking for you.”

  “Well.” He coughed and Lila could sense his unease. “Here I am.”

  “Mr. Southward is in the white salon, my lord.”

  And with those words, Lila’s heart felt immeasurably easier. “He’s not in the dungeons?” she breathed out.

  The housekeeper shook her head. “Father Matthew freed him just a little while ago.” Then she smiled softly at Lila. “He’s taking tea right now and I’ll be along with some sage scones Cook made especially for him.”

  “The white salon?” Quent sighed. “Thank you, Mrs. Small.” Then he slid his hand around Lila’s and squeezed her fingers. “We could follow Thorn’s lead and race off to Gretna now,” he said after the housekeeper had traveled out of earshot.