Page 31 of The Right to Remain Single

“Impropriety is the least of your problems right now,” James said. “I thought I had seen you before, and now I remember where—at Sadler’s Wells.”

The monk paled. He began to shiver, and Thomasina moved forward. “Don’t you have a dressing gown? It’s frightfully cold in here.” She took the coverlet from the bed and gave it to him.

He clutched it around himself. “In a monastery, one becomes accustomed to the cold.”

James huffed, but she put up a hand. “So you truly are a monk?”

“I was, but they closed the monasteries during the Revolution and forced us to marry, which for me was a relief. I was not suited to the life of a monk. My wife and I came to England, and we found work on the stage. If it were not for her, I would not have come here with Mr. Furbelow.”

“I suppose he threatened you.” Thomasina writhed with disgust at her cousin’s infamy. “Or threatened your wife.”

“Both.” Brother Antoine still shivered, huddling in the coverlet. “He said if I did not do as he asked, he would denounce us as French spies. If it had been only me, I would have told him to go to the devil, but I love my wife, and—” His voice caught on a sob. “You are good people. You love one another, no? You understand how it is.”

James blew out a breath. It was too soon to mention love between him and Thomasina. Meanwhile, Max grinned and nodded. James ground his teeth.

“Yes, of course we understand,” Thomasina said, startling him, until his commonsense took over. She didn’t have to be in love with him to understand that Antoine loved his wife.

“I am sorry. I should not have come,” the monk said, “and now you have found me out, and Mr. Furbelow will take his revenge.”

“Calm down, Brother Antoine,” James said. “We don’t wish you any harm, and I shall do my best to ensure that Furbelow does no such thing—as long as you help us. You must tell us why he brought you here.”

The monk spread his hands, dropping the coverlet. He pulled it around himself again. “To play the part of a monk, which naturellement is not difficult for me. To prepare for an exorcism. To perform it if necessary.”

“You know how to do an exorcism?” asked Thomasina.

He shrugged under the coverlet. “I saw it done once, long ago. But I doubt I would succeed. I do not possess the spiritual power to withstand such an evil spirit.” He gulped. “I am not a good man.”

James hoped his tender-hearted Thomasina remembered that this man was an actor—and a good one, from his recollection of the play he’d seen at Sadler’s Wells. He was trying to decide what to believe when Max suddenly stood to attention. He snarled low in his throat and dashed through the wall.

“What was that?” Brother Antoine whispered.

“Just the ghost,” James said.

The monk looked wildly about. “Wh-where?”

“He’s gone now.” James listened hard, but heard no disturbance.

“The evil spirit was in my bedchamber?” the monk cried.

“I’m getting sick and tired of saying over and over again that Max is not evil,” said Thomasina.

“Mais—”

“If you are an honest man, he won’t harm you,” she said. “He was watching you say your prayers when we arrived. But he didn’t try to frighten you, did he? He gave you no sign that he was here.”

The monk shuddered. “I cannot even pray in privacy anymore.”

“Forget the ghost for now. If you are an honest man,” James repeated grimly, “you will tell us why Furbelow really brought you here.”

“But I did tell you,” Brother Antoine protested. “To play the part of a monk.”

“That’s not the only reason,” James said. “The reward for exorcising the ghost isn’t anywhere near as much as Furbelow needs to pay his debts. He has something else in mind. Something underhanded.”

“He’s that sort of person,” Thomasina said with a rueful nod. “As a boy, he played horrid tricks on the servants, getting them blamed for torn sheets and breakages and such.”

The monk slumped. “Mais oui, he is a bad man, but he told me nothing—only that I must obey him. I must say that the ghost is an evil spirit, for which I beg your pardon, but he seems evil to me. I must say I will pray to prepare myself, but I must not exorcise until Christmas is over, and perhaps longer. He will tell me when it is time.” He shrugged unhappily. “I do not know why. I told him I may not succeed, but he said it does not matter—just do my best.”

“That doesn’t sound like Sam,” Thomasina said. “He would say succeed, or else.”