Definitely a governess. How on earth could he have thought she was aghost? Even by candlelight, it was clear that Miss Halliwell’s solid figure was proportioned more like a Greek goddess than like the slender, wispy lady said to haunt the Hall. Dev was not sure brandy alone could explain his mistake.
“Well, Sir Devlin, would you be so kind as to tell me where I can find the nearest railway station? Must I go all the way to York?” She bit her lip, suddenly looking less confident.
“The nearest railway station is in Thirsk,” he told her. “My coachman can take you there tomorrow, after the horses have rested.” Technically, the horses used for farmwork could havebrought her there tonight, but Wragge himself deserved a night’s sleep.
She remained silent for a moment; he could almost see her wavering. When she relented, she spoke with all the dignity of a duchess.
“Under the circumstances, I most gratefully accept your hospitality, Sir Devlin.” She cleared her throat. “I believe the tea is ready now. I should imagine we will both be the better for a cup, don’t you think?”
“Indeed,” Dev said, though he knew it would take more than tea to set him to rights.
There were only five days left before doomsday, and all his plans had failed. But there was no need to share any of that with his guest.
Chapter Three
October 28
Lucy slept soundlymost of the night, but towards morning, her dreams were invaded by creaking floorboards, echoing voices, and visions of wraiths hovering by the roadside. When soft footsteps woke her, she could not tell if the sound was real or merely part of her dream.
Her eyes flew open when a soft thump followed the footsteps. Was there someone in her room? She sat up and clutched the blanket to her chest.
“Oh, miss, I am so sorry!” The maid kneeling by the hearth looked thoroughly abashed. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to stoke the fire.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you.” Lucy’s racing heart slowed down.
It had been a long time since she’d last been woken by a housemaid on a cold morning. Neither the guestroom at the vicarage nor the room she’d been assigned when she was Miss Denney’s companion contained a fireplace. In fact, she hadn’t had a fire in her own room since she left Brambleton Manor.
“Miss? Would you be wanting your chocolate now? Or would you rather wait?”
Chocolate?Lucy had experienced shivers of apprehension, but until now, she hadn’t realized it was possible to shiver from anticipation.
“Yes, I would love a cup of chocolate.” Yesterday’s anxieties melted away in the glow of a warm fire, a cup of chocolate, and the luxury of a half-hour’s rest. When was the last time she had enjoyed a half-hour all her own?
She could not even remember.
*
After chocolate andbiscuits in bed, breakfast seemed almost superfluous. But the maid, Kitty, assumed Lucy would want to join Sir Devlin for breakfast. Lucy did not disabuse her of that notion. It would take all day to get back to Surrey, and she wanted to waste as little money as possible. The food sold at railway stations was so expensive! A hearty breakfast would go a long way to sustaining her on the journey home.
The breakfast room was like the rest of the house: clean to a shine, but a little outdated. The walls were hung with a silk pattern that had been old-fashioned even when Lucy was a girl. The only piece of furniture that looked like it had been made in her lifetime was the sideboard laden with breakfast options.
Lucy served herself buttered toast, a poached egg, and a strong cup of tea. She’d just settled down to enjoy them when Sir Devlin entered the room. Lucy’s eyes widened as she studied him. Was this really the man she met last night?
She had remembered Sir Devlin looking tall, dark-haired, and saturnine—almost satanic. It was true that he was tall, and he did have a strong aquiline nose. But by the light of day, his features looked patrician rather than diabolical.
Moreover, his hair was not, as she had thought, jet black. It was a dark brown with chestnut highlights. And he looked at least a decade younger than her estimate. His hair had not even started to gray. She guessed him to be only a few years older than herself.
“Miss Halliwell.” He nodded politely before loading up his plate. He took a chair across from her. “I hope you slept well? The ghost did not bother you, did she?” His eyes crinkled at the corners, inviting her to share his amusement.
But Lucy did not care to be made the subject of his jokes. “Ghost?” She arched her eyebrows. “I thought we established that there was no ghost at the crossroad last night.”
“Indeed.” He added a generous helping of milk to his coffee. “However, Hethersleigh Hall is said to be haunted by a ghost called the Veiled Lady. It is rare that anyone actually sees her, though. Most of the time she contents herself with opening doors, moving objects about, and making noise in the middle of the night.”
Lucy lowered her teacup. He didn’t seem to be joking. “I heard no sounds last night. Not until the maid came to stoke the fire.”
He frowned. “Which maid? Our housemaids usually know better than to disturb the family.”
“Oh no, she did nothing wrong!” She did not want Kitty to get in trouble on her account. “I am not used to having a fire in my room anymore, that is all.”
