Her mother’s expression turned serious. “Will you be happy with him if you marry?”
“I believe so. Yes.”
“So then the matter that has been troubling you has been put to rest?”
“Not exactly,” Angelica confessed, “but we are tackling it together and in the end, I believe all will be well.” It was what she had to believe because the idea of being haunted by Lady Sterling’s ghost for the rest of her life wasn’t one she could accept.
Rose’s concern was evident in her tight-knit frown. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.” Angelica even managed a smile in an effort to put her at ease.
“Then I wish you a good night as well for I am verily exhausted.” She gave Angelica a hug before ushering her back toward her own room. “Your future is brighter than ever before, my darling, and while I know my opinion is biased, I think you will make a splendid viscountess.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
Rose nodded. “You father would have been incredibly proud.”
Angelica’s eyes misted and the smile she’d been wearing wobbled a little. She embraced her mother once more before stepping back into her own room. The connecting door closed with a gentle click. Yawning, she rang for a maid to help her undress, then went to work on her hairpins. No more than half an hour later, she was in bed, sinking into blissful oblivion.
* * *
As difficult as it was for Randolph to believe what Angelica told him, he could not dismiss the evidence. For one thing, there was the letter. No one besides him, Katrina, and the person who’d penned it had seen it. He’d made sure of that.
And if that weren’t enough, there was the uncommon chill affecting Angelica each time she sensed a presence. He could see it even though he himself was immune.
Standing by the fireplace in his bedchamber, he stared into the leaping flames and wondered why Katrina had chosen Angelica. Because of the room? Because her mind was more open to the impossible? Or because she was the only woman who held his interest?
His skin rippled with sudden unease. What if Katrina was jealous? Her unfaithfulness would suggest she did not care about him or what he did, but what if that wasn’t true? Or what if she’d come to punish him for his part in her death? Could a ghost harm a living person and if so, did she have ill will toward Angelica?
Christ, he was going to go mad with all of these unanswerable questions.
A brandy. That was what he needed to calm himself. He’d seen Angelica to her bedchamber. If anything happened during the night, surely her mother would hear.
Somewhat appeased by this rationalization, he poured himself a drink. The ball had gone well and tomorrow he would begin the second part of his courtship. An electric thrill buzzed through him. He could scarcely wait to spend more time with Angelica.
* * *
Something wasn’t right. She wasn’t alone in her bed. In fact… Angelica reached out and touched the warm body beside her. No. This was all wrong. She sat and a lock of red hair fell over her shoulder. Trembling, she stared at her hands in the morning light. An emerald ring gleamed like a frost-covered clover.
Turning, she considered the man who still slept. It was Marcus, the head groom, but what on earth was he doing there and why was he naked? She considered calling Randolph, but hesitated. She remembered nothing from last night’s events. What if… Dear God. What if… Her vision blurred only to refocus on a letter. Someone had slipped it under her door and… She remembered Randolph’s anger. The words he’d spoken had been unkind – brutal and hateful – but who could blame him? For all he knew she’d betrayed him with Marcus.
A piercing pain cut through her breast. She stared at the letter.
I saw what happened. Meet me at midnight, by the entrance to the east wing if you want my help – a friend.
Of course she wanted help. She loved Randolph and would do anything in her power to make this right – to make him see she was innocent of any wrongdoing. Somebody hateful had obviously gone to great lengths to discredit her in his eyes. But who?
Unsure, she decided to keep the appointment. After all, her bags were already packed. She would be leaving for Fennly House in the morning. Once she did so, her marriage would be as good as over, so what did she have to lose?
The question jarred Angelica’s brain as she awoke, startled by the reality of the dream she’d just had. It had been so vivid and clear, she actually found herself searching her bed for the man who’d been in it. Relief steadied her thunderous heartbeats as she came more fully awake and aware of what had transpired. She’d been Lady Sterling again. She’d felt her almost sluggish confusion upon discovering Marcus in her bed and her painful distress later, when Randolph hadn’t believed anything she said.
Angelica blinked.
She couldn’t dismiss what her recent experience suggested – that maybe the late Lady Sterling had not been the unfaithful wife she had seemed.
* * *
Three days later, Angelica was having tea outside with her mother and Randolph when he asked if she’d like to take a turn of the garden with him.
