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

  With one last lingering glance, Daphne allowed Graham to lead her away. They were almost out of the room when Alastair stopped them with a practically shouted, “Wait!”

  Daphne swung around and met his eyes. “Yes?” she asked, hope billowing in her chest.

  “May I call on you tomorrow? To…make sure you are well.”

  Now her heart nearly exploded with glee, and she struggled to maintain her composure. Instead of leaping into his arms like she wanted to do, she simply smiled at him and nodded. “I would like that very much.”

  Alastair nodded back. “Until tomorrow then.”

  “Until tomorrow.”

  By the time they arrived back home, Daphne was feeling much more like herself. The warmth had returned to her cheeks, and she didn’t feel the least bit sick to her stomach anymore.

  “Shall I prepare us something to eat?” she asked Graham as they stepped through the door. “We’ve some of yesterday’s soup left over, and a loaf of bread. Will that satisfy you?”

  Graham nodded but didn’t say anything. Clearly, he was still upset over her episode. It only dredged up painful memories for him of that day. It did for her too, but she refused to let it ruin her day. Or her life. She had too much to live for and look forward to, the least of which was Lord Wolverly—Alastair—coming to call tomorrow. It was a miracle that she’d not scared him off with her condition.

  She looked to her brother, who sat in his chair, which had been Father’s chair first, his brow furrowed in thought. The first idea that came to mind was that she ought to find him a lovely girl to fall in love with. Someone who could heal his wounds. Of course she was being fanciful and romantic, but wasn’t that what Alastair was doing for her? Healing her wounds? It certainly felt that way. If only Graham could find that same kind of love…

  “What is the nature of your relationship with Lord Wolverly?” he asked, causing Daphne to fumble with the large pot of soup. Thankfully, she caught herself before she dumped the lot of it all over the floor.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked once she’d righted herself.

  “I see the way you look at one another.” He settled his blue eyes on her. “Tell me…do you carry a tendre for him?”

  Daphne hung the kettle over the fire in the grate and then nervously ran her hands over her skirts. “Would it matter if I did?” She gave a little nervous laugh. “He’s a sophisticated gentleman from London, and I’m a bumpkin from the Lake District. We might as well be Capulets and Montagues.”

  “Yes, but that didn’t stop Romeo and Juliet from pursuing one another…or running off together.”

  She could feel her brother’s eyes watching her, but she didn’t dare meet them. If she did, he’d know everything, for surely her desire for the viscount was written all over her face.

  “That’s why we read stories,” she returned. “To learn from them. Now we know better, don’t we?”

  “Daphne.” His tone was soft and cajoling. He clearly wanted the truth out of her, even though he already knew it.

  Daphne placed the spoon to the side once she’d given the soup a good stir. Her heart was racing. “It doesn’t matter what I feel for him, or he for me,” she said, trying to choke back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. “I’m not going to leave you.”

  When she met her brother’s eyes, they were wide with a fair amount of shock. “Me? What have I got to do with this?”

  “You’re my brother,” she explained. “I’m all you’ve got. I’d never leave you here all alone to go gallivanting about London as the Viscountess Wolverly. How cruel that would be.”

  Graham stared at her for a long moment until he couldn’t hold in his mirth any longer. He guffawed like an ape, and nearly doubled over in his chair. Daphne failed to see what was so humorous.

  When he finally gained his composure enough to speak, he stood from his chair and crossed the room. His arms went about Daphne, and his continued laughter shook her body.

  “My dear, sweet sister,” he said, giving her a tight squeeze before backing up a bit so he could see her. “Do you think I want you to stay here for me? You’d be miserable, especially if the man you care for is off gallivanting about London, as you put it.”

  “But—”

  He put a finger up to her mouth. “Shush. I will not stand in the way of you and your Lord Wolverly.”

  Daphne blinked up at her brother. “You won’t?”

  Graham shook his head. “Of course not. But I will insist this be done properly. I want him to court you, and ask me for your hand, if it comes to that.”

  “Of course.” Daphne could hardly contain her excitement.

