“Miss Honeywell appears to have made up her mind, madam.” Gideon frowned down at the stout fingers twisting his coat sleeve. “I don’t know what you’d have me say.”
“Why, that you didn’t murder your wife, of course, and thus there’s no reason for her to haunt Darlington Castle. I’m certain the late Marchioness of Darlington has more sense than to haunt a perfectly innocent gentleman like yourself. It’s all a terrible misunderstanding.”
“I beg your pardon, madam, but I believe your daughter has made herself quite clear on that matter.” Haslemere, who’d had more than enough of Mrs. Honeywell, spoke through clenched teeth. “She believes Lord Darlington to be a murderer. Given the circumstances, I can’t think whyhe’dwish to marryher, even if she did change her mind.”
Miss Honeywell glared at Haslemere, then drew herself up stiffly. “Indeed, Mama, you waste your breath.”
Mrs. Honeywell looked between the three stony faces, and threw her hands up in the air. “You’re a great fool, Fanny, and you’ll be made to realize it soon enough when we return to London, and no one who matters will deign to speak to you. But as you say, I’ve wasted enough breath on you, and shan’t say another wordon the matter.”
With that, Mrs. Honeywell swept out the front entrance in a dramatic swirl of skirts, marched across the drive, and with her coachman’s assistance, heaved herself into the carriage. Fanny followed after her mother without a backward glance. Gideon and Haslemere trailed after them and watched as the coach rounded the curve at the end of the drive and vanished from sight.
“I’d wager my pair of matched bays Mrs. Honeywell will find she has a great deal more to say on this matter, after all.” Haslemere turned to Gideon. “What say you, Darlington?”
Gideon shrugged. “Only that I’m glad I’m not Miss Honeywell. Unless she marries a duke, her mother will be berating her for losing a marquess until she’s old and gray. Better to marry a murderous marquess than die a spinster.”
Haslemere snorted. “I can’t say I’m sorry to see them go. Miss Honeywell seems a tolerable enough young lady, but she’s rather dim, and God knows my most terrifying nightmare pales in comparisonto her mother.”
Gideon ran a hand over his jaw, thinking. “We have one fewer thing to worry about now they’re gone, but we both know Miss Honeywell didn’t imagine that ghost lingering outside her window last night.”
“That business with the moaning and pointing is more difficult to credit, especially given Miss Honeywell’s hysterical state when we reached her bedchamber. She might have imagined it.”
“No.” Gideon blew out a breath. “I don’t think she did. It’s obvious why our White Lady would want to chase off Miss Honeywell.”
“Well, she’s gone now. Perhaps that will be the end of it.”
Haslemere was doing his best to sound hopeful, but he wasn’t any more persuaded by this argument than Gideon was. Miss Honeywell’s departure wouldn’t be the end of this. They both knew it, and Gideon couldn’t allow any of his household to be put at risk. “We can’t take that chance, Haslemere. Darlington Castle has seen too much tragedy as it is.It ends here.”
“Indeed. Well, then, we’ll simply have to find your ghost, won’t we?”
Gideon glanced up into the pale gray sky. The few rays of feeble sunlight that pierced the thick cloud cover hanging over the castle turned everything a strange, eerie white. Light snowflakes drifted down, the icy pinpricks hitting Gideon’supturned face.
He turned back toward the entrance hall. “I’ll ask Mrs. Briggs to gather the servants and tell them there willbe no wedding.”
Haslemere chuckled. “They likely knew that even before you did, Darlington. Servants always know everything.”
Gideon dragged a hand down his face. It was true enough, and he’d wageroneof his servants knew more than the others. “I don’t want anyone wandering into the grounds at night until we’ve put this matter to rest.”
“What do youintend to do?”
“Make a few changes to the sleeping arrangements.” And one of his servants wasn’t going to like it.
She wasn’t going tolike it at all.
* * * *
“You’ve assigned aguardto watch my bedchamber door?” Cecilia stared up at Lord Darlington, certain she must have misunderstood him.
“Not aguard, Cecilia, a footman, and Duncan will remain in the hallway outside your bedchamber only at night. You may move about the castle as you always do during the day.”
Cecilia crossed her arms over her chest. “But I’m to be a prisoner every night, and afforded no more freedom than a criminal at Newgate.”
Very well, it was abitof an exaggeration. She didn’t believe Lord Darlington was trying to imprison her, exactly, but he was hiding something. A ghost, an undead wife, a misplaced marchioness? He was chasingsomeonethroughout thecastle grounds.
“How curious you should assume Duncan is there to keepyouin, Cecilia, rather than everyone elseout. Though now you ask,” he went on, holding up a hand for silence when she would have interrupted, “perhaps it will keep you out of trouble, as well.”
Cecilia pinched her lips together. “I don’t require Duncan lurking outside my bedchamber door to keep me out of trouble, my lord.”
“You wouldn’t think so, would you? Yet when left on your own, you turn up in the unlikeliest places. Perhaps Duncan’s presence in the hallway will discourage you from wandering about.”
