Chapter 1

Outskirts of Bocka Morrow, Cornwall ~ October, 1811

Even from a distance, Castle Keyvnor seemed slightly terrifying. Perhaps it was the way the dark clouds seemed to hover over the turrets as a warning to travelers, or perhaps it was the spooky tales Lady Cassandra Priske had heard over the years about the place – tales of smuggling and witchcraft and of the castle’s many ghosts. Just the thought of those tales made her slide a little closer to her sister on the bench and avert her gaze from the approaching medieval castle.

“There’s no reason to squish me.” Samantha glanced from her book with a slight frown, her red hair bouncing about her shoulders.

“Sorry.” Cassy moved back toward the carriage window, though she was determined not to peer outside until after they’d arrived at the castle. “It does look frightening though, doesn’t it?”

“Not this again,” Papa complained. “It’s just a sennight, Cassandra. Certainly you can survive a sennight.”

Across the coach, Mama shook her head as though her patience had been lost for quite some time, and it probably had. While Cassy would love to plead her case one more time, that there was no reason for all of them to travel to southern Cornwall for the reading of Great-uncle Banfield’s will in an ominous castle with an unfortunate past, the fact of the matter was she’d pled that case before they’d left Widcombe Hall and many times since, and her parents had yet to relent.

“Grandmama’s brother lived there his whole life,” Samantha said, reaching for Cassy’s hand. “It can’t be that frightening, now, can it?”

It was nice of her younger sister to try and soothe her worries, even if her worries couldn’t be soothed. Cassy had, after all, been plagued with the worst fears ever since they’d received that summons from Banfield’s solicitor, Mr. Hunt.

“Yes, but now that he’s dead,” their youngest brother Tobias began, his brow wiggling dramatically, “his ghost is just waiting for you to walk though the gates so he can murder you.”

Papa slid his arm behind Mama and thumped Toby on the back of his head. “Leave your sister alone.”

“Sorry, Father,” Toby mumbled, sounding contrite, but he still had a wicked glint in his brown eyes like he was plotting something nefarious. Cassy and Samantha had been cursed with the worst little brothers in all the world. At least Alexander was still at Eton and they weren’t plagued with both of them at the moment. Though she’d have been happy if their oldest brother Benjamin was with them, as he had always been her champion.

Toby stuck out his tongue at her, so Cassy kicked his ankle as he was sitting directly across from her. Of course the swift movement woke Oscar from his sleep at her feet, and the little poodle let out a startled bark.

“I’m sorry, sweet boy,” she said and patted a spot on the bench between her and her sister. “Here come sit by us.”

Oscar shook his black tail and then leapt onto the bench, squeezing himself between the two of them. A moment later, he rested his head on Cassy’s lap and she petted the top of his head. At least she’d have her sweet dog with her for this journey.

“You should probably keep Oscar with you the whole time we’re at Keyvnor,” her brother laughed. “Maybe his ferocious bark will scare all the ghosts away from you.”

“Toby!” Papa thumped him in the back of the head again. “Leave your sister alone.”

“She kicked me.”

“Cassandra, leave your brother alone. Honestly, the next one of you who annoys the other I’ll have drawn and quartered once we arrive.”

Samantha turned up her nose at the suggestion. “I hardly think you need to resort to such barbarism.”

Papa narrowed his eyes on her. “Do not test my patience, Samantha,” he bit out.

And, truly, Papa’s patience had been rather thin ever since they’d left Somerset. Of course, if he’d just left the rest of them at Widcombe Hall he’d still have his patience and she wouldn’t be subjected to Castle Keyvnor; but Cassy resisted the urge to say as much, however, and the rest of the short journey through the Cornish seaside village was spent in complete silence, with the exception of Oscar’s cheerful panting.

Once Papa turned his attention away, Toby crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out again. Oh, she would dearly love to kick the little villain once more and would be quite pleased if Papa did have her brother drawn and quartered once they arrived at Castle Keyvnor. Of course, as bad as Toby was in the flesh he’d probably be even worse as one of Keyvnor’s many spirits.

“It doesn’t look so awful,” Samantha whispered once they’d arrived and stood inside the medieval castle’s courtyard. “Some might even call it charming.”

Charming it was not. There was something about the place that made a chill race down Cassy’s spine. She glanced up at the ancient castle and in one of the windows, she spotted a dark figure glaring down at them. “He looks awful,” she muttered in response.

“Who?” Samantha frowned at her.

Cassy gestured to the fellow in the window. “That man right there. A perfectly horrid looking man in a perfectly horrid place. Probably some grave robber or something, all in black like—”

Her sister heaved a sigh. “I think you’re imagination has run away with you again.”

So perhaps he wasn’t a grave robber. He was probably some distant relative here for the will reading, but he did look perfectly horrid. Samantha couldn’t argue that. “Well, then, who do you think he is?”

Her sister shook her head. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“The man right there in the window.” Cassy pointed again, but this time there was no one there. Heavens! What in the—

Oscar growled at something and then bolted past Cassy and Samantha toward an open doorway.

“Oscar!” she yelled after him.

“Cassandra, do keep an eye on that beast,” Papa complained as he stepped from the castle and back into the courtyard along with the Banfield butler.