  “Now don’t get overset again,” Graham warned.

  “I won’t.” She stretched up on tiptoe to kiss her brother upon the cheek. “May I go to Callie’s now?”

  “You won’t eat with me?”

  Daphne dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. She wasn’t hungry in the least. Graham seemed to understand.

  “Go on,” he said. “But take your time.”

  “I will!” Daphne removed her shawl from the hook by the front door and threw it about her shoulders. She was almost out the door when she remembered she needed some rum butter for Callie’s brother, so she turned back, filled her basket as quickly as she could, and then set off to tell her friend about Alastair.

  Alastair sat on the sofa for he didn’t know how long, pondering all that had just transpired. It was an odd thing for him to admit, but he thought perhaps he might be…

  No, he couldn’t say it. Not even to himself. He’d only known the girl a couple of days now. He couldn’t possible be falling in love with her.

  Although, when he thought about her—which was essentially all the bloody time now—his heart raced and his mind was all a jumble and, damn it, he just wanted to be with her. Always. He wanted more than anything to protect her and watch over her, especially after learning of her condition, whatever it was. He could take her to London, get her the best care anywhere. Not to slight her brother, of course, but he was only a country doctor. What could he know of such a complicated heart condition?

  “Ah, there you are!” Sidney strolled into the parlor, his swagger slightly off kilter, as if he’d already been drinking. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “Yes, well, here I am.” Alastair wasn’t really in the mood for a chat, especially if Sidney was already deep in his cups. “Have you been drinking, my friend?”

  Sidney shrugged. “Just a nip of the old blue ruin.”

  Wonderful. “Gin is a poor man’s drink,” Alastair pointed out. “I hardly think it suits you.”

  “Don’t be so old fashioned, Wolfie.” He winked, knowing Alastair hated it when he did that to his name. “I’m only a bit jug-bitten.” Then he crossed to the sidebar and started to pour brandy into two tumblers. “I assume you’ll drink with me if it’s brandy.”

  Alastair accepted the beverage. He didn’t normally like to imbibe so early in the day, but truth be known, he could use the drink. Perhaps it would help him sort out his feelings for Daphne.

  “So,” Sidney said, plopping into a nearby chair and throwing one leg over the arm, as was his custom. “Have you set a date yet?”

  Alastair nearly choked on his brandy. “Date?” he repeated when he’d gotten himself under control.

  “Come on, you old sod. I see the way you look at her. I can’t say I blame you. A diamond of the first water. Or, she would be, if, you know…she wore acceptable fashions.”

  It wasn’t that Alastair hadn’t noticed her clothes were a bit outdated, but he wasn’t certain he cared anymore. She could wear a burlap bag and he’d still want to bed her. And wed her, damn it.

  “I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.”

  “Why?” Sidney stared at him, feigning shock. “You haven’t laid any claim to her, have you? I’ve heard nothing of an engagement or even a courtship, for that matter.”

  The bastard was j
ust trying to goad him. Alastair knew that, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Sidney couldn’t resist a pretty face.

  “As a matter of fact, I have.” It wasn’t a total lie. He was calling on her tomorrow, wasn’t he? And hadn’t he kissed her in the stables? That must count for something.

  “Oh, ho, ho!” Sidney guffawed, clutching his stomach with a big, ridiculous smile on his face. “The mighty Lord Wolf has finally been brought up to scratch, and by a country bumpkin, no less.”

  “I’d watch yourself, Sid,” he warned. He’d not allow anyone to call Daphne a country bumpkin, or any other derogatory term, for that matter. “You’ll find yourself on the field of honor if you’re not careful.”

  “Don’t get your knickers in a wad, my friend,” Sid replied, his manner sobering just a bit. “I’m only teasing you because it’s so easy to do.”

  Alastair knew that. He had often been on the receiving end of jokes and pranks thanks to his serious nature.

  Sidney sat up in his chair and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “If you like her all that much, you should ask for her hand. Judging by the way she looked at you, she wouldn’t say no.”

