One Haunted Evening (Haunted Regency Series Book 1) Read online

  She tipped her head up to look at Alastair, glad to find a pleased grin upon his lips. “That is correct. Good day, Sid.”

  Mr. Garrick laughed heartily. “All right, all right,” he said. “I know when I’m not wanted.” He started out of the stable, but stopped just before he reached the door. “And be careful with him, Miss Alcott. He’s not as sturdy as he looks.”

  Daphne blinked at the man’s retreating form as she swallowed over the lump that had risen to her throat. Be careful with whom? Did he mean the horse…or Alastair? And what did that mean, anyhow?

  Apparently, Alastair wasn’t going to explain his friend. He was already in the stall with Jupiter, saddling him in preparation for their ride. Only moments later, he emerged with the horse’s lead in hand. Jupiter was much larger than she realized—he towered over both of them. Daphne didn’t have a lot of experience with horses, but Jupiter’s presence served as a reminder of where she was. Heavens, she’d almost forgotten, what with the kiss and Mr. Garrick.

  “Are you quite all right, Daphne?” Alastair asked, his tone gentle, as if he were cooing to a babe. And then he shook his head and growled an expletive to himself. “I’m sorry about Garrick. He’s…I don’t…”

  Daphne smiled. He thought she was upset about his friend, and for that she was grateful. She didn’t care to show her weaknesses to this man. Not yet. How could she tell him—a member of the Four-in-hand club—that she was terrified of being in a stable? She was handling herself fine today, but only because she felt safe with him. Safer than she’d ever felt with anyone in her entire life. Not that Graham didn’t take care of her and provide a comfortable haven for her, but this was different. She couldn’t explain it. She only knew that the fear she normally felt in stables was significantly less today. With him.

  “You needn’t apologize for your friend,” she finally said, hoping to put him out of his misery. “He’s harmless.”

  “He is a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Alastair bit back.

  Daphne laughed. “I rather think it’s the other way around, isn’t it?”

  He shook his head. “Not with Garrick.”

  Was it too soon to reassure him of her affections? They’d not spoken of their feelings yet. Would she scare him off by being too forward? Then again, he was being awfully protective of her against his womanizing friend, so perhaps…

  She took a few steps forward until she stood just before him. With a tentative hand, she reached out, and gently placed her palm against his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath, as if he’d been stung, but she couldn’t take it back now. Instead, she kept it there, lying against his heaving chest, the heat nearly searing her palm. Her mouth went dry, but he would think her mutton-headed if she didn’t say anything.

  “Alastair,” she said slowly, testing the name on her tongue, “I hope you do not think me so fickle that…that…”

  He covered her hand with his much larger one, holding it firmly against him, while his dark eyes bore into her with such intensity it set Daphne’s heart to racing again. “That what?” he prodded, his voice a low rumble that shook Daphne to her core.

  Daphne swallowed. “That he could sway my affections so easily,” she finished.

  “And will you tell me where your affections lie?”

  Good heavens, she was going to faint. Her body trembled and her head felt light all of a sudden. She opened her mouth to speak, and then all went black.

  “Bloody hell!” Alastair wouldn’t normally curse in front of a woman, but seeing as this one was unconscious and careening for the ground, he let it slide. Just this once.

  What the devil happened, anyway? One moment, they were standing there having a most intimate and magical moment and the next, her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she let out a sigh, as if someone had just tightened her corset strings so tightly that it forced all the breath from her lungs.

  Alastair let go of Jupiter’s reins and caught Daphne just before she hit the ground. She wasn’t feather-light, but it was no hardship to lift her into his arms.

  “I have you,” he whispered as he jostled her into a comfortable position, and then he started out of the stables, only to be halted by his horse’s confused whinny.

  “Damn,” he muttered, and then checked to make sure Daphne was still out. Thankfully she was. Her innocent ears didn’t need to hear such expletives. “My apologies, old boy.”

