With you, it would actually be true.
She stared back at him, speechless…and more than a little relieved her rakehell wasn’t in top form. If he were, she might not have been strong enough to resist him.
Chapter 5
After taking a late supper alone in her bedchamber, Rebecca gathered the estate journals she was supposed to return to the earl’s office and headed to the library instead. The new Lord Banfield had left to fetch his family, which meant little time remained before Rebecca’s autonomy was gone forever.
She settled into a chaise longue before the fire, with the stack of ledgers and her portable writing desk. After all this time, there was little left to audit, but she wanted to ensure the new earl began with the cleanest figures possible.
So immersed was she in the tallying of numbers that it took several long moments for her nose to register a sudden waft of sweet chocolate upon the air.
Rebecca glanced over her shoulder and nearly upset a dram of ink to discover Daniel standing just inside the door with two steaming mugs of hot, fresh chocolate.
She touched a hand to her racing heart. “Your skulking almost frightened me to death.”
“Plain sight isn’t skulking,” he corrected as he joined her before the fire. “If you wish to see skulking, keep an eye on the servants in this castle. Oh, that’s right, one can never quite spot them amongst the dark nooks and crannies. Because they’re too busy skulking.”
She grinned behind the steamy rim of her hot chocolate. “Such wild fancy, Lord Stonebury. No one skulks about Crowmere Castle but the ghosts.”
He gave a shiver that didn’t appear entirely fabricated. His eyes pierced her. “How can you live here, knowing all the awful things that have happened? So many deaths. The previous countess, her child, all of the tragedies that befell her ancestors… Does it not alarm you?”
“It’s shocking,” she conceded, “but the idea of a curse has never scared me. Nor should it worry you. We share the distinct advantage of not being blood related to the original owners.”
He didn’t look convinced. “From what I understand, not all of the spirits haunting the castle were members of the family.”
“No, but in those cases their deaths were caused by a member of that family, which bound them to the castle.” Rebecca sipped her chocolate. “In any case, I shan’t be under this roof much longer. As long as I replace these journals before the new earl returns, he’ll have no reason to murder me.”
Clearly unamused, Daniel cut her a flat look. “Your jests lack humor.”
“There you go again, filling my head with pretty flattery. No wonder you’ve cut a swath through London.”
“And I am shocked you’ve no one left to flirt with,” he muttered into his chocolate.
She smiled to herself. She really ought not to nettle him so. Now that he was in possession of a title and a profitable estate, the poor viscount was as likely out of practice in a battle of wits as she was in the art of coquetry.
What little she’d seen of him in London had been more than enough to illuminate the vast sea of sycophants who dogged his every step. Rebecca, on the other hand, often went weeks or months without conversation at all. Not even with the servants.
Daniel was right. They did tend to skulk.
“Why do you have Banfield’s journals?” Daniel asked presently.
She straightened her spine. “The steward who kept them was either careless or completely unsuited for the task. I’m half certain his figures come from guesses rather than sums.”
He leaned forward. “What do you do when you find an error?”
“I leave a note protruding from the affected page. Until recently, the steward thought the ledgers were being haunted by a mathematically inclined spirit, thus he took care to correct his mistakes posthaste.”
Daniel grinned at her. “Can you imagine if the Crowmere curse meant a lifetime of mathematics?”
“Ilikemathematics.”
“Fair enough.” He cleared his throat. “And now?”
“Now,” she said with a sigh, “he realizes ’twas nothing more supernatural than a bluestocking with a head for figures. Women, apparently, are less trustworthy than ghosts. I’ve no doubt my notes will henceforth be tossed directly into the fire.”
“You can’t blame the poor chap,” Daniel said with a straight face. “Restless spirits have a long history of coming back from the dead out of an otherworldly compulsion to tally other people’s sums. But who’s ever heard of a woman with a head for figures?”
Rebecca tossed a cushion at his head. “Beast.”
