“Good morning, Mrs. Wood.”
The guard, a ginger-haired fellow named Jim Ferris, was built like a brick house. He gave a courteous nod, and she reminded herself that he wasn’t the enemy. On the contrary, he’d been hired to protect her.
“Hello, Mr. Ferris.” She hid her nerves behind a smile. “You’re early for your rounds, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. His lordship’s guests are playing croquet in the garden, and ’e wanted us out there to keep watch.”
With Lady Gigi and the others outside, Xenia would have more privacy to speak with Ethan. They hadn’t managed to be alone since his visit to her room, which felt like three years rather than three days ago. Ethan had been busy securing the manor, and the omnipresent guards made sneaking around at night more challenging. She missed him…and needed to talk to him.
She stopped by his study first. The door was cracked open. When she peered inside, he was at his desk, his head bent as he scribbled something.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said softly. “Shall I come back later?”
“No.” Ethan rose, hastily shuffling papers. “Is there something you wanted?”
“It can wait if you are busy.”
“I am never too busy for you.”
Limned by the light of the windows, he looked like a virile god, and a part of her marveled that he was her lover. His imposing grace did make the purpose of her visit more difficult, however. Since the piano incident, he had forbidden her—and the others—from leaving the estate. She knew he was only being protective, but enough was enough.
She went over to him. “I need to go to Chuddums.”
“No,” came his predictable reply.
“Nothing is going to happen,” she insisted. “I have business to attend to in the village. If I don’t find a replacement for Daisy, Berta is going to quit too. She was in tears this morning; she’s simply stretched too thin. I also need to replenish our supplies, arrange deliveries, and?—”
“I said no.”
She threw up her hands. “You cannot keep me trapped in this manor forever…”
Her breath whooshed from her lungs as he caught her by the waist. Her bottom hit his desk with a soft thump. Her hands planted on the blotter as he stood in the vee of her dangling legs.
“Shall we wager on that?” Wicked challenge glinted in his eyes. “You are important to me, Xenia. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
His words transformed her heart into a swarm of butterflies.
“I know you won’t,” she said tremulously. “And that is my point—you’ve taken every precaution. You’ve had locks installed on the doors and windows and arranged a constant patrol of guards. If someone did stage the scene with the piano, they are unlikely to strike again.”
“There is no ‘if’ about it: the hoaxwasperpetrated by a flesh-and-blood bastard, and I’m going to see that justice is served.” His gaze was piercing. “In the meantime, I know what you mean to do, and I forbid it.”
Her pulse raced. “Um, forbid what?”
He snorted. “The purpose of your visit to Chuddums isn’t for housekeeping. You want to find out more about Bloody Thom. You think that if you can understand why he is ‘haunting’ the manor, you can stop him from causing more trouble.”
Odds bodkins. He can read my mind.
“But your plan won’t work,” he said. “Do you know why?”
She sighed. “Because there is no such thing as ghosts?”
“She proves that she is capable of learning.”
She narrowed her eyes. “He, however, has yet to prove that he can have an open mind. Has it occurred to you that there is more than one way to cook an egg?”
“I wasn’t aware that you could cook an egg.” He cocked a brow. “In any fashion.”
She huffed. “My point is that even if it is not a ghost behind these incidents?—”
