“I do,” Lord Heath interrupted. “It is whatever has upset you, isn’t it? This has nothing to do with the prince. It’s why you appeared so lackluster today.”
Lackluster? “I’m sorry I did not measure up,” she snapped.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Lord Heath countered. He crossed the room to stand directly before her. With slow movements, he cupped her elbows, drawing her close until they were face to face. He was taller, but it was the gentleness with which he surrounded her that broke her reserve.
“It is the nightmares,” she whispered.
“Nightmares!” the countess exclaimed. “She woke the entire house screaming again.”
Sadie felt her face heat with embarrassment. “It is nothing!”
“No,” the countess said as she rose to her feet. “No, it is definitely not nothing. But since you have chosen not to share the full details of your Lady Vengeance antics with me, I shall leave the two of you to discuss them in private. Whatever it is that causes these dreams, you must figure it out and end them. I cannot have my sleep disrupted again. It will surely affect my health.”
Lord Heath turned to her in surprise. “You are leaving us? Alone?”
The lady slowed her steps and looked frankly at him. “I have come to understand that it is useless to treat Miss Allen like any other debutante. She is unusual, like my Gwen. She knows her own mind and can defend herself adequately should you cross the line. She is Lady Vengeance, after all.”
“But—”
“Do you need a chaperone to act honorably?”
Lord Heath straightened. “Of course not.”
“Exactly,” said the countess. Then she looked at Sadie. “I am going to bed. If he does anything untoward, kick him somewhere painful.” And with that, the lady swept from the room, shutting the door behind her.
Chapter Eight
Heath heard thedoor shut and knew he was in trouble. He’d been drinking this evening while waiting for the countess and Miss Allen to return home from the ball. After a neat flask of brandy to keep away the cold, he stood here alone with the woman who had refused to leave his thoughts.
Nevertheless, he made a herculean effort and resolved to behave as a gentleman. With a slow step backwards, he released Miss Allen.
“Will you tell me about these nightmares?”
She looked away, her cheeks heating.
“Are these the ones in which I was harmed?”
She nodded, a bare dip of her chin.
“And what harmed me?”
“A banshee,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“A banshee,” he echoed, trying to place the word in his memory. Was that a Scottish spirit of death?
She looked up. “Make fun all you want, but that’s what I dreamed.”
“I am not making fun,” he said. “It must have been terrifying for you, if you woke screaming.”
“She called me traitor and betrayer. She named you Sassenach and she… she…”
“Killed me.”
“Shredded you before my eyes.” The woman visibly shuddered. “It was awful.”
His fingers itched to touch her, but she wouldn’t accept it now. Her shoulders were too stiff. “A banshee is a vengeance spirit?”
“Vengeance, foreteller of death, or just an evil spirit, the tales aren’t clear. In my dream, she was punishing.”
