“I should love to,” she said, “but are you sure you want to be seen with me? I am steeped in madness, after all.”
She hadn’t meant to be so cutting, but some hurts would not be locked away. Which was why she should have left when she’d had the chance.
“I like your madness. I always have.”
A lie. He liked the way she told fairy tales. She was a born storyteller and had entertained him and many others. But the moment she said ghosts were real, he’d turned tail and run. And that still hurt.
“This isn’t a good idea. We give each other nothing but pain.”
He snorted. “My parents gave us nothing but pain. We never had a problem when they weren’t around.”
Not exactly true, but close. She softened.
“I should like to hear how your family is doing,” she admitted. She’d once been friends with his younger sister.Unfortunately, she could see the growing darkness around him. The ghost was coming back, and the longer Giselle was around him, the stronger the creature would become. Strong enough—eventually—to manifest.
That was the paradox of her life. Her goal was to send the ghosts to the afterlife, but she could only do that by making them stronger in the here and now. They fed on her energy, growing more whole until she could communicate with them. Then she solved whatever was keeping them here, and they willingly passed on to the other side.
So the more she sat with Jonathan, the stronger his ghost would get. The kindest thing would be for her to leave. Eventually, his ghost would dissipate on its own. Maybe. Though given the power in this one, she doubted it.
Either way, this was Jonathan, her first love and the man she’d longed to speak with again, if only to give him a piece of her mind. Ghost or not, she wanted to talk with him. She wanted to know if and why—all those years ago—he had destroyed herself and her family.
“I can walk for a little bit.”
“I must buy the headache powder. My mother has terrible pains sometimes.”
So the ghost was torturing mother and son alike.
“I’ll wait for you,” she said. And then she grimaced at her words. Ten years ago, she had waited for him. Despite being called mad and her father losing his parish, she had believed he would be true. She’d expected a letter, if nothing else.
But none came, though she’d waited for years.
“I promise I’ll be quick.”
Another promise. She should disappear on him now. Give him a small taste of what he’d done to her. But she didn’t. That was petty.
“I’ll wait.”
Chapter Two
Jonathan’s head throbbed,but he couldn’t miss this opportunity. If ever a woman haunted him, it was her. He’d known her all his life. She was the eldest of the vicar’s daughters, the twin who’d caught his eye from the first moment she’d covered her doll with a blanket of leaves. She’d been four, and he a strapping lad of five. Given that there wasn’t much aristocratic company in their Cotswold parish, his family and the vicar’s were close.
By the time he turned sixteen, he and Giselle were very close.
Then Jonathan had made the mistake of revealing his intention to marry Giselle. That ended everything. Jonathan was sent to Scotland, and his father terminated her father’s appointment as vicar. The whole family left and Jonathan never expected to see them again, at least not happily. Indeed, he imagined that Giselle would slap him if given the opportunity since it was his fault that her family had lost everything.
But she had not attacked him, so he would apologize. Indeed, he’d waited a decade to do it and be damned to any headache that tried to stop him.
Except, it was a damnably painful headache.
He purchased the powder and turned to meet her at the door, but she was beside him.
“Take some now,” she encouraged. “I can tell you’re hurting.”
He did not like to admit weakness, much less the kind of pain his father had decried as “a woman’s nonsense.” But his head hurt, and his father could be a bloody idiot about some things.
At his quiet acknowledgement, the girl at the counter brought him some water and mixed the potion for him. He drank the brew quickly, not wincing at the taste. He was a viscount now, and a stiff upper lip was ingrained in him.
Then, like a reward, he was finally able to offer his arm to Giselle.
