So she turned back to the counter at My lady’s Apothecary, waited until Madame Ille herself came to speak with her, and then began to trade with the lady.
That was, after all, Giselle’s business. Her father prayed over the components Madame used so she could claim everything inside was blessed by a vicar. That, in turn, kept Giselle’s large family alive.
Thankfully, there’d been no new babies at home since moving to London. She knew now that was thanks to a tart teaching Mama about French letters. That was one benefit of serving London’s most wretched flock. Nevertheless, the family she had needed to eat, and so Giselle sold her father’s blessings to whomever might pay.
It wasn’t until she turned around to leave that she saw the gentleman again. His body was almost fully obscured by the ghost, but his face was clear, most especially his eyes.
She knew those eyes. Only one person had such beautifully piercing gray eyes. Neither colored nor dark, she’d once thought he could see things others could not. And that just showed what an idiot she’d been.
Then some cursed impulse had her blurting out his name.
“Jonathan! What are you doing here?”
He looked up and his eyes widened. She saw him sweep her face and body, and she instinctively recoiled. She was a long way from that open girl he’d known at sixteen. And yet, he still recognized her.
“Giselle,” he said, in a soft tone. But that was as far as he got before the ghost began screaming in the way of all angry children throwing a tantrum.
“Quit wailing like a child!” she snapped, much louder than she intended. Given that no one else could hear the ghost’s complaints—only feel them in a pounding of the temples—that was a rude thing to say.
Fortunately, it worked. The ghost turned its attention to her, lunged forward, then abruptly disappeared.
She stood firm. She’d learned that ghosts couldn’t touch her if she kept herself calm. So when it went for her, she merely stood tall. She felt bitter cold wash through her before it disappeared along with all its sound and fury.
She released a quick breath, grateful for the silence, only to look straight into Jonathan’s startled gray eyes.
Oh dear. What had she said?
“I apologize,” she scrambled. “I—I wasn’t speaking to you. My thoughts…my imagination, you know. Always runs away with me.”
“I remember,” he said, his expression shifting from confusion to nostalgia. “You still speak to yourself then.”
“I’m afraid so,” she said, feeling her cheeks burn.
Desperate to be away before the ghost came back, she pulled out a bright smile and gestured to the counter. “They have an excellent headache powder here that should help.” Until the ghost came back.
She stepped to the side only to have him stop her with a touch on her elbow. “How did you know I am here for headache medicine?”
“You were rubbing your temples. You only did that with Greek or when you had a headache.”
He nodded, his expression again carefully blanked. “Hmmm,” he said.
Oh dear. He’d always known when she was lying. Which meant it was time for her to escape.
“I must be off, Lord Jonathan. I hope you and your family are well.” She said it even though she knew it wouldn’t be true. No one endured that level of haunting without terrible problems.
“It’s Viscount Chastleton now,” he said. “My father passed away a year ago.”
Oh yes. She’d heard the news at the time. A heart attack, she’d heard, though he’d had a hacking cough for months. Either way, his son had always been ‘Jonathan’ to her. Except now, when he apparently expected deference.
“My apologies, my lord,” she said, dipping her chin, though she refused to bend her knees to him.
He winced. “That’s not what I meant.” Then he sighed. “Do you have some time, Miss Wellard? It’s a beautiful day. I should like to take a walk with you.”
Oh, how his voice brought back memories. Rich tones, kindly voice. It resonated with a place deep inside her. Like calling to like, perhaps? Except they were not alike, so she ought to say no. She ought to rush home with her coins and never think of him again. Old loves were best forgotten.
“Please, Giselle. Just a walk.”
She could never say no to him. Not when he spoke so earnestly.
