One More Haunted Evening Page 18

  Travel was her home, and one day, it would be again. Somehow, someway. The first place she planned on returning to was Florence and David.

  She could still see his chiseled features in her mind, except they no longer looked like what Michelangelo created, but a much more handsome David. David Thorn.

  As if she conjured him from her memories, Mr. Thorn appeared before her, atop his mare.

  Anna shielded her eyes and looked up. “Good day, Mr. Thorn.” Decorum, respectability, virtuousness, she reminded herself. The last impression Mr. Thorn had of her was none of those things and she must make it right.

  “Miss Southward.” He hopped to the ground to greet her. “Where might you be off to this fine day?”

  “I’m taking a basket of foodstuffs to the blacksmith’s.”

  “Might I walk with you?”

  She quickly glanced behind her. Good, they were far enough away from the vicarage. It wouldn’t do for her uncle to see her with Mr. Thorn. “It would be very nice if you did just that.”

  “Here, let me take that for you.” He held out his hand and indicated to the basket.

  “Thank you.” She smiled sweetly and handed it over.

  Decorum! Paragon! she repeated silently. No talk of sculpting nude bodies.

  No, she argued with herself. She must address the issue. “I wish to apologize, Mr. Thorn.”

  “I can think of no reason.”

  “I fear I may have shocked or surprised you, and I don’t wish for you to think ill of me.”

  “That is not possible, Miss Southward.”

  “You see…” Oh, how could she fix what had gone wrong the day at the beach? “I don’t wish for you think me forward.” There, that should be a good beginning. “It’s just that I am an artist, and look upon objects, much as I did the sunrise over the sea to be painted or sculpted. I know that most ladies would not even consider what I mentioned about needing a model. I’m sure it must have shocked you as well, but you need to understand that it is simply for the art, and appreciation of beauty.” Drat, this wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped. Instead of making things better, she was making it worse. “You see, Mr. Thorn, your visage is one that would work well as a subject for my work. That is all and I hope that I did not offend you when I mentioned my need of a model. Your presence simply reminded me of the next type of art I’d like to attempt.”

  Anna snuck a look up at him from the corner of her eye. He was staring at her, his jaw slightly slack and his eyebrows raised, as if she’d lost her mind.

  Goodness, that did not go well at all. “I understand that such a project would be considered scandalous and I should have held my silence. What I wish to do and what is allowed are two different matters entirely, and something I must come to terms with.”

  With a deep sigh, she turned and faced him. “I don’t wish for you to think me forward. I am an honorable and respectable woman. That is all. I have put the thought of sculpting you, or anyone, from my mind.”

  There, that should clear matters up and perhaps he would forget those last few minutes on the beach.

  “And sketching?” he asked. “Do you intend to continue?”

  “Of course. Just because I must give up one form of art does not mean I must give them all up. It is who I am.”

  He simply nodded, though a frown remained. She turned and continued walking. Clearly, she had not made it right yet. “Though I’d liked to sculpt,” she added. “Too many people would not think it proper.” She sighed.

  “You can understand why they would think so,” Mr. Thorn said.

  Drat, he thought her improper. She had ruined everything. Oh, if only she could take back what she had said on the beach, but it was not to be.

  “That is because they don’t understand that the subject of an artist, when viewed for the purpose of painting, sketching and sculpting, is no different than say a botanist studying plants, or a physician examining an injury. It is something to be studied and understood. The only reason society takes issue is because a human body is involved and not a leaf.” That was it! The perfect analogy. She turned to grin up at him. “To an artist, they are the same. If I were of a mind to sculpt a leaf, I would look upon it no differently than I would when sculpting the human form.”

  “I do believe I am beginning to understand.”

  “So, I hope you see that I was not behaving improperly, and I hope that you can forgive anything I might have said to make you uncomfortable.”

  “It’s already forgiven, Miss Southward.”

  His voice was a bit tight and his smile strained, as if he truly didn’t forgive her.