Jack Hazelwood, Lord St. Giles, lined up his shot, struck his ball and bit back a smile as it bounced off the far end of the billiard table and rolled back toward him, stopping only an inch away from the baulk cushion. He stood up straight and glanced over his shoulder at Lord Michael Beck. “Your shot. Try not to hit my ball.”

His friend glowered in return. “I’m not sure why I even play with you.”

“You like the challenge?” Jack suggested, as Michael had never once even come close to beating him at this game.

“Must be it,” his friend agreed as he approached the billiard table and lined up his own shot. After a moment of inspecting the table, he added, “I think the only way I could possibly win the lag is if the ghosts of Keyvnor guide my ball past yours somehow.”

“It’s just the lag,” Jack replied, making his way to a chair a few feet away. If history had taught him anything, Michael would toil over his shot for more time than was necessary. “There’s still lots of game to play after the first shot.”

Michael snorted as he bent over the table. “Perhaps if I was playing against someone else. No—” he shook his head “—better hope some old ancestor will take pity on me.”

“You and Lancaster have both lost your minds.” Jack couldn’t help but laugh. “The place hardly seems haunted, Michael.” And it didn’t. Castle Keyvnor was an old castle to be sure, mid-11th Century if he was judging the place correctly, but it just seemed like any other castle Jack had visited in the past. Cold stone walls, rounded turrets and old tapestries hung up in nearly every room, and—

“A lot of people have died here over the last several centuries,” Michael replied as he finally took the shot with his cue stick.

Something his friend had said a number of times during their trip from Newmarket along with Teddy Lockwood and Viscount Blackwater. “Name me one place in England where that isn’t true.” Jack released a sigh. “From the Roman centurions to the plague to more wars than I can count. There isn’t one corner of—”

“Damn it all!” Michael grumbled, turning back around from the table.

“You hit my ball, didn’t you?”

“Let me guess.” Michael blew out a breath. “You want to go second.”

Well, that was the most strategic way to play; but before Jack could say as much, the little black poodle he'd spotted a while ago ran into the room and lunged itself at Michael’s legs.

“Oscar!” his friend laughed, dropping his stick in the process. “How are you, old boy?”

The poodle bounced on his hind legs as though begging Michael to pick him up.

“Know this fellow?” Jack couldn’t help but smile.

“My cousin’s dog,” Michael replied, snatching the little ball of black fluff off the ground and scratching him behind his ears.

“Oh!” Lady Cassandra Priske appeared in the doorway, a slight blush on her cheeks. Tendrils of her dark hair had come out of her chignon as though travel had taken its toll on her usual impeccable appearance, and Jack had never seen a more lovely sight. In fact, seeing her in such disarray made him wonder, not for the first time, what she would look like with her raven locks unbound and spilling over her shoulders to barely cover her breasts from his view. After all, she usually wasn’t wearing anything except a smile whenever his imagination took over.

“Lady Cassandra.” He bowed slightly. “Such a pleasure to see you.” In fact, she was the very reason he’d invited himself along on this unfortunate little journey. She had successfully hidden from him most of last season, but at a secluded castle for the reading of a will…Well, she couldn’t hide from him here, could she? Not for an extended period of time, anyway.

“Lord St. Giles,” she breathed out, her blush deepening.

And the breathy sound to her voice made Jack’s cock twitch in response. Yes, following Michael Beck to Keyvnor Castle had been the best idea he’d ever had.

“I didn’t know you’d be bringing Oscar,” Michael said, drawing Lady Cassandra’s attention away from Jack.

“Well, he does make for a more enjoyable traveling companion than Toby.”

“That I don’t doubt.” Michael laughed and then crossed the floor to offer her dog back to her. “Benjamin here with you?”

She shook her head and Jack would have done anything to wrap one of her stray curls around his finger. “Still in Scotland.”

“Are you just arriving or are you already settled?”

“Just arrived.” She smiled, lighting up the room and lifting Jack’s ardor. “And then Oscar ran off. Have you been here long?”

“Charlotte arrived this morning, and Anthony, St. Giles and I arrived yesterday. Already a ton of people here.”

Her gaze flicked back to Jack momentarily, though she couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“You haven’t—” she glanced down at the dog in her hands “—noticed anything odd since you’ve been here, have you?”

“As in terrifying specters who walk through walls like Grandmother once told us about?” Michael grinned. “No such luck, Cassy. Couldn’t even beg the spirits of Keyvnor to assist me in a little game of billiards, unhelpful sods.”

She nodded, but still looked slightly uncomfortable.

“Have you noticed anything odd?” Jack asked, watching her carefully.

“Man in one of the windows.” She shrugged. “He was glaring at me. Probably some distant relative who wants whatever he thinks Papa will inherit, but he did make a chill run down my spine.”

Some man was glaring at her? Jack couldn’t help but frown. “Well, when you see the fellow again, be sure to point him out to me, Lady Cassandra.” The man wouldn’t glare at anyone, most especially her, the rest of the time they were in residence.

She finally lifted her warm hazel gaze to meet his, and Jack felt it all the way in his soul. Damn it all, never in his years had any girl ever had such an effect on him. And she had done so ever since he’d first laid eyes on her, so very long ago. One way or the other, he had to do something about it; but she had hid from him most of the previous season, at least it seemed like she had. So how exactly could he capture her attention and keep from scaring her away?