“Er, who did?”
“The lover from my dream. He said,‘You could never be a burden. You, my sweet rose, are my salvation.’But someone was coming after her, and she was frightened because now he was in danger too. This good man who was trying to protect her. It felt so real, and I…I thought it was you, so I had to come see…”
“I’m fine, pet.” Ethan cupped her cheek. “But I think I know what the problem is.”
Having spoken her fears aloud, she knew how batty they sounded.
“Do you think I have a screw loose?” she said in a small voice.
“I think you are overtired,” he said firmly. “With Daisy gone, you’ve had more on your hands, and you’ve had to train the new maids as well.”
True to her word, Mrs. Sommers had sent over her nieces Molly, Mary, and Millie, and Xenia had spent the day getting the trio on board. The girls were young and a bit flighty. On the bright side, their boundless energy and tendency to flirt with the footmen gave the staff something to talk about other than Bloody Thom.
Xenia bit her lip. “You don’t think it’s, well,strangethat I feel as if I’m having someone else’s memories?”
“This is because of what Mrs. Sommers said, isn’t it? About Thomas Mulligan and his supposed lover? You think you are dreaming about her memories?”
Beneath his shrewd gaze, she gave a small nod. “The lover in my dream, who could be Mulligan, calls herhis sweet rose,” she said hesitantly. “I think…I think that might be her name:Rose. When I first arrived, I found a beautiful hairbrush in my room, far too expensive for a servant to own, and there’s a rose carved on the back. I think maybe it was a gift from her lover. Oh, and the first time I went into the village, Mr. Walford greeted me by the name ‘Rosalinda’—”
“Do you think it’s possible that you are more observant than most and making connections between coincidental events?” Ethan spoke without judgment. “Building on tales that you’ve heard?”
Itwasin her nature to do those things. She was a storyteller, after all. Moreover, she couldn’t deny that the dreams she’d been having had a lot in common with her own past and fears.
“It’s possible,” she admitted.
“All jests aside, I do want to keep an open mind. While I do not believe that my enemy is supernatural, I do trust your instincts,” he said earnestly. “If you believe the history surrounding Thomas Mulligan and how he died is somehow relevant to what is going on presently, then perhaps we could obtain the address of Mrs. Sommers’s sister in Manchester and write Mr. Walford. Perhaps his reply will shed light on the matter.”
She adored him for taking her seriously, even though he might not agree.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “That would ease my mind greatly.”
“With all this talk of ghosts and curses, it’s no wonder you are on edge. I am too.”
“You are?” She studied him. “One would never know. In fact, you seem to be rather sure of yourself and what needs to be done.”
“It’s a trick I learned when I was performing. Never reveal your nerves to the audience.”
“Pretend until it’s true,” she said sagely. “But you don’t have to hide your nerves from me.”
“I know.” His gaze was as warm as the firelight. “You are one of the few people I can be myself with, Xenia. All evening, when I was with the fellows, I found myself missing your company. I am glad you came to me, and I want you to know that you always can.”
His sincerity caused her heart to pitter-patter. Wordlessly, he took her hand and led her to the chesterfield. He went to pour them glasses of port, then sat beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled against him, sipped the sweet, fruity spirit, and felt much more the thing. She was grateful that the master suite was down the hall from the guest chambers, affording them some rare privacy.
“You heard about my day,” she said after they set down their glasses. “How was yours?”
His lips curved, as if he, too, appreciated being able to share a mundane moment. He told her about Rawlins’s report. Apparently, the investigator had spoken to Harlow, who denied going anywhere near Bottoms House. Rawlins had advised Ethan to leave things be for now. On a more positive note, the Hirschfield brothers had finished renovating the stables and gazebo, and Ethan had hired a groundskeeper.
“I also worked on my composition,” he said casually.
It was so like him to save the most important news for last.
“How is that going?” she asked.
“Could be better, could be worse.” He paused. “I was hoping you might assist me tomorrow. If you have time in between your duties.”
“I think my employer will allow it,” she said, smiling.
He raised his brows. “He might even give you a raise. There is a lot of work to be done.”
