"It might well be the same phenomenon," Victoria said. "I can ask the staff to keep a lookout for your things, though, if you tell me what's gone missing."
He couldn't do that, because nothing actually had gone missing. The whole story was made up. "I can speak tomystaff about it if I decide that needs to happen," he told her.
"I was only trying to help," she said mildly. "If you don't want my help, that's quite all right. You're free to handle it yourself."
"That's right."
They sat in silence for a moment in the wake of that little spat. Eventually, James spoke. "As I said," he said, "that wasn't what I meant when I told you I had had similar experiences. I was referring to walking through cold spots in the house. That never made sense to me. The first time it happened I thought I must have contracted a chill. But now I think it's more likely to have been what you're suggesting."
"So—so youdobelieve me about the haunting?"
"I'm not saying that I believe or disbelieve it. I'm only saying that I experienced something like what you've described," James said. "I don't know if that has any significance, but I do know that it happened."
Victoria looked troubled. She set her wine glass down very slowly.
James felt a surge of triumph. This confirmed what he had thought. He'd been right that she was lying about her own experiences—about the cold spots in the house and her suspicions that ghosts were involved. She had never felt anything of the kind. She must have read somewhere that this was a sign that might indicate a haunting, and she had brought it up hoping to scare him. But by telling her that he had experienced it too, he was lending credibility to the story, and nowshewas the one who was frightened.
James couldn't help it—he was amused by her.
He knew that he shouldn't have been. She was lying to him and trying to trick him, and that was the sort of thing that ordinarily would have had him in a rage. But for some reason, he felt different because it was her. He didn't know how to explain it. He only knew that he was enjoying teasing her. He was enjoying the fact that she looked nervous. And the amount of enjoyment that he found himself getting out of this shared meal had him looking forward to what was to come—all the balls that they would attend together and all the experiences they would share.
He hadn't wanted to come to Stormwell. He hadn't wanted to meet his late cousin's wife and deal with her damaged reputation.
But now the he was here, against all odds, he found himself enjoying it.
CHAPTER 9
Victoria lay awake into the night, staring up at her ceiling in the dark and thinking about the conversation she'd had over dinner.
She didn't want to take it too seriously. Sheshouldn'ttake it too seriously. She had made up the tale about ghosts that she had told James. There were no ghosts in this house. She'd lived here for two years. She knew there weren't.
How could it be that the place felt more frightening, more forbidding, now that someone else had moved in than it ever had when she had been on her own? The loneliness should have made the house more frightening, not less, but now she longed for the days when she had been here on her own—days she knew were gone forever.
With a sigh, she got out of bed. Her heart was beating too rapidly to allow her to relax, and she knew that it was unlikely to stop any time soon. Every time she thought her mind might be atease, she remembered what James had said about noticing cold spots.
Everyone knew that cold spots were signs of ghosts being present. And after all, therehadbeen a death in this house not very long ago. What if the late duke's spirit was not at rest? What if he walked these halls even now?
She shivered. There was absolutely no way she was going to be able to sleep tonight.
She decided to go to the library, as she sometimes did when she was restless. The library had been a blessing over the past two years, giving her countless options when she wanted something to read. Since she wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, a book seemed like just the thing to take her mind off of her troubles.
She made her way down the hall. As she pulled open the library door and heard the familiar creak—a sound that had become downright homey to her over the last two years—it occurred to her that if James had his way she would soon be losing access to this. She would no longer be able to sit and read these books at her leisure. In fact, she would be unable to read them again at all.
Perhaps her new husband would also have a substantial library…
She shook her head. What was she thinking? There wasn't going to be any new husband. She was resolved in her decision not to marry. That wasn't going to change. She'd allowed herself to be shaken by the fact that James claimed he had experienced the effects of a haunting, but…well, he was probably lying, wasn'the?Shehad been lying about it. He was probably lying too. There was probably nothing to worry about.
Probably.
She went into the library and scanned the shelves, eventually selecting a book. Victoria's usual habit was to scan the spines of the books until she found one that looked promising, so she usually ended up reading things she hadn't chosen deliberately. It was a practice she was proud of, because it meant that she read more widely than she otherwise would have. As soon as the book was in her hands, she began to feel more sure of herself. She went over to the fire and settled in her favorite chair, grateful for the fact that she had instructed her servants to keep the fire in this room lit all night long. It meant she would always have light and warmth when she came to the library in the middle of the night, and it also meant that the library felt like a refuge to her. It had become a place where she could retreat and be herself without any worries about what was going on in the rest of the world.
And that was how she felt now, the moment she opened the book in her hands. All her troubles seemed to melt away. Her anxiety at the possibility of the house being haunted disappeared, and so did her anger at James and her worry over what he might do to her. It was impossible to feel those things in a moment like this.
She began to read.
Before long, she was so engrossed in the book that she had lost track of everything going on around her. Even immediate things,like the crackling of the fire, no longer touched her. She had slipped entirely into the world of the book.
"Victoria…"
