Cordelia understood why he’d asked for her assistance as he did not know the villagers, but why was he alone? Did he fear that Miss Perkins was in danger as well? The dangerwasto someone he cared for.
Cordelia wanted to ask, but dare she?
Oh, blast! “Why didn’t Miss Perkins accompany you? I’m certain she would enjoy visiting the village.”
Bentford glanced down. “Might I confide in you, again?”
“Of course.”
“Miss Perkins is visiting at my mother’s request.”
“Oh, I thought she was your guest,” Cordelia stated. She had seen the woman pressed against him.
“My mother is matchmaking, and I wish no part in their schemes.”
Nothing could have made Cordelia happier, but she didn’t let on. Bentford had no interest in Miss Perkins, and he’d asked Cordelia to accompany him into Bocka Morrow. Not that it meant anything since she was a neighbor, but it still made her happy.
He glanced around then leaned close. “It appears neither one of us is safe from meddling witches,” he chuckled.
“Then we should avoidThe Hourglassor Brighid will be convinced she was correct.” She laughed, though in truth, Cordelia did wish that Bentford had an interest in her, but he gave no indication that she was anything more than a neighbor, helper to his niece and someone to accompany him into Bocka Morrow.
“What is your sister doing now?” Bentford asked with concern as they neared Castle Keyvnor.
Cordelia blew out a sigh. “Likely speaking with a ghost,” she answered as she watched Adriana carry on an animated conversation with a stone wall.
“Are you certain?” Bentford questioned in a grave, concerned voice. “I see nothing.”
“Nor do I,” Cordelia admitted. “However, Adriana sees all. She has since she was a child and accepts the existence of ghosts without question.”
Bentford simply blinked at her as if he thought she’d lost her mind. “Perhaps she may be a bit too fanciful,” he mumbled.
“Are you concerned my sister belongs in Bedlam and how her friendship may influence your sister?” Cordelia wasn’t certain if she was intrigued or irritated. “Need I remind you that you come from a family of witches and therefore should not be casting judgment on others for believing in and seeing ghosts and mermaids?”
He cleared his throat as his cheeks colored slightly. “Yes, of course.” Bentford pulled at his cravat. “It’s just that I’ve known of witches my entire life. The other, well, it was dismissed by others, so I dismissed the possibility as well. Though I have heard rumors of Castle Keyvnor ghosts.”
“Have these ‘others’ been to Bocka Morrow?” she asked.
“I don’t believe so. At least it has never come up in conversation.”
“They likely don’t know that your mother is a witch either.”
The reddish hue of his cheeks deepened.
“I had not considered who was providing me with such information.” He glanced over at the old stone castle as they passed. “They say it is filled with ghosts. Is that true or a fabrication?”
“Most believe there are at least two or three dozen, maybe more.”
“Why so many?” he asked in stunned surprise.
Cordelia shrugged. “Perhaps they enjoy Bocka Morrow and living by the sea too much to risk what is beyond.” She whispered the last word in a teasing manner.
Adriana was still speaking with the ghost as they passed and Cordelia would be quite happy to leave her behind and therefore did not call to her as they turned down the hill toward the village.
“Benedict sends his regards,” Adriana called as she caught up to them.
“Benedict?” Bentford questioned.
“Benedict Nankervis,” Cordelia answered. “He was a troubadour and beheaded by King Henry the VIII for serenading the wrong queen,” she grinned up at him.
