Angelica took a deep breath. “Your wife’s soul is restless, Randolph. I don’t know why, but she’s not at peace. I think—”
“What are you saying?” His voice had dropped so low she could barely hear him.
Angelica plowed ahead, undaunted. “She’s been communicating with me from the beyond. She’s—”
He shot to his feet and stepped back so abruptly he almost knocked over the chair. His eyes were wide, his expression one of stark disbelief. “Is this a joke to you? A game perhaps?”
“No. Of course not. It is a serious matter.” She struggled to sit up straighter. “Your wife—”
“Was a whore. An adulteress. An outright liar who pretended to love me when clearly she didn’t.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Randolph, something’s not right, I can feel it.”
“Oh you can, can you?” His mocking tone took her aback even though she’d known to expect it. After all, she herself had dismissed all the sounds and sensations even though she had experienced them for herself. It wasn’t until the vision that she’d allowed herself to believe. “Is it perhaps your attempt at making up stories about the impossible that seems a bit off? Ghosts don’t exist, Angelica. Shame on you for supposing I might believe such claptrap.”
The air instantly cooled. Angelica caught a swift movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head. “See that? The way the curtain is moving?”
“A draft is most likely to blame.” Annoyance dripped from every word. “Christ, what a fool I have been.”
“No. Please.” She held her hand toward him. “Randolph, you have to believe me. You have to—”
“No.” He slashed the air with his arm. “Good God, you sound just like her, begging for me to have faith in something that obviously isn’t true. Does my forehead have ‘gullible’ written upon it in big bold letters?”
“Of course not.”
His mouth flattened and his eyes hardened to shards of flint. “I want you gone,” he said with low and deadly precision. “Pack your bags and leave. Immediately.” He turned for the door.
Angelica squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. “No.”
He halted, his hand on the handle. Slowly, he turned back to face her. “You plan to defy me?”
“If necessary. Yes.” She pulled back the covers and climbed from the bed. He should not see her like this, clad only in her nightgown. It wasn’t appropriate and yet she had no choice but to go to him. “I will not leave you. Not like this. Not while you need me.”
His eyes flashed and his nostrils flared. “Never presume to know what I need.”
She tipped her chin up. “Fine.” She gave him her best glare. “But perhaps you should ask yourself if it is possible for me to go mad within a few days. Think back to our conversations, Randolph. Consider your foremost reason for having an interest in me.”
A nerve ticked in his cheek, tugging at the edge of his mouth. He stared back at her in silence until he finally said, “You speak your mind with unvarnished honesty.”
“I do not lie.”
“And yet I would be a fool to believe you.”
“You seek proof. Validation.” Her mind raced. If the roles were reversed would she believe him? Probably not. She hadn’t even believed herself until her eyes had confirmed what her mind suspected.Think. There had to be something – a piece of information she couldn’t possibly know unless she was being honest. Her mind cleared and she suddenly remembered. “Katrina was holding a letter and…” Angelica paused, tried to focus. Her brow wrinkled. “There was a ring, I believe. A gold band with leaves clasping a bright green emerald. And a scar – tiny, but visible – right between her thumb and index finger.”
“How can you know this?” His hands clasped her shoulders, shaking her slightly. Wild eyes filled with confusion bored into hers. “How can you possibly know this?”
“Because I was there. Yesterday, before the attic, for just a brief moment I was transported. I do not know how, it still seems impossible, but I was her and I was freezing to death outside while clutching a letter.”
“What did it say?” The question was slowly exhaled.
“I…” Angelica shook her head, closed her eyes, thought back. The script was a blurry haze that slowly came back into focus. “I saw what happened.” She gulped down a lungful of air. “I saw what happened. Meet me at midnight by the entrance to the east wing if you want my help.” Somehow, her hand found his. “It was signed bya friend.”
“It isn’t possible.” But his tone was different than earlier and he did not pull away from her this time. “I burned that letter myself. You cannot have seen it.”
“I know. It defies explanation.”
He stared past the side of her face, his eyes fixed on some point far in the distance. “You said you saw her.” His eyes snapped back to hers. “Last night after the attic, you told me you saw her. My wife. I thought you meant the painting but...” Incredulity pulled at his eyebrows, drawing them together until a crease appeared between them. He shook his head. “That’s not what you were referring to. Is it?
