‘Thousands would believe you. I do not,’ he said. ‘But have no fear, Mrs Fitzroy. Your secret penchant for erotic literature is safe with me.’ He tapped his nose.
My mouth dropped open, incensed at this.
‘But ... but ...’ I stammered.
‘Uh-uh, the lady doth protest too much, methinks,’ he said, wagging a finger. His laughing eyes lingered on mine and then lowered, most audaciously, to my décolletage! I was shocked into silence as he scoured my cleavage, then slowly raised his gaze back up to mine with a knowing smile. I stared at him helplessly, feeling like he had trapped me into a corner. Oh, he looked like an angel, but he was the devil incarnate and the worst man I had ever encountered!
‘Mr Hart?’ Lucinda’s dulcet tones broke the spell he was weaving over me, and both of us whipped our heads round simultaneously to look at her.
‘Who is Harrington Hart?’
Mr Hart blinked. ‘Pardon?’
‘Harrington. He has written his name all over this book. Look there, on the front page.’ She pointed to it. ‘And also here, in the margin.’ She jabbed a finger. ‘But here, he shortens it to Harry.’ Lucinda sniffed. ‘Whoever Harry is, he does not seem to appreciate that other readers do not want to see his graffiti.’
Mr Hart walked overto Lucinda and took the book from her outstretched hand. He looked at the pages with the offending signature but did not say anything.
‘Who is Harry, Mr Hart?’ I prompted, glad that he had been distracted from torturing me by the bookcase.
‘My elder brother,’ Mr Hart said flatly after a pause.
Lucinda and I looked at each other. ‘Your brother! But I thought you were an only child?’ I said, confused.
‘No, I never said so.’
‘Well, you never mentioned you had a brother.’
Mr Hart handed the book back to Lucinda and perched on the edge of an armchair. Jane was trying hard to look as if she were fixated on her book, but I did not blame her if she was listening in. He had a brother!
‘We had a falling-out. We try not to be at the castle at the same time.’
Oh no, I thought.Not two Mr Harts in existence.‘Is he ... like you?’
‘Not much in personality, though we do look rather similar. My father mixes us up quite frequently.’
‘It’s the Hart bloodline,’ piped up Mr Smith-Withers from his map reading. ‘You all look the same.’
‘The painting in my room ...Heis definitely one of your relations,’ I said, rubbing my arms. My shawl was still obscuring the painting as I had not been able to bring myselfto take it down, so I was half-chilled.
Mr Hart glanced at me. ‘Yes, that’s Royden Hart, my uncle. He was a bit of a dab hand with the sword.’
Mr Smith-Withers guffawed. ‘And with the ladies! He got into a spot of trouble with a friend’s wife and came to an untimely end. He was only thirty!’
‘He was murdered?’ exclaimed Lucinda, sounding shocked, and even Jane looked up from her book at that.
‘Yes, he was run through with his own sword,’ confirmed Mr Hart. He pressed his lips together tightly and did not seem pleased that Mr Smith-Withers was doling out family history without his consent. But now I knew about Royden Hart’s demise, those eyes made more sense.No wonder he looks so annoyed—he was cut down in his rakish prime.
‘He’s still giving us trouble too,’ continued Mr Hart. ‘One of our previous maids refused to clean your room, Mrs Fitzroy. She said it felt like Royden was looking at her from the painting and that it gave her the creeps. You are much too sensible to believe such a notion surely?’
I shuddered. ‘Actually, I happen to agree with her. I can’t say I like that painting much myself.’
‘There is no need to worry. You will be quite safe in that room,’ he said quietly. And I felt slightly comforted by him saying it, as much as one could be comforted by a rogue.
‘Yes, you will be quite safe in there!’ crowed Mr Smith-Withers. ‘His ghost tends to frequent the orchard, the dining hall, and ... the pink bedroom.’
‘Oh no, please noooo,’ whimpered Lucinda. Her eyelids fluttered, and to my horror, she looked ready to faint.
Chapter 15
