Page 33 of The Right to Remain Single

Thomasina managed not to roll her eyes. James peered out the front door, then opened it wide.

Sam stood in a whirl of falling snow, shaking his fist. “Bloody devil of a ghost! Try to kill me, will you? Up to your old tricks, but they won’t work on me.” He glanced at the three in the doorway, then pointed. “Look what he did.” A broken block of stone lay on the ground near his feet. It had annihilated a rhododendron bush.

Above, Max howled with rage.

Mrs. Day bustled into the Great Hall and came up behind them. “Whatever is going on?”

“A stone fell from the parapet, and Cousin Sam blames Max,” Thomasina said.

James huffed. “Max is a ghost. He can’t push a stone off the tower.” He called out something in Latin, and Max quieted immediately. “I told him we know he’s innocent,” he whispered to Thomasina.

Sam swore again. “He was up there, ranting and raving at me. I can’t see the bastard, but I can bloody well hear him. That stone came crashing down and missed me by inches.”

“What a pity,” James murmured, and beside him, Joey sputtered on a laugh.

“I’ll get rid of him if it’s the last thing I do,” Sam yelled. He brushed snow off his hair and out of his eyes, letting out another string of vulgarities.

“Miss Thomasina, come back in here,” said Mrs. Day. “Such shocking language is unfit for a lady’s ears! Whatever are you doing down here in your nightclothes?”

“The same as you, Mrs. Day—finding out what happened.”

“It’s most improper, miss. Come, I’ll take you up to your bedchamber.”

“No!” she blurted in horror, for the housekeeper would see the blankets on the sofa and ask awkward questions. “I refuse to be put to bed like a child.”

The housekeeper tutted, preparing to scold. James was smirking, drat the man. He probably thought she was worried about her own reputation, when it was his she cared about. She would not compromise him for the world.

Thank heavens, her father’s valet tottered to the head of the stairs. “Please go check on my father, Riggs, and Mrs. Day, I want you to accompany him in case he needs a warm drink or some such.”

“I’ll do that, miss, but first I’ll get you tucked up.”

“No, you will not, Mrs. Day.”

“Now, Miss Tommie, after such a shock—”

“I’m not the least bit shocked. I insist that you see to my father first. Then, if it will make you feel more comfortable, you may come check on me.” Hopefully, that would give her time to put the room to rights.

“Very well, miss,” said Mrs. Day, mollified. She hurried Thomasina toward the stairs. “Such goings on. Whatever is Mr. Furbelow up to outdoors at midnight, I ask you?”

“Nothing good,” Thomasina said.

* * *

“What the devil were you doing out here?” James asked, as Furbelow stomped indoors.

“Taking a walk.”

“In a snowstorm?”

“What business is it of yours?” Furbelow snapped. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Max materialized through the wall. “Liar! He pulled the stone to the ground.”

Furbelow started, then drew his greatcoat tighter. “Is that damned ghost back again?”

“Yes, he’s calling you a liar, and I’m inclined to believe him.”

Furbelow laughed. “My uncle won’t, and even if he did, he’s too soft-hearted to throw me out. He promised my mother to take care of me. Honor to the death, and all that rubbish.”