The Lady Unmasked Page 8

  There had to be something that could be done about the air inside the place. Perhaps they could keep all the windows open throughout the day. Perhaps a fresh scrubbing from room to room. Perhaps…

  “Milord,” the stable boy interrupted Quent’s thoughts, leading his beautiful Anglo-Arabian from the stables. “He is ready.”

  And he was a gorgeous animal. A gorgeous, strong animal that really should sire a team that would do much better on the circuit than the one this year had done. Quent smoothed a hand over Falacer’s neck. “Let’s go for a real ride, boy. What do you think?”

  Quent pushed up into the saddle, tipped his hat at the stable boy and urged his favorite stallion forward. They took it slow at first, until after they’d made it past the ancient battlements. But once they were along the road to Ravenglass, and the sun was shining and it was beautiful, Quent pushed Falacer faster. The wind raced through his hair and he felt alive. He leaned forward, nearly hugging himself to the stallion’s neck.

  And then, up ahead, he spotted a girl walking along the side of the road. Dear God…

  Lila Southward, with her dark hair around her shoulders, just like when they first met. Only this time there was no Callie, no Garrick, no Thorn anywhere in the vicinity. And this time he wasn’t about to let Falacer throw a rock and hit her in the head. No, no, no. This time would be different on all fronts.

  “Whoa,” he whispered to his horse, pulling back on the reins and slowing them to a nice leisurely walk. She was so lovely, he could just watch for hours on end and never tire of her beauty.

  Miss Southward must have heard them approach. She looked over her should and…

  Dear God!

  The most frightening, ghoulish face Quent had ever seen in his life looked back at him. Red, glowing eyes set in a face of rotting skin. Equally spooked, Falacer reeled up on his hind legs, knocking Quent from his back before he bolted away.

  Quent let out a yell of surprise as he fell backwards onto the ground, hitting his head on a rather large rock. The edges of his vision turned dark and the last thing he saw before blackness took him was that ghoulish face with red eyes right over top of him.

  One who is gracious to a poor man lends to the Lord, and He will repay him for his good deed. Proverbs 19:17

  Lila adored the Dorcas Society, she always had. The charity had been founded by her mother nearly two decades earlier, as a young vicar’s wife who was new to the district. Lila had grown up, sitting at her mother’s knee and watching scraps of muslin, cotton or wool fabric be transformed into clothing of some sort or another for the poor and underprivileged of Ravenglass and Torrington. Mama had been a master seamstress and though Lila wasn’t quite as talented as her late-mother, she was still proficient with a needle and thread. However, she’d learned at an early age that she was even better at organizing the locals. Everyone, she supposed, had their own strengths. Even though Mama had been gone seven years, the Dorcas Society that she’d loved so dearly was still going strong under Lila’s watchful eye.

  While the majority of the local women were happy to contribute to the charity, more was always accomplished when the society had a social aspect to it. Therefore, the women of the charity met weekly for an hour or two at the local assembly room where they stitched, chatted and shared supplies amongst themselves.

  In all the years that Mama had run the society, Papa had never once stepped foot inside the circle of the charity. But after she was gone, he’d taken much more of an interest, showing up from time to time and sharing his thoughts with the participants. Lila could usually do without Papa’s thoughts, but she was never in the position to say so. She wasn’t certain if the society simply reminded him of Mama and finding a way to be involved was a way to keep her memory alive in his heart or if it was just one more thing for him to control.

  “You shouldn’t distract Mrs. Atkinson when she is stitching, Lila,” Papa began as they walked back towards the vicarage. “She would have finished that smock if you hadn’t kept her from it.”

  Honor thy father, she could almost hear Mama’s words echo in her ears. Some days it was easier to do than others. “She was excited to tell me that Corporal Atkinson has taken a position of steward for a noble family in Yorkshire. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  She felt his gaze on her out of the corner of her eye, but she refused to look in his direction. After all, Papa had never approved of George Atkinson, nor his infatuation with Lila before he’d joined the 34th Foot and headed off to the continent some years ago. Not that Lila had any control over whether or not George Atkinson had taken a liking to her or not. She’d certainly never done anything to encourage him. She had been quite young at the time.