  Blast! Well, there was nothing else she could do. If he couldn’t accept her for who she was, she didn’t wish to further their acquaintance anyway. She already had to contend with her judgmental and domineering uncle. The last thing she wished in her life was another gentleman approving and disapproving of what she did and said.

  They reached the gate outside of the Caldwell home and Anna turned to Mr. Thorn to offer a quick curtsey. “Thank you for carrying my basket.”

  Mr. Thorn bowed and handed it back to her, though a frown still remained on his lips and his eyebrows were drawn together in consternation. “You’re quite welcome, Miss Southward.”

  She’d ask why he seemed so bewildered and disturbed, but she could already guess. Mr. Thorn disapproved of her and she should have held her tongue because she clearly only made matters worse. Not better. It was a bit disheartening and depressing. “Good day.” With that, she opened the gate and stepped away from him.

  To think for a full year he had been all she could think about. She’d looked forward to seeing him again and couldn’t wait to sketch his features. Then, when he appeared on the beach, it was if all of her dreams had come true. Then she had to go and ruin everything by blurting out what she wished for more than anything. He didn’t approve of her, and that was very clear. It was such a shame.

  “Poor Caldwell,” Callie began as she and Lila made their way into Ravenglass just like they used to. “It’s simply tragic.”

  “Yes,” Lila agreed. And it was. The poor man. She couldn’t imagine a more awful fate. “Papa was graveside first thing this morning for services. I just don’t understand how it happened. He’s worked in that smithy for as long as I can remember. He had to know it like the back of his hand.”

  “Cyrus says he slipped on something, hit his head and was pinned in the forge.”

  Lila shivered at the thought.

  “Braden and Cyrus were at Marisdùn nearly all night.”

  “How is your brother? I never see him anymore.” Once upon a time, Lila couldn’t get Sir Cyrus to leave her alone, but ever since Alice, the baker’s sweet daughter, had caught the magistrate’s attention, Lila hadn’t seen him at all, not even at Sunday services.

  “I think he’s going to propose. Can you believe it?”

  “He does seem very taken with her.”

  Callie bumped her shoulder with Lila’s. “If you want to be my sister, this is your last chance. I’m sure I could get him to change his mind.”

  Lila couldn’t help but laugh. Sir Cyrus was hardly the sort she could imagine spending the rest of her life with. He was about as different from Lord Quentin Post as one could get. Still, he had a genuine heart and she truly did hope he and Alice would be extraordinarily happy. “And break poor Alice’s heart?” she teased. “I wish them all the best.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” Callie smiled as they approached High Street. “Oh, I meant to tell you. Daphne and Wolf arrived at Marisdùn last night. She’s going to meet us at Appleton’s.”

  Of course, Daphne had always possessed a sweet tooth. “Just like old times, hmm?”

  “Almost,” Callie agreed. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Of course not!” Lila touched a hand to her heart. “I adore Daphne, and if she’s at Marisdùn, I won’t be seeing her there. So this is wonderful.”

  “I know you adore he
r. It’s just that we haven’t had a chance to talk, just the two of us. I was hoping we’d get the chance yesterday, but you had to leave so suddenly.”

  Yes, when Lord Quentin had arrived out of the blue. “I am sorry about that.” And even though Callie was and always would be Lila’s closest friend in the world, she couldn’t tell her that she had to escape Braewood in that moment because Lord Quentin had arrived. The man was, after all, her family now. “But Papa has been insisting on attending Dorcas Society functions of late and I realized I had to be home to meet him or he’d be in temper.”

  “Your father is always in a temper.”

  “Yes,” Lila agreed. “But even more so if I forget something important.”

  “Well, just tell him that Lady Bradenham is in town for the next sennight and expects your full, undivided attention until she leaves.”

  “Have you been gone so very long, Lady Bradenham, that you’ve forgotten who my father is?” Lila laughed. “Besides, he’s not terribly fond of the Post family. So I doubt that your very lofty name would mean much to him at all.”

