“Higgins!” Gabriel bellowed. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Beg your pardon, Your Grace,” Higgins mumbled as he hobbled into the room. “It’s a ghost.”
“A ghost!”
“A ghost to scare the other ghost.”
“Higgins. You’re not making any sense.”
“Aye, Your Grace. The other ghost was sitting on the fence.” Higgins took the sheet and broom from Gabriel and set it up again. “Outside.”
Gabriel shook his head. Had the old man lost his mind entirely?
“It’s my own idea,” the man boasted. “The best way to fight ghosts is with ghosts, especially if they aren’t actual ghosts.”
Gabriel pressed his fingers against his temples and massaged them. “Higgins.”
“Oh, Your Grace. What to do with the painting?” Higgins pointed at the fireplace. Gabriel looked up. Only now he saw that above the mantle was a gaping space where the old duke’s portrait had hung. “Her Grace insisted on taking it down.”
The painting lay on the floor so that the old duke’s haggard visage grimaced at the ceiling. Gabriel looked down at him. He hadn’t noticed it there and would’ve stepped right on his face had Higgins not stopped him. He’d never known the man who’d left him with this inheritance. But he knew he had been a bad sort of man, grossly neglecting his estate and people. Not that he was much better, his conscience whispered. Had he ever bothered to inquire into the state of his estate? The tenants and their welfare? He tugged at his collar. And blast it, why was he still so infernally hot?
“What do you suggest doing with it, Higgins?” He looked down at the portrait cluelessly.
“What I’d do with it?” Higgins titled his head sideways.
“Yes.”
“I’d burn it,” Higgins muttered. “The man deserved no better.”
For a moment, Gabriel was speechless. “And yet you served the man loyally for what? Twenty years?”
“Twenty-three years, five months, six days and three hours. Then he kicked the bucket.” Higgins bared his yellowed teeth in something that was supposed to be a grin. Then he pulled himself up proudly. “We Higginses have always served the Dukes of Dunross.”
“So you said.” Shame, really, that this Higgins was the last of his kind. Gabriel contemplated for a moment, then said, “Well, Higgins. Do what you must. If Her Grace doesn’t want to see the man’s visage, then so be it. Burn it.”
Higgins’ face lit up with delight. “Aye, Your Grace.” He turned to leave.
“Oh, and Higgins,” Gabriel called after him. “I hope you don’t burn my painting when you outlive me. If they ever make one of me.”
Higgins’ laughter cackled through the corridors as Gabriel returned to his room to ponder on the impact this afternoon had on his sanity.
Gabriel strodeup and down in front of the window, hands clasped behind his back, and wondered where Birdie could be. She hadn’t forgotten, had she?
Tugging at his cravat, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d dressed up like this. He was conscious that the clothing was not the newest fashion. Dash it, he didn’t even know what the newest fashion was. Weren’t these lacy cuffs something that his grandfather had worn in his time? The lace hung over his wrists, and he shook it away impatiently. A man couldn’t pick up anything without the bothersome lace in the way. He was a military man. He preferred simple, clean-cut, no-nonsense clothes.
He paced. He’d been half as nervous before his wedding. Dash it all.Get a grip on yourself, Gabriel. It’s just supper.
Footsteps sounded at the entrance. He jumped.
She was here.
Birdie was dressed in a dark blue gown and scarf that brought the colour out of her eyes. Her hair was parted in the middle and done up, some strands teased out to frame her face, and the candlelight highlighted the auburn colour of her hair.
He gaped at her. What had she said? That she didn’t have the looks? He almost snorted. Then he remembered his manners. “Good evening,” he said politely. He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to approach.
Birdie sat. “This is very fine. I see Higgins has lit the candles. And oh! The flowers!” She jumped up again, went over to the window and smelled the flowers in the vase. They were the same purple flowers he’d picked for her the other day. No other flowers were growing in this place. It relieved him that she seemed to like them.
Higgins came stumbling into the room, nearly dropping the soup tureen. Luckily, Gabriel reacted quickly and caught it before it fell out of his hands. “Thank you, Higgins. We can serve ourselves.”