  “So he’s not returning to the district, then?” he asked a moment later.

  “Apparently not,” she returned. And that should make Papa happy to hear. Perhaps he’d refrain from plying her with his usual list of complaints the rest of the way home. “He made the acquaintance of some officer from Yorkshire that took a liking to him and has offered him employment at his family’s estate.”

  “Well,” he said, sounding more cheerful than usual, “I do hope he’ll be happy in Yorkshire. That is good news.”

  Good news for Papa, certainly. Lila bit back a smile and she was quite pleased that they traveled some distance in silence. The day had turned fairly chilly that afternoon and she pulled her wrap tighter about her arms. They weren’t too far from home and she could warm up there if she offered to help keep Cook company in the kitchen while she finished supper.

  “What in the world?” Papa breathed out, breaking Lila from her thoughts. “Anna Southward!” he called loudly. “What are you doing?”

  And that’s when Lila realized that a carriage was parked rather haphazardly up ahead and that her cousin Anna and a very expectant Brighid Chetwey where hunched over something…or someone, rather, lying along the side of the road. Heavens! What in the world had happened?

  Papa increased his stride and hastened towards the pair, and Lila lifted the edge of her skirts, trying her best to keep pace with him. She failed at that. Papa was much taller and reached…Lord Quentin, lying lifeless at Anna’s and Brighid’s feet.

  Oh! “My lord!” Lila’s breath caught in her throat. What had happened to her Lord Quentin? Had he been hit? Without thinking, she dropped to her knees beside him and touched a hand to his brow. He was icy cold to the touch like he’d been dipped in the Irish Sea.

  “What happened?” Papa demanded again.

  Out of breath, Anna shook her head. “I’m not certain, Uncle Walter. I was coming back from the village when this huge black horse nearly ran me over. And then I saw…something, I’m not certain what. A shadow or something hovering right here. And that’s when I saw him like this, lying on the ground. Whatever was here faded away like it was my imagination and perhaps it was. I’m not certain what I saw, but when I realized he wasn’t coming to, I ran to fetch Mrs. Chetwey.”

  Papa scowled at that. He wasn’t terribly fond of Brighid on his best day. Healers, and other such nonsense, he would say. Not that Anna would have had a lot of choices now that Dr. Alcott had gone off to London and the next doctor was even further away than Torrington was. Of course, in her present condition it was surprising she made the short journey.

  Lila, however, was quite relieved to find Brighid there. She’d seen firsthand the powers the healer possessed. She blinked up at the girl and said, “Can you help him?”

  “He is very weak,” Brighid said, frowning more than Lila would like. “But he’s breathing and I’ll do what I can.”

  “You there!” Papa called to the Chetwey coachman. “Can’t you ride for Whitbeck and fetch Dr. Robbins?”

  “Papa,” Lila said softly. “We may need the coach to move Lord Quentin back to Marisdùn.” She touched her hand to his brow once more, her heart nearly breaking in two he was so freezing, so lifeless. How she loved this man, his roguish smile, his handsome face, his irreverent sense of humor, the wa
y just a look from him could melt her insides and send her heart racing. What she wouldn’t give for him to look at her right now, for him to wake up and be all right. Lila grasped his lordship’s hand at his side and squeezed, willing him to wake.

  “No, no,” Brighid began, slowly kneeling beside Lord Quentin opposite Lila, which was something in her present condition. “He’s hit his head. We don’t want to move him just yet. I’d like to see if we can get him to come to first. See what sorts of injuries he might have sustained before we try to get him anywhere.”

  Then Brighid uncorked a small, dark bottle and placed it right beneath Lord Quentin’s nose. His brow furrowed, which was the first sign of life, Lila had seen. He squeezed her hand slightly. And then his nose twitched and his warm, hazel eyes opened.

  A look of horror flashed in his eyes when they landed on her and he let out a strangled gasp as he tried push away.

  “What is it, my lord?” she asked, squeezing his hand tighter, her heart almost breaking as he looked at her with such fear.

  “Lila?” he gasped out. “Is that really you?”