  But her brother might. Alastair sighed. It was a risk he was going to have to take. A wall he’d climb when he came to it. When he called on her tomorrow, he would ask for her hand.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” Callie practically squealed when she greeted Daphne at the door to the yellow sitting room at Braewood.

  “Well, thank you,” Daphne replied, as her friend grabbed her by the wrist and started to drag her up the stairs. “Where are we going?”

  “To my chambers,” Callie replied excitedly. “We need the utmost privacy.”

  Goodness, what had possessed her friend today? Her cheeks were flushed and she moved so quickly, her flaxen hair appeared as if it were blowing in the wind. Daphne didn’t care to overset herself again, but she couldn’t quite get the words out quickly enough to tell her friend about her episode today. By the time they reached the door to Callie’s chambers, both of them were breathing rather heavily.

  “Heavens, Callie,” Daphne said, trying to catch her breath. “What on earth has gotten into you?”

  Callie rushed inside, pulling Daphne in with her, and closed the door behind them. Then she stood still for a long moment, looking as if she might burst. “I’m in love!”

  Daphne couldn’t help herself. She burst into laughter, much to Callie’s confusion.

  “Is that so very funny?”

  “Oh, of course not!” Daphne said, trying to compose herself. “It’s only that…well, I suppose I just wasn’t expecting it.” She wanted to share her own similar news, but she didn’t want to overshadow her friend. She grabbed Callie’s hands and gave them a squeeze. “Do tell me all about it, won’t you?”

  Callie nodded and then noticed the basket full of rum butter. “Is that for my brother?” When Daphne nodded, Callie reached in and retrieved one of the four jars, then stuffed it into a drawer amidst stockings and chemises.

  “Whatever are you doing?”

  Callie shrugged. “My brother hordes it all, so I have to keep my own private stash if I have any hope of getting any.”

  This rather amused Daphne, and made her feel just a little bit proud. “I can always bring you more, you silly girl. But now tell me about this man who has captured your heart.”

  “Braden.” Callie sighed and collapsed backward onto her four-poster bed. “The Marquess of Bradenham. He’s wonderful,” she said dreamily. “And he kissed me.”

  Daphne tried to act shocked at this, since she was certain that’s the reaction her friend was looking for. But since she’d been kissed just that morning as well, she didn’t find it quite as scandalous as she might have a couple of days ago.

  “Does he mean to marry you?”

  “Yes!” Callie sat up, her green eyes shimmering. She nodded eagerly. “But he said he should court me first. Cyrus isn’t at all happy about it though.”

  “He doesn’t like his lordship?”

  Callie shrugged. “He’s being very difficult about the whole thing. Braden almost won him over with talk of racing.”

  “They all race, then?”

  Her friend met her eyes, and gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. “Oh, goodness, I’m sorry, Daphne. I know how much talk of horses and such bothers you.”

  Daphne smiled sweetly and crossed the room to join her friend on the bed. “Actually, I think I might be feeling better about it all lately.”

  Clearly, Callie wasn’t expecting this. Her emerald eyes widened to the size of saucers, asking a silent question. Daphne had to answer her. She’d find out soon enough anyhow. She couldn’t worry about overshadowing her friend’s own budding romance.

  “I think I’ve fallen in love myself,” she ventured quietly.

  Callie’s jaw dropped open, but she said nothing, so Daphne went on.

  “Lord Wolverly has been most kind to me since his arrival.” That was surely putting it lightly. He’d been more than kind.

  “What are his intentions?” Callie asked, grabbing Daphne’s hands in hers. “What does Graham think?”

  “He’s warmed to the idea. But he’s insisting Lord Wolverly court me first.”

  “And what does Wolverly say to that?”

  Daphne bit her bottom lip. “I haven’t exactly discussed it with him.” She took a deep breath. “You see, I went to Marisdùn this morning—”

  “Inside the castle?” The panic in Callie’s voice was palpable.

  “Not today, although, there’s nothing to worry about inside, you know? I went in the other day with no consequence.”

