“And I will be your wife. One who helps people and troubled spirits.”
He gaped at her. “Mama makes food baskets for the poor.”
Actually, his mother directed the servants to make the baskets.
“I can do that, too.”
He shook his head, a complete denial of everything. “You can’t say these things out loud, Giselle. People will think you are mad.”
“So long as I can say them to you, and you believe me.”
He didn’t believe her. She could see it in his face, though he was trying to hide it. Honestly, it didn’t bother her—much. According to her parents, her father had taken some time as well. But now he worked with her mom, sometimes travelling hours away to help someone.
“I won’t mention it again,” she said. “Not until I can prove it to you.”
He nodded slowly, accepting the compromise. Then he sighed.
“I really have to go, Giselle. Tea started ten minutes ago.”
“I know.” It was the Christmas holidays and there was always something to do. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is boxing day. I have to stay at home to help Mama. She hates it when the servants have the day off.”
She knew that, but they had so little time before they both went back to their schools.
“The day after, then,” she pressed.
He smiled and kissed her slowly. Then he straightened up. “The day after. I promise.”
That was the first promise he ever broke. She never saw him again. She heard from one of the maids that he had been sent back to school early. She heard other things too. Some said he was sick. Others said he got drunk, said terrible things to his father, and was now disowned.
Giselle was frantic with worry, but then she started having troubles of her own. Whispers followed her and Gwenivere. People started calling them “the troubled twins.” Stories of madness swirled around them.
And then her father lost his parish. The news came out of the blue and was devastating to their entire family.
They had to vacate the vicarage immediately. Then her father could no longer afford to send her or Gwennie to school. Same with her brothers and younger sisters. They were all summarily packed up and sent to the poorish parish in London.
Everything good in her life was abruptly gone. Her home, their money, and Jonathan. All gone. Even worse, she guessed that it was all her fault.
Chapter One
Ten years later
Giselle heard theghost long before she saw him. That was rare. She usually heard only the strongest, most violent ghosts. No words, but the tone was clear enough. Anger, frustration, and arrogance trussed up as righteous fury.
Likely, it was saying something like, “Listen to me! What is wrong with you? You’re an idiot!”
Each wail pushed pain into her awareness before fading out. And each time she thought it was over, another furious blast would come at her again.
Goodness, this was one angry ghost. The only saving grace was that she was not the target of its fury. She received the leftover emotion, like the eddies in a stream after the main current rushed past.
Her one question—and she really didn’t want to know—was who stood in the eye of this storm? What poor unfortunate was dead center of the ghost’s attention?
Against her will, she looked up to see.
There.A well-dressed gentleman rubbing his temples as if…well, as if he was under assault from an unseen foe. Which he was.
None of her business. If she responded to every haunted soul in London, she’d have no time for anything else.
