Page 42 of The Right to Remain Single

“I suggested as much to your father, but he wouldn’t even consider the possibility.”

“No, of course he wouldn’t,” and then, as it occurred to her, “You suspected this earlier. Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“I didn’t want to frighten you,” he admitted.

“Thank you, but I’m better off knowing the truth,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

“Protect your father as best we can. He won’t go outdoors in this weather, so we needn’t fear another falling stone. We’ll make sure he’s escorted up and down stairs. Remind me—what other methods has Max supposedly used in the past?”

“He chased the border reiver, who was gored by a bull.”

“Your father can’t run anymore, even if there were a bull close by, so that’s out. And there’s the well, but again, he won’t go outdoors, and even if he did, he couldn’t possibly stumble into it.”

“Maybe Sam will use another method that can be blamed on poor Max.”

“I’ll keep an eye on your father,” James said.

“Thank you. I shall do my best to avoid Sam, which will make it easier for you to avoid me.”

“My dear, sweet girl, I—”

“Please. I simply could not bear it.”

James threw up his hands.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If you’d rather leave straightaway, I understand.”

He shook his head. She scurried down the corridor into her bedchamber and shut the door. Several seconds later, he heard the key turn in the lock.

Had she expected him to try to follow her, and only locked it when she realized he wouldn’t? Or had she merely had to hunt for the key?

Set it aside, James told himself. Once he’d rid the household of the would-be murderer, he would get on with courting…no, befriending Thomasina. He pondered several more agreeable alternatives to hovering in the neighborhood. His preference, he decided, was to abduct her, depositing her with one of her various relatives, who, although they would approve of James, would never dream of coercing her to marry him.

In the meantime, he was obliged to protect her father. And the ghost.

He found Joey stationed at the head of the stairs and took him to one side, where they could carry on a quiet conversation. “I don’t know if you overheard my discussion with Miss Warren just now?”

“No, sir. It ain’t proper to eavesdrop.” He reddened. “And I won’t never listen in on you and Miss Tommie, not even if Mr. Warren were to offer me a guinea to do so.”

“That’s kind of you,” James said. The old curmudgeon had already asked Joey to spy on them! “I fear Mr. Furbelow hopes to bring about Mr. Warren’s death in a manner that can be blamed on the ghost.”

“No!” Joey’s appalled expression testified to his innocence of eavesdropping.

“He pushed Brother Antoine down the stairs,” James said.

Joey frowned. “So why did that there monk say it were the ghost what done it?”

“To make a long story short, he’s afraid of Mr. Furbelow. In any event, it is now up to you and me to make sure Furbelow doesn’t succeed in harming Mr. Warren.”

Joey’s lips thinned with determination. “Right you are, sir.”

Leaving the footman in charge indoors, James put on his greatcoat and went into the garden. He found Max striding along the Wall by the orchard. The ghost glowered down at him. “It’s just like before. They’re all against me.”

“Not everyone. I know you are innocent, and so does Miss Thomasina, and so do Joey and Mick. So does the monk from Gaul.” That was the best description he could manage of Brother Antoine.

“He accused me,” Max said.

“You understood what he said?” James suspected that the ghost caught a great deal of English, even though he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—speak it.