The White Lady’s got Cecilia trapped…
But there was no White Lady. She was an illusion, a ghost born from a rumor, the rumor born from lies, lies told by those who didn’t understand the truth could be far uglier than the worst thing their imaginationscould conjure.
He’d known Leanora would come back, despite her promises to stay away. From the moment she first set foot in Darlington Castle she’d been unpredictable, selfish, and vindictive, and she’d only grown more bitter and resentful with each year that passed. He’d known she’d stay away only as long as it suited her to do so, and not amoment longer.
How had she found her way into the castle? Had she been wandering his hallways all this time? All these nights he and Haslemere had spent searching the grounds, hour upon hour roaming the darkness—had it been afool’s errand?
Gideon raised a shaking hand to his face, trying not to think about the damage Leanora could have done while he’d been out chasing her ghost.
He slowed his steps to a crawl when he reached the second floor landing and crept silently down the corridor. The stench of burning—of a life going up in flames grew stronger as he neared Cassandra’s bedchamber. Wisps of smoke were drifting from the narrow crack under the door, and he heardfemale voices.
One was Cecilia’s. The other…
It had been months since Gideon had heard it, but he knew that chilly voice, the sharp edges of it that cut like broken glass. Leanora had ruined Nathanial with that voice—chased him from Kent back to London. Even then he hadn’t truly escaped her, and now…
Now she’d turnedit on Cecilia.
Gideon’s hands fisted with the effort it took not to crash through the door and throw himself between Cecilia and Leanora, but he had no idea what was happening inside that bedchamber. If he startled Leanora, it might lead to disaster. So, instead he crept to his own bedchamber, then through the connecting door into Isabella and Cecilia’s room.
The haze of smoke was thicker here, and there was an ominous crackling sound coming from the other side of the door, as if flames were licking up the drapes or burning through the carpet.
And above it, Cecilia’s voice, threaded with panic.
The door between the two rooms should have been locked, but the latch turned easily in Gideon’s hand. He eased it open, just a crack at first, then wider, wide enough for him to slip through, and…
He froze on the threshold, panic swelling in his chest.
The coverlet spread over the bed was on fire, and the heavy silk window drapes were smoldering. If the walls hadn’t been made of stone, the bits of charred silk and the showers of sparks raining down would have set them ablaze already, and there would have been nothing left of the bedchamber. Even now, if a stray spark should catch the bed hangings, it would only be a matter of time before the carved wooden posts went up in flames.
In the middle of this nightmare stood Cecilia, the hems of her work dress scorched and ragged, as if she’d been stomping down flames. Facing her, dressed in a white gown and wig, her face painted a ghastly white stood Leanora, waving a candle in her hand threateningly, as if she were about to hurl it onto the bed.
Both women noticed him atthe same time.
“Gideon.” Cecilia took a quick step toward him.
He’d never seen her so pale, and her fear tore at his heart, but he turned all his attention on Leanora, circling her warily. “Back so soon, Leanora? I’m surprised to see you here again.”
Leanora threw her head back in a laugh. “Come now, Gideon. We’re old friends, aren’t we? You knew I’d return to Darlington Castle to take back what’s mine. Why pretend otherwise?”
“What’syours? I don’t know what you mean.” Gideon edged closer, one cautious step at a time, his body tensed to spring. “Don’t you remember, Leanora? You gave Isabella up to me in exchange for thousands of pounds and your freedom. She’s no longer yours. If you think you’re going to claim her now, you’re verymuch mistaken.”
“Isabella?” Leanora waved a hand, as if Isabella were an insect she was swatting away. “Isabella is of no use to me. A daughter does me no good, and we both know she isn’t Nathanial’s child.”
Cecilia choked on a gasp, but Gideon kept his gaze on Leanora, fury and fear burning through him. “You don’t deserve Isabella, Leanora.You never did.”
“No, I deserve a great dealbetterthan her! I was the belle of my season. Not a single young lady in London could compare to me. I should have hadeverything, but instead I was cursed with a husband who couldn’t father an heir! Nathanial was never going to give me a son, but you can make up for your brother’sshortcomings.”
“Is this a seduction, then?” Gideon let out a mocking laugh, his gaze darting between Leanora’s face and the candle in her hand. “I can’t say I’m much tempted. What’s become of the Marquess of Aviemore, Leanora? Does he approve of his betrothed attempting to seduce her brother-in-law?”
Leanora paled at mention of Aviemore. “Aviemore hasn’t anything to do with it.Myson will be thefuture heir of the Darlington title and fortunes.Mine. not Cassandra’s, not Fanny Honeywell’s, and not your housemaid’s, no matter if you are fool enoughto marry her.”
Gideon slowly shook his head. “It’s too late, Leanora. Nathanial is gone, and you’re no longer the Marchionessof Darlington.”
Leanora laughed again, a high-pitched, feral shriek. “Oh, but I will be again. You and I will wed, andourson will inherit the title and fortunes. Yours, and mine.”
“Wed?” Gideon stared at her in shock. Leanora’s sanity had always been tenuous, and now her last shred of reason had fled. “You and I willnevermarry, Leanora. It would be blasphemy for you to wed your late husband’s brother.”
Leanora’s blue eyes, still so beautiful, burned with madness. “I deserve a husband who can give me a son. I don’t care which Darlington brother fathers the heir, as long as he’smyson.”