  He looked from Jupiter to the parcel in his arms and back to his horse. “Let’s get you back into your stall.” The gelding didn’t seem all too happy about the change of plans as his master held the stall door open for him and gestured inside. “I promise I’ll be back, just as soon as I take care of…this.” He nodded his head toward the woman in his arms. Jupiter shook his head up and down, as if he’d understood every word, and then walked slowly back into his stall. “Thank you, my friend,” Alastair said, closing the stall door behind him. “I’ll be back as soon as I am able.”

  Alastair walked briskly from the stables all the way to the house, his burden becoming slightly heavier the longer he held her. He thanked the stars above when the door swung open as he approached, and Bendle sent him straight to the drawing room.

  “It’s empty right now, my lord,” he said. “And Mrs. Small is on her way to retrieve smelling salts and some refreshments.” When Alastair gave him a questioning look, he said, “We saw you coming up the drive moments ago.”

  Alastair nodded. “Many thanks, Bendle.” And then he pushed past the man, eager to set Daphne down on a soft surface. He hadn’t saved her from the initial fall only to drop her on the cold, hard ground.

  Moments later, he was finally able to set her down onto a green velvet sofa in the drawing room, though none-too-gently. Thank God she was still unconscious. She’d never know he didn’t carry her in here like Hercules holding a kitten.

  “Good heavens,” Mrs. Small said, bustling into the room with a tiny bottle in hand. “Whatever happened to her, my lord?”

  Alastair shook his head. “I wish I knew,” he said. “One moment we were preparing to take a ride, and the next, she was careening toward the ground.”

  “A ride?” The woman eyed him askance, but then continued, “Well, we know she isn’t dead, at least.” She’d obviously taken note of Daphne’s even breaths that filled and deflated her chest.

  “Yes, thank you for that.” Alastair was not the least bit interested in hiding his disdain for the woman’s morbid observations. “The salts, please.”

  She handed them over, and Alastair pulled the tiny cork from the bottle before waving it in front of Daphne’s precious little nose. She started a bit from the smell, but didn’t immediately open her eyes, so he did it again. This time, her long lashes fluttered until her sapphire eyes met with his. He sat beside her, his knees on the floor, his face hovering just above hers. She stared at him a long moment, and then licked her lips. If Mrs. Small hadn’t been standing sentinel, Alastair wouldn’t have hesitated to lower his lips to Daphne’s. As a matter of fact…

  “Mrs. Small,” he said, never taking his eyes off of Daphne. “Bring some tea and biscuits.”

  She hemmed and hawed a moment, as if she were worried about leaving them alone, but for once, Alastair wasn’t terribly concerned about propriety. “Now,” he practically barked at the woman, who finally did as she was bid.

  As soon as she was out the door, Alastair pressed his lips against Daphne’s. She opened for him as he snaked his arms around her, caressing the curves along her side. But when he felt her small hands press against his chest, he didn’t hesitate to break the kiss, no matter how difficult that was.

  “What happened?” she asked, her voice small in the large room.

  “I don’t know,” Alastair said, shaking his head. “One moment you were about to tell me who the object of your affections was, and the next, you were out cold in my arms.”

  Her eyes darted upward to look about the room as best she could. “You carried me all the way here?” she asked
, seeming rather alarmed about the prospect.

  “Of course I did,” he answered, his pride pricking just a bit. “Did you think I would leave you for dead to go for a ride?”

  This made her laugh, and the breath he’d been holding since before she fainted finally eased out of him. She was all right, thank God.

  “I’m sorry if I frightened you,” she said.

  Alastair lifted his brows. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”

  She shrugged as best she could from her nestled position amongst the pillows. “Once in a while,” she admitted, a pretty pink blush staining her cheeks. “When I become…overwrought.”

  Alastair couldn’t stop the smile that came to his lips. “Was this my doing?”

  Daphne gave a little chuckle. “Partly.” Then she looked away, and blinked back what Alastair was certain were tears.

