“It’s so good to see you again, Rafe,” Molly said with a laugh. “I see you’ve learned the art of flattery! The countess asked Geoffrey and me to take you in hand and make introductions.”
“And keep you from escaping,” Geoffrey added under his breath.
“I promised I’d stay for a while.” Rafe studied the young ladies who were approaching from all directions. “But not for long!”
Geoffrey and Molly escorted him to where the countess and several of her cronies were holding court. She nodded with approval and introduced Rafe to her friends, then he was turnedover to the fortune hunters with Geoffrey and Molly’s guidance and protection.
Lady Cynthia Howard swept up to him with a warm smile as if they were dear friends rather than barely acquainted. She was blonde and very beautiful, and she had perfected a way of looking past him so she didn’t have to see his scarred face. She must have been told that she giggled charmingly, because she now giggled incessantly.
Geoffrey and Molly rescued him and introduced him to some of the other guests. There were a surprising number from the neighborhood that he’d known as a boy. He enjoyed renewing old acquaintances and it gave him an excuse not to spend long speaking with any particular young lady.
Still, by the time an hour had passed, Rafe’s ability to be polite was almost entirely gone. Rescue arrived as servants entered with refreshments, followed by several musicians who began to play music suitable for dining. Later they would turn to dancing tunes, but Rafe took advantage of the bustling around him to slip out of a side door. His gaze met Geoffrey’s just before he left. His friend gave an understanding nod before he collected Molly and claimed a table for the supper.
The air in the corridor was sharply cold and relatively quiet. Hearing the door to the salon behind him start to open, Rafe bolted around a corner and headed up the stairs before any other guests could claim his attention. He was going to make a damned poor earl when it came to his social obligations.
Pausing at the top of the stairs, he heard voices below him. One was Lady Cynthia, her voice annoyed as she said, “He went this way!’”
Another female voice said worriedly, “Should we be going after him?”
“We’re house guests here, so we are certainly entitled to return to our rooms if we wish to.” Lady Cynthia’s voice turnedarch. “There’s no chance of being caught alone with him and beingcompromised!”
As the other girl giggled nervously, Rafe swore under his breath. He had to give Lady Cynthia credit for persistence, though if she thought she could trap him into offering her marriage, she was hen-witted.
A narrow table at the head of the stairs held several small lamps that guests could use to light their way to their rooms when they retired. He’d designed the lamps himself his last summer at the castle when a more traditional lamp had been dropped by a drunk and started a fire. Rafe had worked with the castle blacksmith to create a wire frame that fit around the glass chimney so if a lamp fell over, it was unlikely to start a fire. He’d always liked solving problems. His safety lamp had been much simpler than this marriage business.
He lifted a lamp and resumed climbing. The next floor had smaller bedrooms and some storage rooms, and the floor above held rooms for female servants.
He hadn’t seen anyone since leaving the salon, but for safety’s sake he continued up the last, narrow flight of stairs to the landing that held the door to the attics. As in most big old houses, the attics were a treasure trove of objects old and strange. When the weather was bad, he and other children had enjoyed exploring the trunks and boxes and old furniture. Even old musical instruments. He smiled nostalgically when he remembered long-vanished music.
Out of curiosity, he opened the attic door. His lamp illuminated a similar jumble of objects as in the past. He and the other children had moved furniture around to create mock forts so they could conduct mock battles. No wonder he’d become a soldier.
He started to close the door, thinking it wasn’t necessary to hide here to escape Lady Cynthia. In the next instant he hearda silent scream in his mind and saw a blast of light. He pivoted, swearing, “What the devil!”
Sharing the small landing was a long black cat with white paws that waved wildly as it rolled onto its back. In the process the cat transformed into an enormous ghostly feline the size of Rafe. With another silent scream, the creature leaped at him with slashing claws and danger in its burning green eyes.
Shocked, Rafe staggered backward into the attic. He tripped on something and fell hard on his back, his breath knocked out of him. A huge—transparent feline paw?—swept above his head and the door slammed shut with a solidTHUNK!His lamp had fallen on the landing when he retreated, leaving him trapped in suffocating darkness.
What the devil had thatthingbeen? He didn’t believe in ghosts, much less black ghost cats with white whiskers and feet, but he’d never been prone to hallucinations.
He scrambled to his feet, determined to return to the landing and see what was out there. He felt for the door and found the knob.
It wouldn’t open.
The door latch was simple and it shouldn’t have jammed like this, but no matter how he manipulated the knob, the door stayed closed. He was trapped in the bitter, cold darkness with wind and rain tearing at the roof directly over his head and an unknown phantom waiting just outside.
He drew a shaky breath. Perhaps he should have stayed downstairs with the husband hunters. At least he understood what they were.
Chapter Four
Outside on thelanding, the Black Rogue condensed to his usual size, brimming with delight. “I did it, I did it!” he chortled happily as he rolled across the landing, waving his white-mittened paws in the air as he stretched to his full length.
“Indeed you did, my lad.” Lady Fluff materialized beside him, not a whisker out of place. “Lord Carroll is about to meet his doom.”
Suddenly worried, the Rogue asked nervously, “He’s not going to trip over something and break his neck, is he? I actually rather like humans and he seems like a decent specimen. I’m quite fond of the book lady. She scratches my head and gives me treats.”
“What happens next is up to the earl,” her ladyship said calmly. “Now come along with me. There should be sliced chicken leftovers in the kitchen.”
Sliced chickens! The Rogue happily followed Lady Fluff downstairs.
