They came to no conclusions. Still caught in a newfound wonder, they agreed to keep the incident to themselves. Finn escorted Camellia all the way to her bedroom door, and she kept closer by him than courtesy dictated. She was still overflowing with questions for him, both about the ghost and his kiss. But it was long past midnight, and she suddenly recalled how bold her behavior was. Finn must have recalled himself too, since he said he didn’t dare stay with her any longer.
Camellia wondered if he intended to kiss her again, but he did no such thing. Instead, he merely looked at her as if he was memorizing her whole being. He asked, “Will you be all right alone? I could send for Mrs Bloomfield to join you on some pretext.”
“No, I’ll be fine.” She paused. “Will you be all right?”
“I probably won’t sleep,” he admitted. “I don’t sleep when I have too much on my mind…and I have a lot on my mind at the moment.”
“We should talk in the morning, then.” She stepped back, uncertain. Part of her yearned for another kiss, and another part of her was scandalized by the thought.
“Good night…Camellia.”
She blushed like a schoolgirl when she said, “Good night, Finn.”
Once Lia was safely in her room for the night, she forgot the more frightening aspects of the encounter, and instead relived the delicious strangeness of seeing the ghost, appearing right after Finn kissed her…
She blushed, thinking of it. She should have been quite upset. She should have slapped him, or protested. But instead, she only wished she had a reason to ask him to do it again.
He didn’t want her to have a sensible marriage, he said. But surely he wasn’t suggesting that he wanted to marry her. She’d heard him tell Mrs Bloomfield he wouldn’t marry any woman who’d have him. But that was before he… Camellia blushed. Was it possible she’d fallen in love with him, just because of a kiss?
Oh, it had happened before the kiss, she realized. Long before.
* * * *
Finn found himself surprisingly cheerful as he woke up the next morning. He had no reason to be. He’d barely slept, driven by thoughts both upsetting and divine. Yes, he’d seen one of the ghosts he knew were still lurking here. No, it wasn’t the ghost he needed to see. Yes, he had kissed Camellia and discovered that not only was she not enraged by his boldness, she was equally bold in her response. But it wasn’t as if they’d reached any sort of understanding. He was still as poor as he was yesterday, and as unsuitable a suitor as before. Indeed, the lady would be foolish to expect anything good to come of such indiscretion. She should avoid him.
And yet…Finn smiled as he started to shave. If Camellia cared for him, believed in him, perhaps he wasn’t hopeless. Perhaps he had a future beyond a slow spiral into ruin. A way up. Tonight at the Fitzgeralds’ ball, he could dance with her and talk more about the future. He was due for a Christmas miracle.
He couldn’t say he had a plan. Not yet. But he could form a plan, if he had the hope of Camellia at the end of it. If she could be persuaded to wait for him… He broke off. She hadn’t sounded patient when she first spoke of marrying. She mentioned something about needing to find a husband quickly.
A knock at the door stopped his musings. He called out for the person to enter. Elliot strode in, looking dapper in a burgundy velvet waistcoat and a snowy-white cravat.
“Morning, old man,” Finn said, grinning at him. “Afraid you caught me rather early.” He went to the bowl again to continue his shave.
Elliot walked to the window and looked out. “It’s a beautiful morning. The weather should hold for all the local guests coming tonight.” He turned. “You’ve talked to Miss Swift these past few days, correct? You found her to be pleasant? Approachable? Suitable?”
“Oh, yes.” Finn wondered what he was getting at.
“I am glad,” Elliot went on, continuing to stare out at the valley below the castle, where the fields were blanketed in white. “I worried a little, you know.”
“About what?”
“That you would think she wasn’t right.”
“Right? Of course she’s right.”
“Father was onto something after all, when he said you’re a good man.”
“Well, that’s nice to hear, certainly.” Finn frowned. He was losing the thread of this conversation. He needed coffee, first of all. Elliot had shown some heretofore unknown gift for conversation during this visit, but today wasn’t a good example. “I didn’t want to see you make a poor choice, after all.”
Elliot turned and smiled at him. “And with Miss Swift, I won’t.”
Finn blinked. Elliot’s expression was so proud, so confident. He wondered if something had gone terribly wrong at some point last night. What if he hadn’t seen the ghost with Camellia? What if he’d gone drinking with the gentlemen instead? That would explain why nothing made sense this morning. “Say again?”
“Miss Swift,” Elliot repeated. “You verified she would be a suitable match, and I shall see she accepts my proposal. Not that I’ll tender it during this trip, of course. I must see her parents in London first.”
“London?” Finn echoed. What did Elliot mean, proposal?
“Well, it would be quite out of turn to propose formally before getting permission. But surely I can court her immediately.”