  He didn’t mean to make her cry. He never, ever wanted to make her cry. He reached up and brushed the hair off her brow, searching her face for answers to the questions that sat on his tongue, unasked. But she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Here we are!” Mrs. Small made a show of coming through the door, clearly worried she might catch them in a compromising position. Or perhaps hopeful she might. She did seem as if she enjoyed gossip as well as any of the below stairs staff. “Tea and biscuits. I hope this will set you to rights, Miss Alcott. Oh, and I sent for your brother just as soon as I saw you coming up the drive.”

  Daphne sat up abruptly at this, alarm in her azure eyes. “My brother? Whatever for?”

  “Now, Miss Alcott, you suffered another episode,” she said, her tone patronizing, like a teacher talking to a pupil. “Your brother would have my head if I didn’t alert him to it.”

  Daphne closed her eyes and groaned. “Yes, I know,” she said, resigned. Then she lifted her eyes to Alastair. He still kneeled on the floor beside her, somewhat dumbstruck by what was happening.

  “Leave us, Mrs. Small,” he ordered. The woman gave a sigh, but didn’t say another word as she left the room. Alastair pushed himself up until he was sitting side-by-side with Daphne on the velvet sofa. “Tell me what this is all about.” His tone was as gentle as he could manage in his state. If he were being honest, he’d say he was completely out of his mind with fear. What was wrong with her?

  Daphne shook her head and gave a little laugh, tucking a lock of her chocolate brown hair behind her ear. “It’s nothing really. Mrs. Small makes too much of it.”

  “Will your brother come?” It was a simple question that required a simple answer, but the answer would tell him all he needed to know.

  When Daphne nodded, Alastair’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. If it wasn’t terribly serious, her brother wouldn’t bother coming all the way to Marisdùn. “What is it?” he prodded. He had to know.

  Daphne shrugged, drawing the fabric of her skirts in and out of her fingers. “No one knows,” she said quietly. “A heart condition, they think, but no one knows the severity of it.” She turned to him, clearly eager to reassure him of her health. “It’s nothing, really. I hardly ever think about it. Everyone makes more out of it than it truly is. Please,” she begged. “I can’t take your pitying looks. I can’t take one more person in my life looking at me as if I’m…dying.”

  “Are you?” Alastair blurted out, unable to stop himself.

  “No!” She clutched her hand to her heart. “At least, I hope not.”

  Silence hung between them for a long moment, during which Alastair struggled to meet her wishes. If she said it was nothing, perhaps it really was nothing. But then…if the doctor rushed to his sister’s side every time she had “an episode,” could he really believe there was nothing to be concerned about?

  “Can we please change the subject?” she asked, a hopeful smile on her lips. But Alastair wasn’t sure he would be able to think or talk about anything other than the state of her health just then. “Tell me about your masquerade.”

  He laughed. As if he cared two figs about the blasted masquerade. “It’s going to be dreadfully boring if you insist on not coming.” Color rushed to her cheeks, which had been a stark shade of white ever since she’d lost consciousness. “Perhaps you will reconsider?”

  She shook her head. “I really don’t think I can.”

  She licked her pretty pink lips, and Alastair wanted more than anything to lean in and kiss her again. Their previous one had been too short. Far too short. And he wanted so desperately to reassure her of his feelings, and to find out if she had any for him. Of course, he didn’t want to overset her. Lord only knew what would cause her to collapse again.

  “Well,” he said lightly, trying to thin the heavy air between them, “there’s still time for discussion, isn’t there?”

  Daphne opened her mouth as if to reply when loud voices came from down the corridor and a moment later, Dr. Alcott burst into the drawing room. His brows were drawn together, and his lips turned down into a frown as he practically ran across the room to his sister.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, kneeling in front of her, seemingly beginning an examination on the spot with a thorough check of her eyes. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” she said, trying to laugh, but Alastair knew better. There was fear there. She was just as worried as everyone else was. “We were in the stables—”

  “The stables?” Dr. Alcott’s sharp gaze shifted to Alastair. “What the devil were you doing in the stables?”