  “Yes, well, the Posts are perfectly pleasant people.” Callie winced slightly. “With the possible exception of my mother-in-law, but I hear that is to be expected.” Then her face brightened. “Speak of the devil,” she said cheerfully as a shadow fell across their path.

  “Speak of the devil?” Lord Quentin’s voice made Lila’s heart leap. “Were the two prettiest girls in all of Cumberland discussing me?”

  Callie laughed. “We were talking Posts in general and the dowager marchioness in particular.”

  His warm, hazel eyes flicked from Lila back to Callie. “I do hate it when I’m confused with my stepmother.”

  “Never that, my dear, Quent.” His sister-in-law giggled once more. “But as you are a Post in general—”

  “And in particular,” he added with a grin.

  “Yes, well, I was simply saying that the Posts were perfectly pleasant people.”

  His gaze flashed back to Lila. “I do hope, my dear, you weren’t taking the opposite stance, unless it was to specific Posts in particular. Braden can be a great bore. Hope completely ridiculous. Grace could try the nerves of a saint. And Patience—”

  “Are you saying you are the most perfect Post, my lord?” Lila couldn’t help but laugh. But then he’d always had the ability to charm her, with just a word or two and with one of those soul-searing gazes of his. Even knowing that he didn’t love her, she couldn’t help but love him.

  “I do like the sound of that.” He quirked her a grin that she felt all the way to her toes. Then he turned his attention once more to his brother’s wife. “Speaking of Posts, Callie, is my brother in town today?”

  She shook her head, and her blonde curls bobbed against her shoulders. “He’s at Braewood keeping watch over your sisters. He’s been threatening all day to stick a certain earl’s head on a pike should the fellow come within ten feet of Hope, just so you know.”

  “I shall warn the earl in question when I next see him.” He heaved a sigh, then a rakish twinkle lit his eyes. “Actually, my dear sister-in-law, I am quite put out with you, now that I think about it. I thought you liked me at least a little.”

  “Me?” She touched a hand to her heart. “What could I possibly have done, Quent?”

  He winked at Lila. “It is my understanding from the lovely Lila here that over the last year you have written her quite a few tidbits about our family’s goings on.”

  Callie cast a sidelong glance at Lila as though she was thoroughly confused. “We are old friends. We’ve always told each other everything.”

  “Yes, but in all that time, you didn’t mention me even once. Certainly, I’ve done something of merit, something you could have told Lila about in regards to me. I am feeling quite slighted.”

  Callie laughed, catching on quickly that he was teasing her. “I shall have to remedy that this instant, Quent.” Then she towed Lila closer to her and said in a very loud whisper, “You will never guess why Lord Quentin is hosting his masquerade tonight…”

  And in that instant, Lila’s heart twisted in her chest. Lord Quentin’s brow furrowed quite dramatically as though this little game had taken a turn he hadn’t counted on.

  “…He’s searching for an angel who kissed him last year,” Callie confided, “and—”

  “—he hopes to duplicate the event, from invitation lists to costumes, in the hope that the elusive lady will reappear,” Lila said, keeping her eyes even with Lord Quentin’s. “Yes, I know.”

  “Oh!” Callie sighed. “He already told you. I suppose you don’t have any idea who the girl is?”

  “I’m not certain she exists,” Lila said, watching his lordship as closely as she ever had.

  “She’s not a figment of my imagination,” he said, sounding much more curt than usual.

  “That doesn’t mean she exists, my lord.” Then Lila glanced at Callie to her side and said, “We really shouldn’t keep Daphne waiting. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” the marchioness agreed as she nodded farewell to her brother-in-law. “See you tonight, Quent.” And then she linked her arm with Lila’s once more and started towards Appleton’s.

  “He’s at Braewood, you say?” Lord Quentin called after them.