  The sound of her name on his lips floated around her heart. “Yes, my lord, it’s me.”

  Quent sucked in a steadying breath. For a moment, he’d thought she was that creature, the one he’d seen by the side of the road, the one that had spooked Falacer. Damn it all. “Falacer!” he grumbled. Where the devil was his stallion?

  “I beg your pardon?” Lila asked softly, her silvery eyes wide as she looked at him with such concern.

  “My horse,” he whispered.

  “Quent,” Brighid’s voice calmly floated over him. “How is your head? Does it hurt?”

  “Brighid?” He glanced to his left to find Chetwey’s very expectant witch at his side. And a blonde beauty behind her. And Lila’s humorless father just a few feet away.

  “Do you remember what happened, Quent?” Brighid asked.

  He glanced back at Lila and realized she was holding his hand. He couldn’t help but squeeze her fingers in his as he looked at her beautiful but worried face. “I thought I saw you, but…”

  “Me?” Her mouth fell slightly open and Quent would have loved to have pressed his lips to hers. But once again there was an unfortunate audience hanging about.

  “My daughter was nowhere near here,” Vicar Southward grumbled, glaring at him as though he could tell the thoughts Quent was entertaining in his mind about the girl. Or perhaps he just spotted Quent brush his fingertips over Lila’s knuckles as he still held her hand and was not in any hurry to release her hold.

  “No, it was something else,” Quent breathed out, remembering the horrific face once again. He’d never seen anything so terrifying in his life. Those hateful red eyes and that evil glare. “And then it was over me.”

  “I saw something,” the other brunette said. “Hovering over you, but it vanished when I came upon you.”

  “Hovering over me?”

  “Sounds like something might have followed you from Marisdùn,” Brighid muttered with a frown.

  Well, that was hardly good news. “But we banished my great-grandmother.” Nothing else inside the castle’s walls had ever tried to harm him before.

  “Yes.” Brighid agreed with an incline of her head. “But there are certainly a plethora of other sprits within the walls.”

  “That is completely ridiculous.” The vicar scoffed. “Marisdùn Castle is not haunted. I’ve been inside the castle hundreds of times and never encountered any such thing. Only fools believe otherwise.”

  It really was difficult to believe that the far from charming vicar was Lila’s father. It was difficult to believe they were related at all, honestly. She was kind and amusing and he was…neither of those things.

  Brighid seemed to be of the same mind as she cast Quent a glance that said arguing the point with the man would be a waste of time. “Do you think you can stand, Quent?” she asked. “If we can get you back to the castle, I can do a more thorough examination of your head.”

  The castle with the heavy air and oppressive feel. Of course that was before Quent had gone off and been besieged by that creature. He squeezed Lila’s hand once more and turned his gaze to her. “Will you come with me?”

  Her eyes softened and he was certain she was going to agree until her father said, “My girls and I need to return to the vicarage, if Mrs. Chetwey is fine without us.”

  “Of course, Mr. Southward,” Brighid said. “I can manage just fine.”

  Ten

  Papa had grumbled the entire way home. But luckily he’d waited until they were back at the vicarage before erupting in anger. “What is going on between you and Lord Quentin?” he demanded just as Anna closed the vicarage door.

  Lila had no idea how to answer that question. What was going on with Lord Quentin? He’d held onto her hand that entire time like she was his lifeline. “We’re just friends,” she decided to say. “Callie is married to his brother.”

  “And do all of Lord Bradenham’s friends call you Lila?” he yelled, his eyes alit with indignation. “Do all of Lord Bradenham’s friends hold on to your person as though you belong to them? Do all—”

  “He was injured, Uncle Walter,” Anna said, very clearly trying to help. But she’d known Papa long enough to know that was a bad idea.

  “And you!” He glared at Anna. “Searching out that Chetwey woman…”

  “There was no one else I could go to for help,” she protested.

  “Gallivanting across the countryside in her condition. It’s disgraceful. That woman is wholly unacceptable and you well know it. I have a position in this community. I am a leader in Ravenglass and your actions—” he looked pointedly at both Anna and Lila “—diminish my credibility when you cavort with healers and cads alike.”

