others spoke, a tingling energy had crept into her belly, radiating out into her limbs, drying her damp palms and stilling her shaking. More quickly than she would have thought possible, bewilderment and fear had transformed into excitement. It sizzled in her blood.
She had seen a ghost . She had spoken with him. She still could not quite believe it, but it was by far the most thrilling thing that had ever happened to her. Except for meeting Peter Cheriot .
She took a deep breath and met Lady Bronwyn’s gaze. “I saw him too. Could you describe to me his appearance?”
“ I believe you,” Thomas mumbled to the girl, but Bronwyn was already crossing the room to grasp Bea’s hands.
“He is odious,” she said, squeezing Bea’s fingers.
“But exactly how?”
“He has black hair and horrible black eyes and smirks at me, just as he did there.” Her gentian eyes clouded. “He wears a black tunic, shirt, and stockings.”
“Hose, I believe they called them,” Bea offered.
“And awful, tall boots that do not make any sound when he walks.”
Bea’s blood hummed, her mind awhirl. A tingle of fear still wriggled through her, but it only added to her exhilaration. “Why does he use the door to leave, do you imagine?”
“To be odious,” the girl repeated with an eloquent shudder.
Clearly Lady Bronwyn was too close to the matter to be of critical use.
“Beatrice, you cannot believe this chit,” Lady Marstowe said.
Bea nodded. “I do, Aunt Grace. I saw him, and I spoke with him before you all arrived. He passed his hand through a candle flame without flinching. He also told me I have a Welsh ancestor, which is perfectly true. Thomas, had you mentioned that to anyone here?”
“I didn’t even know it.”
“You see, Aunt Grace, Lord Iversly is a ghost.”
“Well of course he is!” Thomas exclaimed. “The question is not whether he is a ghost, but how we will prevent him from forcing Lady Bronwyn into marriage.”
“It seems so, Tom.” Tip’s voice was especially deep, but even. Bea met his gaze. It seemed dark, and there was a crease in his brow .
Her stomach tightened. She had dragged him into this. Well, not precisely. He had insisted on coming along. But he had not expected this, certainly.
“You needn’t remain,” she said quickly. “Neither of us believed Thomas’s letter, of course. You did not bargain for this when you offered your escort, and you have business elsewhere. We will not take it amiss if you leave.”
“Of course we will, Cheriot ,” Thomas stated. “I can’t defeat this fellow with a bunch of women.”
“Thomas, your gallantry does you justice,” Tip replied, then turned to Bea again. “My business can wait.”
She had rarely seen him appear so somber or speak with such lack of animation. She could only recall one occasion when he had looked so emotionless, the time he visited Yorkshire while he was still in mourning from his mother’s death. He had been so grave then, so unlike himself.
“I would not wish you to—”
“I am remaining.” His tone was unflinching, his jaw very hard. A thrill of pleasure skittered through her. Before, he’d thought the whole thing nonsense, and he hadn’t actually seen Lord Iversly . But now he believed her and intended to help. It was small wonder she had loved him forever.
“The last sane mind in this party has fled, I see,” Lady Marstowe said, then barked at Lady Bronwyn, “When do you serve dinner here, girl?”
“Oh, I beg your pardon, my lady.” Lady Bronwyn’s eyes glittered. “I am only enormously relieved you are all here. You cannot imagine what a terror this has been for me. Then Mr. Sinclaire arrived and promised help.” She laid a grateful look upon Thomas, then turned. “Thank you, Lord Cheriot and dear Beatrice. You are infinitely kind.”
Tip inclined his head in acknowledgment, but he did not smile. Bea bit the inside of her cheek.
“Dinner?” Aunt Julia chirped.
Strain hinted
She had seen a ghost . She had spoken with him. She still could not quite believe it, but it was by far the most thrilling thing that had ever happened to her. Except for meeting Peter Cheriot .
She took a deep breath and met Lady Bronwyn’s gaze. “I saw him too. Could you describe to me his appearance?”
“ I believe you,” Thomas mumbled to the girl, but Bronwyn was already crossing the room to grasp Bea’s hands.
“He is odious,” she said, squeezing Bea’s fingers.
“But exactly how?”
“He has black hair and horrible black eyes and smirks at me, just as he did there.” Her gentian eyes clouded. “He wears a black tunic, shirt, and stockings.”
“Hose, I believe they called them,” Bea offered.
“And awful, tall boots that do not make any sound when he walks.”
Bea’s blood hummed, her mind awhirl. A tingle of fear still wriggled through her, but it only added to her exhilaration. “Why does he use the door to leave, do you imagine?”
“To be odious,” the girl repeated with an eloquent shudder.
Clearly Lady Bronwyn was too close to the matter to be of critical use.
“Beatrice, you cannot believe this chit,” Lady Marstowe said.
Bea nodded. “I do, Aunt Grace. I saw him, and I spoke with him before you all arrived. He passed his hand through a candle flame without flinching. He also told me I have a Welsh ancestor, which is perfectly true. Thomas, had you mentioned that to anyone here?”
“I didn’t even know it.”
“You see, Aunt Grace, Lord Iversly is a ghost.”
“Well of course he is!” Thomas exclaimed. “The question is not whether he is a ghost, but how we will prevent him from forcing Lady Bronwyn into marriage.”
“It seems so, Tom.” Tip’s voice was especially deep, but even. Bea met his gaze. It seemed dark, and there was a crease in his brow .
Her stomach tightened. She had dragged him into this. Well, not precisely. He had insisted on coming along. But he had not expected this, certainly.
“You needn’t remain,” she said quickly. “Neither of us believed Thomas’s letter, of course. You did not bargain for this when you offered your escort, and you have business elsewhere. We will not take it amiss if you leave.”
“Of course we will, Cheriot ,” Thomas stated. “I can’t defeat this fellow with a bunch of women.”
“Thomas, your gallantry does you justice,” Tip replied, then turned to Bea again. “My business can wait.”
She had rarely seen him appear so somber or speak with such lack of animation. She could only recall one occasion when he had looked so emotionless, the time he visited Yorkshire while he was still in mourning from his mother’s death. He had been so grave then, so unlike himself.
“I would not wish you to—”
“I am remaining.” His tone was unflinching, his jaw very hard. A thrill of pleasure skittered through her. Before, he’d thought the whole thing nonsense, and he hadn’t actually seen Lord Iversly . But now he believed her and intended to help. It was small wonder she had loved him forever.
“The last sane mind in this party has fled, I see,” Lady Marstowe said, then barked at Lady Bronwyn, “When do you serve dinner here, girl?”
“Oh, I beg your pardon, my lady.” Lady Bronwyn’s eyes glittered. “I am only enormously relieved you are all here. You cannot imagine what a terror this has been for me. Then Mr. Sinclaire arrived and promised help.” She laid a grateful look upon Thomas, then turned. “Thank you, Lord Cheriot and dear Beatrice. You are infinitely kind.”
Tip inclined his head in acknowledgment, but he did not smile. Bea bit the inside of her cheek.
“Dinner?” Aunt Julia chirped.
Strain hinted
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