  Callie glanced back over her shoulder. “Until this evening when we all head to Marisdùn.” Then she resumed her course, towing Lila right along with her.

  Something in Quent’s chest twisted painfully as Callie and Lila strode down High Street away from him. He wasn’t entirely certain what it was, but he thought it quite likely was his heart. He truly hadn’t expected his heart to be involved in anything upon his return to Ravenglass. It had been a different organ all together that had motivated this twelve month search.

  If he wouldn’t look quite ridiculous doing so, he would kick his own arse for the unfortunate turn in that last conversation. It was all his fault. He couldn’t even blame Callie. He’d set her up perfectly to say the one thing he’d really rather not have her say to Lila. He’d been a complete idiot not to think that through. A complete and total idiot.

  He heaved a sigh as he started for the taproom stables where he’d left Falacer that morning.

  What was he even doing, flirting with Lila Southward anyway? He’d come to Ravenglass for his angel and that was that. But every moment spent with Lila made the desire to find his angel diminish that much more. He had, in short, gone and lost his bloody mind.

  To make matters worse, he didn’t have time to think about any aspect of this situation either. He’d just buried a dead servant. He had talk to his brother about the blacksmith’s pension. He had guests already arriving at Marisdùn. He had to somehow find an enormous stash of sàisde fiadhain, whatever the devil that was. And he…Damn it all. His mind went right back to Lila Southward and the expression she’d worn just now.

  She’d seemed angry with him, hadn’t she? Or was it hurt he’d seen flash in her grey eyes? He cringed at the memory then nodded at the stable lad to retrieve his stallion.

  What did Lila even have to be hurt about? The fact that he was searching out some other girl?

  He winced at the thought, even though there was no reason to do so. He hadn’t behaved inappropriately or in a way that should make her expect anything from him. He hadn’t made any sort of declarations to her. He hadn’t even kissed her, no matter how often he’d wanted to. The most he’d ever done was carry her back to the vicarage when she’d been unable to walk the previous year, and then yesterday, he’d held her hand as he’d lain injured in the road. That was the extent of the liberties he’d taken, even if he’d wanted to take more. But taking more would mean…Well, taking more would require things like proposals and promises and…Things he’d never truly considered giving to any girl. The very idea terrified him more than death, more than any ghost, more than even that terrible thing he’d seen yesterday along the side of the road.

 
; “There you are, old boy.” He smiled tentatively at his horse and then tossed the stable lad a coin for his troubles.

  A moment later, he rode out of Ravenglass, though his mind was still on a certain brunette who was back in town and the pained expression he’d seen on her face. Damn it all, he was fairly certain he’d see that expression when he closed his eyes to fall asleep that night. How bloody inconvenient that was.

  He rode straight to Braewood, every thought in his head focused on Lila Southward the whole way – her pleasant disposition, her ebony hair that he would quite like to run his fingers through, her soft skin that he’d revel in touching if he got the chance, and those perfect lips of hers. The things he could do with those lips.

  “Milord,” the Braewood stable boy greeted him upon his arrival, breaking Quent from his reverie.

  Good thing the boy had done so too, or he might have ridden right back to Ravenglass, scooped Lila Southward up in his arms and kissed her perfect lips like he’d wanted to when he first met her. And what a foolish thing that would be. He dismounted and handed the reins to the lad. “Give him a few oats, will you?”

  The boy nodded quickly, and Quent started for the manor’s entrance.

  Muckle met him at the front door before Quent could even knock. “My lord, do come in,” the butler said, holding the door wide. “You’ve come for—”

  “Oh thank heavens, Quent!” Grace called from the threshold of the parlor. “I’m so glad you got my note.”

  Note? What in the world had he missed now? “Has something happened?” he asked, hastening towards his sister, a slight panic in his voice.

  “Braden is saying we can’t attend tonight. But it’s your masquerade. Talk some sense—”

  “Do not think to play us against each other,” Braden grumbled from inside the parlor.