  It was on Lila’s tongue to say that Lord Quentin was not a cad, but the door to the parlor swung open at that moment and Tilly breezed inside, as happy as Lila had ever seen her.

  “What a wonderful day!” she said brightly.

  “I trust you haven’t been cavorting with healers and cads all day, Matilda.” Papa narrowed his eyes on her.

  Tilly blinked in surprise, touching a hand to her heart. “Me?”

  “To your rooms, all of you. I don’t want to see any of you until supper.”

  All three girls hung their heads and started for their rooms. “What has him in a temper now?” Tilly complained as she dropped onto her bed.

  “He’s in a mood,” Lila returned, sinking onto the edge of her bed.

  “He’s always in a mood.”

  That was true. “Yes, well, Lord Quentin took a fall from his horse and Anna went for Brighid Chetwey and…”

  “That explains it.” Then Tilly pushed up on her elbows. “Lord Quentin, you say? You saw his dashing lordship today?”

  “We came upon him, lying in the middle of the road.”

  “Is he all right?” Tilly frowned.

  He was better than all right. He was, in a word, perfect. But that wasn’t what Tilly meant. “He seemed it. Brighid went back to Marisdùn to look him over. I’m certain he’ll be fine.”

  Her sister grinned unrepentantly. “You’ve a blush on your cheeks. Did something happen? Did he kiss you again?”

  “Shh!” Lila waved her hands for her sister to lower her voice. Heaven help them both if Papa should overhear that. “He did not,” she added softly. “For heaven’s sake, Papa was there the whole time.”

  “I’d wager that if you told him you’re his missing angel, he would kiss you again, even if Papa was there.”

  Lila didn’t think that was true in the least. And she wasn’t about to have this conversation again. “Just stop, will you? Anyway, I had to make excuses for you at the Dorcas Society,” she began. “Did you retrieve your diary?”

  Poor Tilly’s diary had gone missing somehow, but luckily Mr. Garrick had stumbled upon it and sent her a missive saying as much.

  Tilly cringed. “I went to Marisdùn to meet Mr. Garr
ick, but…” She sighed, looking truly tortured. “Well, he couldn’t find it. He thinks those ghost children have taken it or something. Oh, Lila, what will I do if it doesn’t turn up?”

  Her sister was never without her diary. “The ghost children who took Lady Patience’s ribbon?”

  “That’s what he said. But why would they want my diary?”

  That Lila didn’t have an answer to. “Try not to fret. I’m sure it’ll be found,” though she wasn’t truly certain at all. But that would be the last thing Tilly needed to hear.

  Quent winced as the Chetwey coach found a hole in the road and jostled him against the squabs. The back of his head hurt like the devil. “I do appreciate you coming all the way from Torrington Abbey. Is Chetwey going to have my head for this?”

  Brighid tilted her head to the side as though she was trying to sort him out. “Why would he do that?”

  Because she was very clearly only days away from giving birth and she’d bolted across Cumberland on Quent’s behalf. “Your, uh, condition.”

  At that, she grinned. “I’m not as delicate as you might think, Quent.”

  No, she only looked delicate. The lady had taken down a malevolent ghost last year, almost single-handedly. But he still didn’t imagine she should be traipsing across the countryside this close to her delivery. And if anything had happened to her, Blake Chetwey would be well within his rights to murder Quent on sight. “Delicate is not a word that pops to mind when I think of you, my dear.”

  Her grin only widened. “Are you planning on staying in Ravenglass now that Marisdùn is yours? Or will you head back to Buckinghamshire?”

  He shrugged slightly. “I’m not sure of my plans.” He’d only thought as far as the masquerade and finding his elusive angel. Planning anything beyond that hadn’t even crossed his mind. But ever since he’d returned to Ravenglass, he’d thought of very little other than Lila Southward. How utterly strange was that? He’d always liked Lila, but…Well, she was the sort of girl a man could lose his freedom to. And Quent really did enjoy his freedom. Still, as he’d lain in the middle of the road and she’d clutched his hand in hers, the last thing he ever wanted to do was let her go.