Lord Willoughby hovered nearby, ostensibly reading a book.
The two of them looked up when the butler announced him.
“Lord Sterling.” Willoughby snapped his book shut. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Willoughby’s words were polite, but he didn’t entirely look pleased to see him.
“I have a favor to ask,” he replied. “You’re not going to like it, but we may have an answer to her ladyship’s mysterious affliction.”
The color drained out of Willoughby’s skin, but he nodded. “What do we have to do?”
By the time Sterling arrived at the church with the Willoughby’s, Edwina had managed to talk Father Marlowe into allowing her to desecrate the ancient stone of the chancel and vestry with paint.
It wasn’t as foolproof as chiseling a ring into the tiled floor, but it was all the priest and sexton would concede and it would have to do.
Lord and Lady Willoughby hesitantly ducked beneath the lintel, the lady slowly lowering her ink-colored hood from her flaxen hair. Sterling appeared right behind them, towering over Lord Willoughby.
“My word,” Willoughby muttered, staring at the circle she’d drawn on the church floor in order to contain the sorcerous energy they’d need. A pentagram would have been better, but she wasn’t going to push her luck.
“Pink?” Sterling looked aghast. “Pink paint?”
“It was the only tin I could find,” she told him. “The innkeeper painted his daughter’s room last month.” She smiled at Lady Willoughby. “And I thought it might prove cheerful. We’re going to banish this evil spirit if it’s the last thing that we do, so that Lord and Lady Willoughby can return to their lives.”
“Can’t we simply lock the ring away?” Willoughby didn’t look very convinced.
“The problem is that cursed objects tend to feed upon their host once they’ve been given a chance to bond,” she gently explained. “Perhaps we might be able to negate the link. But then the ring would need to be sealed in a lead-lined box, and buried deep in a hole beneath concrete, with spells of protection woven over it. Their magic doesn’t fade over time, and it would spend the next couple of decades trying to find a way back to Lady Willoughby.”
“And that’s, of course, only if some adventurous treasure hunter doesn’t hear tales of a cursed ring and come to try his luck. Or someone building a house over the curse-trap within a decade or two,” Sterling muttered. “Then it’s nightmares for the family, the lady of the house sleepwalking, or little Timmy trying to dig through the cellar at night with no idea why. We’ve had a devil of a time keeping objects of power restrained in the past.”
She smiled weakly. Lord Willoughby looked as white as a ghost himself. “The soul bound to the ring is very hungry, and they tend to exert enormous emotional energy upon those within their circumference. Depending upon the strength of this one, it may be able to haunt the entire village. I’m actually surprised that it didn’t impact your grandmother further.”
Her words seemed to break his trance. “I think she locked it away with the rest of the family jewels upon grandfather’s death. It reminded her of him, she said, and only brought pain.”
Pain. Or perhaps the curse’s influence.
And then, years later, Lord Willoughby had gone searching for a ring for his beautiful new bride—one to honor the woman he adored. And there it was. A sparkling diamond. A sentimental heirloom.
And no doubt the curse wanted very desperately to find a new victim to feed upon.
He wouldn’t have even felt its influence.
“Willoughby,” the lady whispered, touching his arm. “I just want it gone. Please.”
Willoughby finally sighed. “Fine. Destroy it. Or whatever you plan on doing.”
“We’ll need the ring,” Edwina said, holding out her palm. “And then you’ll need to return Lady Willoughby to the manor and let her rest within a circle of salt. When we break the binding, it may lash back upon her, and she’ll likely be unwell for several days.”
“It won’t harm her, will it?”
“No, no.” Sterling clapped his hand on the lord’s shoulder. “I’m very experienced in these matters and Edwina’s cast the protective circle perfectly.”
They all looked at the pink ring on the flagstones.
“Here,” Lady Willoughby said, removing the ring and placing it on Edwina’s gloved palm. “I never want to see the blasted thing again.”
Chapter
Eight
