“I’ve never seen her, and I grew up here. My friends would spend the night here and we’d roam the rooms and halls calling for her. No luck. I came to accept she was nothing more than an amusing legend.
“My father said he thought he saw her once from the corner of his eye when he was walking along a side corridor in the east wing, but then he just laughed, blamed it on the luncheon oysters. My mother never saw her either.” Max paused a moment, searched Grayson’s face. He drew a deep breath. “Lady Hilda came to Crispin some time in the night to warn her.” And he repeated her words.A sweet, clever girl. Evil is coming. For you.
Grayson set his teacup down. “The person you brought here to Storne Hope with you, this is Crispin?”
Max nodded. “Yes, sorry, let me give you a bit of background. She’s a little girl I found hiding under a pile of shirts in my armoire in the London house two weeks ago. I knew she’d run away, but from whom she wouldn’t tell me. She also refused to give me her name.Crispincame out of her mouth when I asked her. Even now she still won’t tell me who she really is, and so I call her Crispin Smith. Even though I don’t know many children, I realized immediately she was very smart, such wit in a child. I was amazed. She’s brave, Grayson, and she has more optimism than even I had at eighteen. My mother believes she can’t be more than seven or eight years old.”
Grayson said, “You made no inquiries?”
Max shook his head. “This is why. My mother told me she went into the bathing room when Crispin was washing and saw welts on the child’s back. She backed out quickly so Crispin never saw her, but she told me. This beautiful child—someone beat her, Grayson.
“I know she must be a member of one of the families in Holland Square, and that means her family is old and rich and highly placed in society. I couldn’t take the chance of questioning my neighbors for fear they’d demand to have her back. I decided to remove her from London and bring her to Storne Hope to hide her, to keep her safe. But now with the appearance of Lady Hilda and her warning, I realize I have to accept this is something far different from what I believed. I knew I either had to remove her from England or call on you to help us.” He paused, then, “She’s afraid because she told mehealways found her, always, no matter where she hid from him. She said he pretends to be human, but he’s not. So, a demon? A spirit? To be honest, I don’t know what to think.” Max shrugged. “When I say it aloud, it makes me want to commit myself to an asylum. I mean, to imagine a malevolent being living in Holland Square, someone—a man, a woman—someone I speak to many days, someone I’ve very probably dined with, and what?
“It’s bad enough to believe one of these people would beat an innocent child, but to accept this individual is from another realm? I wouldn’t have considered such a thing even though I knew you were special, Grayson, even back at Oxford. You knew things none of the rest of us did. You saw things we couldn’t see.
“But what changed my mind is Lady Hilda. She came to warn her. Crispin knew nothing about our supposed resident ghost, but Lady Hilda came to her in the night to warn her. So yes, I have to believe this evil Crispin managed to escape in London is coming to Storne Hope. And this evil wants this little girl back. I must know who he is so I may kill him. I’m asking you to speak to Crispin, see if you can convince her to tell you what she ran away from.”
Grayson took a sip of his tea, regarded his friend. Of course Max didn’t want to believe anything he’d said about an otherworldly being, but now he couldn’t deny it. His struggle to believe in the evil, his acceptance, was what convinced Grayson. “I’ll do what I can, Max.”
CHAPTER TEN
When the little girl walked into the drawing room, Grayson saw not just a child but a little fairy princess, silky blonde hair held in place with a crown of braids atop her small head. She was as fair as a spring day, tall, on the thin side, but it was her eyes that held him. They were a light gray framed with thick darker lashes, deep eyes, eyes that held something he’d seen only a few times—she had magical eyes, a witch’s eyes, and in their depths he saw grinding fear until he smiled and slowly she smiled back, her magical eyes flashed and he saw optimism and joy. Did she know she was a witch? No, very probably not.
The child said to Grayson in a clear sweet voice, “You’re the magic gentleman Max told me about. You slay evil demons. He said he’s known you forever and I can trust you with all my secrets. But that is what secrets mean, isn’t it? No one else knows and you can hold them close and that’s probably best.”
Grayson slowly rose, walked to the little girl, bowed, stretched out his hand. Slowly, ever so slowly, her hand fluttered above his and finally settled. He gave it a light squeeze—little bird bones, so delicate. And he would swear he could feel her blood flowing sweet and strong, witch’s blood. He said, “I’m Grayson, and I have secrets too. I am also a vault—no secret ever gets out. And you are?”
“Crispin. I’m Crispin. I see from the look on Max’s face he told you I made it up, but I hope you believe Crispin is a good name, a solid name, a name with consequence. Max doesn’t like it, but he puts up with it. I have to protect him, you see.”
And up went her little chin, a stubborn chin, he saw. Yes, she was bright as a flame. He nodded. “Crispin is a good name.”
Max said, “Crispin, come drink your tea. I cannot give you the kissed scone, I already gave it to Grayson. But I have one with a half of Mrs. Elvan’s thumbprint.”
She shook her head, spoke in clear perfect English, “I’m sorry, Max, but I can’t. My stomach is flip-flopping and I know I’d lose my breakfast, and this carpet is so very lovely.”
Grayson sat down on the sofa again. Crispin walked to stand beside Max, her hand on his arm. Grayson was about to take the last bite of his kissed scone when he felt a sort of questing, then there was calm, a sense of peace in the very air itself. Lady Hilda? He looked at Crispin. Or was this feeling coming from her? He happened to glance at the fresco with the man and woman walking beside the water. He sensed love now, cherished devotion, not hostility. Had the presence—? And he knew now it wasn’t coming from Crispin, it was indeed a presence and that presence had removed the violence from the frescos Grayson had seen. He heard a soft rustling in the air near him, smelled a light jasmine scent. Lady Hilda? Now his blood didn’t just stir, it sang. He opened himself. He felt a feather touch on his cheek, then—
Max’s voice brought him back. “I’ve told Crispin you’re blessed with gifts, Grayson. Not only do you write about demons and other evil beings, but you yourself have dealt with them.” He paused, smiled. “I remember at Oxford you always knew things before anyone else did. I remember when I cracked a rib riding a half-wild horse on a bet and got tossed in a mess of rocks. I never said a word, but you knew. You bound me up.”
“I remember.” Grayson waited.
The little girl’s chin went up. “I told Max I wanted to read one of your novels, sir. He didn’t want me to, he said it would scare off my toenails, but I told him I had very stout toenails, they could bear anything—” She stopped cold, swallowed. Max smiled, took her small hand in his.
Grayson said easily, “I have a son. He’s five years old, and his name is Pip. He’s heard my stories from the moment he was born and he still has his toenails. You will meet Pip and his friends.”
Max said, “A fine idea.” He turned her to face him. “Listen, it’s time you tell me your name and about your family.” She was shaking her head before he finished speaking.
Grayson said, “Crispin, if we don’t know who is threatening you, then you are putting Max in danger, not protecting him. How can he defend himself if he doesn’t know the enemy?”
Still, she was silent as a stone, her small fingers frantically kneading Max’s jacket sleeve. Finally, she said barely above a whisper, “If I say his name aloud, I know he’ll appear and he’ll take me away and he might kill Max.”
Max opened his mouth, shut it when Crispin said, “She’s here—Lady Hilda. It’s the same sweet smell as the other night. And the air is warmer.”
“Jasmine,” Grayson said.
She cocked her head in question. Max said, “Jasmine is sweet, maybe a taste of honey. Grayson, so you smell jasmine as well?”
“Yes.” He rose and walked around the huge room. “It’s coming from near the fireplace.” He closed his eyes a moment and blanked out his thoughts. He breathed in the lovely scent, but there was no touch to his mind.