  “You’re braver than I,” Callie said, her tone humorless. “Well, go on.”

  “He wanted me to meet his horse, Jupiter—”

  “Heavens! You went into the stables?”

  Daphne laughed. “Might I finish a sentence?”

  Callie gave her a sheepish grin and then pretended to lock her lips and toss away the key. Daphne finished telling her friend about the afternoon, the kiss, the episode, and finally her talk with Graham.

  “So what now?” Callie asked when it was clear the story had come to an end.

  Daphne shrugged. “I’m not certain. He asked to call on me tomorrow. Perhaps I will have some clarity then. And you? When will your courtship with Lord Bradenham begin?”

  “I’m meeting him in the gardens at Marisdùn tomorrow,” her friend said, her giddiness causing her to let out a little squeal of excitement.

  “Well, then.” Daphne grabbed Callie’s hands and squeezed them. “Perhaps we’ll be planning a double wedding soon.”

  Callie squeezed back. “Nothing would make me happier.”

  Daphne smiled at her friend. “So, obviously, you’ll be attending Lord Bradenham’s masquerade, then.”

  “Oh, heavens, no,” Callie replied, jumping from the bed as if there were springs attached to her bottom. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not in the least,” Daphne said, shaking her head. “But why not?”

  “Why not what?”

  “Why not go to the masquerade?”

  Callie pulled on the bell, and then leveled Daphne with her green gaze. “You know very well I’m not stepping foot inside that castle.” She shivered. “What about you? Are you planning to attend?”

  Daphne shook her head again. “No, but not for the same reasons.”

  A scratch came at the door, and Callie opened it long enough to ask her maid for cake and tea, then shut it firmly again.

  Callie crossed the room and joined her on the bed again. “All right. Why aren’t you going?”

  Daphne gave a little laugh. “You’ve seen the clothes I own. I can’t show up to a masquerade filled with all manner of aristocracy wearing…” she gestured to the day dress she wore… “this.”

  “Oh, Daphne!” Callie was up again, flinging open the doors to her armoire. “You can’t let that stop you from going. If you wer
e afraid of the ghosts, I would support you wholeheartedly, but to let a silly little thing like what to wear stop you…Now let’s see…”

  Callie perused her gowns carefully, and finally pulled out a lovely pale blue creation with silver trim. She held it aloft with a broad smile across her face. “What do you think?”

  Daphne wasn’t sure what to think. “Are you loaning this to me?”

  A sly grin came to Callie’s lips. “Of course I’m loaning it to you! You don’t think I’d tease you with it, do you?”

  “You’re sure you won’t wear it yourself?”

  “And be tormented by ghosts the entire evening? No, thank you. I’ve only braved the gardens, as they seem harmless enough.”

  Daphne had to laugh at her friend and her superstitions. It was one thing for spirits to linger, but it was another for them to torment the living. Daphne had a feeling the spirits didn’t give a fig about the living. They were just going about their spirit business, probably completely unaware of anyone else. But there was nothing for it. Callie seemed quite adamant about not attending. So Daphne would accept the dress gladly, especially if it meant getting to spend the evening by Alastair’s side.

  “You’re certain you don’t mind?” she asked one more time, just be sure.

  “If I minded, I never would have offered in the first place.” Her eyes settled on something over Daphne’s shoulder.

  “What is it?” Daphne asked, turning to look for herself.

  “You ought to head home soon. Looks like we’re in for another storm.”

  Indeed, the clouds hung dark and gray over their little town, as if they could open up at any moment. The last thing Daphne wanted was to be caught in the middle of it.

  In no time at all, Callie’s maid had bundled the dress, along with two slices of cake for Daphne and her brother to enjoy. Daphne hugged her friend goodbye at the door and then set off for home, feeling light and happy, in spite of the ominous weather.

  Daphne had never in her life been so excited to see the sun shining. She nearly flew from her bed to the window, and then pinched herself, just to make certain she wasn’t dreaming. Indeed, she felt the pinch, and it felt wonderful.