  “Graham, please,” Daphne pleaded with her brother. “Can we do this at home?”

  “No,” he bit out. “I want to know why you let him take you into the stables.”

  Alastair couldn’t take it anymore. “Is there something I’m missing?”

  Daphne hated to talk about it. It only brought up painful memories that were better left buried and unaddressed. She had no trouble living her life, day to day, forgetting the horrible way her parents had perished. Or the odd condition of her heart they’d discovered shortly following their deaths. But Alastair deserved an explanation. He was sitting there, confusion written all over his handsome face, and Daphne had the overwhelming urge to kiss him and tell him that everything was going to be all right. That everything was all right.

  She looked to her brother, and he nodded before finally backing away from her and taking a proper seat.

  Daphne’s entire body shook with nerves. Surely this wasn’t good for her condition, but she wouldn’t leave him in the dark. She could do this, hopefully without losing consciousness.

  “My parents died in a fire…in a stable, to be exact.” Her voice shook so violently that her jaw started to stiffen, making it hard to form the words properly. She was about to go on when Alastair reached out and took her hand in his. The warmth spread through her, but instead of igniting desire, his touch calmed her. She met his eyes. Their dark depths held so much concern it made her want to cry. Or throw herself at him. Or both. She almost forgot her brother was in the room until he cleared his throat loudly enough to make Alastair try to pull away. But Daphne would have none of that. She needed him, needed his calming touch. So she held tightly to his hand and said with her eyes what she couldn’t say out loud: Don’t let go.

  “I was there, unfortunately, when it happened,” she pressed on. “By the time it was all over, half the town had gathered to see if the doctor and his wife would emerge from the inferno. But they didn’t.” Daphne sucked in a shaky breath and Alastair squeezed her hand. “They went back in to save our horses. Only one made it out.”

  “Daphne suffered her first spell that day,” Graham put in, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the arms of the chair. He hated to speak of the incident just as much as Daphne did, so it was no surprise he was skipping to the topic of Daphne’s condition. The details in between were too sad to speak of. “She had daily fainting spells for a while, and that’s when I discovered that her heart had an irregular beat.”

  “But I’m fine now!” she put in, eager to reassure ever
yone that she was well. “It hasn’t happened in ages, truly.” She turned to Graham. “You know it hasn’t.”

  Graham leveled her with his blue eyes that were almost identical to her own. “Then why did it happen today?”

  Daphne’s heart seized. She knew why it happened, and it wasn’t just because of being in the stables. It was because she’d been overcome with her feelings for Alastair. She turned to him. He was staring at her, searching her face for the answer, his brow furrowed with concern.

  “I’m afraid this was my fault,” he finally said when Daphne failed to answer. “I didn’t realize—”

  “How could you have?” Daphne put in. She wouldn’t let him take the blame when he’d known nothing of her history. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t all because of the stables, but she wasn’t yet certain of his affections.

  “Daphne should have known better,” Graham said. “I lay the blame entirely at her feet, Lord Wolverly.” Then he stood, towering over the both of them. “Come, Daphne. We should get you home to rest.”

  “But I don’t need to rest,” she replied, desperate to get just a few more moments alone with Alastair.

  But he was of the same mind as her brother. “You should go, Miss Alcott.”

  Daphne’s heart constricted. Was he rejecting her now that he knew of her condition? Was he afraid she would be a poor candidate to produce an heir? Did he worry that her delicate state would make for a difficult life for him?

  No matter what he was thinking, she’d not get to know today. Perhaps not ever. Though she hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

  He stood and pulled her up with him. Her brother held out his elbow for her to take—a replacement for Alastair’s, which she clung to now. She didn’t want to let go. She lingered for longer than she ought to have, unable to look him in the eye again.

  “Thank you for taking care of her in my absence,” Graham said as Daphne made the switch from one elbow to the other.

  “Of course,” Alastair replied.