Page 32 of The Right to Remain Single

“Which means he doesn’t care about the exorcism, as we suspected,” James said. “From now on, Brother Antoine, you must do as I say—or else.”

He faltered, almost dropping the blanket again. “You will denounce me as a spy?”

Thomasina shook her head. “We would never do that, but if you are involved in something illegal with Mr. Furbelow, you will have to pay the price when you are caught.”

“As you surely will be,” James said, rather enjoying himself.

Thomasina tsked. “What Mr. Blakely means is that we want to help you, but we cannot do so unless you are willing to help us first.”

“But how?”

“By continuing to obey Mr. Furbelow,” James said. “Play your part, but report to me anything he says or does that will help us understand wh—”

An unholy wail broke the stillness of the night.

Chapter Seven

Thomasina’s heart battered her chest. “That’s Max! Something has upset him. I wondered why he left in such a rush.”

The ghost shouted and railed, sending shivers down her spine—not that she would ever admit that to James.

“I’ll find out what’s going on,” James said. “As for you, Brother Antoine—”

The monk had fallen to his knees and was mumbling prayers under his breath.

“We’ll talk to him later,” Thomasina said. “I’m coming with you.” She watched James try to come up with an alternative, and fail. She couldn’t stay with the monk, nor did he intend to leave her alone in her bedchamber. “Don’t fuss. I’m safer with you than anywhere else.”

He nodded, opened the door, and peered into the dark corridor. He picked up the candle and took Thomasina by the hand, but she held back a second. “Pray for us too, Brother Antoine. The ghost would not cry out like that without good reason.”

The monk raised his head. “Oui, I shall pray. Heaven preserve us all.”

They left him there and paused in the silent corridor, listening to the blood-curdling rant. “He’s cursing the Evil One again,” James whispered. “I think it’s coming from above.”

“The tower? What would Sam be doing up there?”

A tremendous thud sounded, and the ghost’s cries grew even louder.

“He’s saying something about…his own innocence,” James said. “Saying that he didn’t do it. That he won’t take the blame again.”

“The blame for what?”

“For something he did when he was alive, I think. This afternoon, he told me that they can’t execute him again, because he’s already dead.”

“Execute him? For what?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Poor Max. We have to go see what’s wrong.” They hurried down to the ground floor, where they could access the tower stairs. As they reached the Great Hall, a string of curses broke the night…from outdoors? That was Sam’s nasal voice.

“You shouldn’t be obliged to hear that sort of language,” James said.

“I’ll consider it an education.” She followed him across the room.

The front door was half open, and a frigid wind assailed them.

“Stay back a little,” James said. “We’d best not appear to have come down together. Oh, damn—there’s Joey already.”

The footman hurried out from the servants’ quarters, sketchily clad in nightshirt and breeches and carrying a lantern. He took in their appearance without a blink, and said, “God save us, what language! Cover your ears, Miss Tommie!”