‘Blaise?’ A shiver ran up her spine, and she recalled the painting outside her room. His portrait.
The one she’d tried to take down, which someone had hung back up, the one she had been meaning to ask Nick to remove, but somehow the thought always seemed to slip her mind before she could.
That Blaise Chambers…
And suddenly a flood of memories came to her.
‘Behave or Blaise will get you.’ Her father used to laugh about it. Gran had not found it funny at all.
Chambers was said to appear from time to time, walking the halls, lounging in the morning room or the drawing room, and Alex knew of incidents in family lore where servants andguest fled in horror after a night here thanks to Blaise and his wandering ghostly hands.
Arnold had mentioned him too.
Alex remembered the Latin on the painting, that knowing face and the triumphant smirk…
Omnes contra omnes, quos amabant, convertam, et meam, corpus et animam, faciam.
Arnold’s research suggested that, when he died, Chambers had left that message scrawled on the walls of this very house, over and over again. Some of the more gruesome versions of the tale said it was in blood, because why not? One portrait was not enough. Not for him.
How he had done that when his last living victim, or lover depending on the story, Richard, the sixteenth Baron de Wilde, had blown his chest open with a musket, Alex didn’t know, but when did such folktales make sense?
There was even a story about the lost de Wilde treasure, stolen by the man who had manipulated and tried to destroy them. There was a book about him on the shelf over there too, she thought. But she didn’t want to go anywhere near it right now.
Then something hit her.
The links Arnold had sent reported that some people heard the sound of his parties – or orgies, more correctly – but when investigated found all the ground floor rooms quiet and empty. There were so many rumours and half-remembered tales about the man, in life and in death, that he had entered into legend. And, she hadn’t put two and two together at the time…
But she’d heard them too.
In her dreams, but also when she was younger, when she stayed here. But her recollections were so muddled between reality and dreams…
‘Sally used to say…when he wants something…Alex, he doesn’t stop. He manipulates people. Me, Sally, Theo…’ Nick stopped, drawing in a shaky breath, and Alex tried to figure out what on earth that meant. Because she didn’t really want to ask, or find out. ‘And he never stops. Not until he has what he wants.’
She swallowed hard, her throat almost too tight to do so.
‘And what does he want?’ She knew the answer that was coming. There wasn’t really any other answer possible. But that didn’t mean she actually wanted to hear it.
Nick said it anyway, and the crushing finality of it all closed around her like a trap.
‘You. He wants you. The last of the de Wildes.’
CHAPTER 24
NICK
They retreated to the safety of the kitchen, carefully positioning themselves on either side of the huge wooden table, like it was a barricade between them. Safer that way.
Because if the Master of the Revels wanted the two of them together…it was best not to be. Not until they could work out why.
Nick couldn’t explain what had happened up there in the study. It was horribly embarrassing because he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to Alex and had been from the first. But that had not been him up there. And he thought it had probably not been her either. Not entirely, anyway.
Alex was still pale, her hand trembling as she cradled the mug of tea. He could have got one of the nicer tea sets out. Probably should have. But this was all he could manage right now.
What would Theo have said? Alex was his sister. And Nick’s relationship with Theo had been complicated enough already.
And Sally – dear God, what would Sally have said?
What did he tell Alex? What could he tell her about them, about everything that had happened? How would she take that? Things were bad enough as it was.
