Chapter 4

Cassy sighed as she dropped onto the edge of her borrowed four-poster. St. Giles had called her breathtaking, and…She leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes, wanting to remember the rest just as he’d said it. He wanted to caress her hair and drown in her eyes and kiss her lips. She sighed again as she thought about how close he’d come to doing that last one. What would it be like to kiss him?

A wet nose brushed against her cheek and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Oscar!” She opened her eyes and patted the top of her poodle’s head. “I know what doggy kisses are like.”

Though she still had no idea what it was like to kiss a rogue or…Well, he’d called himself a scoundrel, hadn’t he? A scoundrel. He made the word sound so appealing the way he said it. St. Giles was such a mix between charm and danger, and… Oh, if only it hadn’t started raining and he had kissed her. At least she’d know what it was like instead wondering about it.

Cassy was being foolish, of course. Dashing as the scoundrel was, the last thing she should even think about doing was kissing him. He did have a certain reputation, after all.

Oscar dropped down onto the bed beside her and Cassy smiled at her poodle. He was such a sweet boy. “We’ll both be in for it if that awful Mrs. Bray finds out you’re on the bed.” But the fact of the matter was Oscar slept on Cassy’s bed every night back home at Widcombe Hall, and she had no intention of making her beloved little dog sleep on the floor at Keyvnor, horrid place that—

A dark shadow darted across the room! She spotted it out of the corner of her eye, but it was definitely there.

Oh, good heavens! Cassy bolted upright and screamed as the shapeless mass dissolved into the ether right before her eyes. She screamed again as she scrambled off the bed. There was no way she was staying here. Not one night.

Cassy threw open her door and rushed into the corridor, barreling right into her father. She’d never been so happy to see him.

“Good God, Cassandra,” Papa breathed out, looking at her as though she’d lost her mind. “What’s the matter with you?”

Heavens! Cassy’s heart was racing and she couldn’t quite catch her voice.

Beside her, Oscar barked as though he was explaining the situation to her father. Papa, however, didn’t speak dog. He narrowed his eyes on Cassy. “Was that you screaming just now?”

She nodded quickly and managed to find her voice. “There was a shadow in my room, Papa.”

“A shadow?” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Cassandra Eloise Priske, you will not start this ghost nonsense, do you understand me?”

Perfect. Papa was in a mood. But she had seen something. If only he’d listen. “There was a shadow, Papa. Oscar saw it too. And a chill in the drawing room. And something in the gardens.”

His face began to turn red. “Not. One. More. Word.”

But there were so many other words she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t imaging these things. She wanted to tell him how hurt she was that he didn’t believe her. And she wanted to tell him that she’d gladly walk all the way back home to Somerset instead of spending one night at Keyvnor. But the angry expression on her father’s face did not bode well for her if she so much as sighed her displeasure.

“Dinner will be served at the top of the hour,” Papa continued. “Don’t make others wait on you.”

Heavens! He’d had to wait for her one time. One time in her nineteen years. One would think that a single event such as that would have long been forgotten by now. It apparently wasn’t, however, so Cassy nodded instead of speaking.

“Do try to keep from catching my father’s notice,” Michael whispered to Jack as the Marquess of Halesworth entered the great room and glanced in their direction.

“Your father doesn’t care for me?” That was news. Jack had always assumed the marquess liked him. At least it always seemed as though Halesworth thought well of him.

“He doesn’t care for the fact that I brought friends to a will reading,” Michael muttered under his breath. “Already read me the riot act which Anthony, the stuffed up prig, found vastly amusing.”

That did sound like something Michael’s oldest brother would enjoy. He glanced around the great room and nodded toward his friend’s second brother who’d just returned from a long stint in the navy. “And what about Lord Harry?” The man had been at sea most of the time Jack had been acquainted with Michael and he didn’t have any sort of grasp on the fellow at all.

“Pompous prig,” Michael returned. “Sat there the whole time Father was dressing me down and barely blinked his eyes. He and Anthony are cut from the same wearisome cloth.”

“In that case,” Jack said, “it’s probably a very good thing you did bring me along, then.”

Michael chuckled at that. “Just as long as you don’t do anything that will draw Father’s ire while we’re here.”

Jack shook his head. Halesworth he could handle, at least he thought he could. Handling Lord Widcombe was another matter, indeed. Lady Cassandra’s father seemed much more forbidding than her uncle did. Rigid and humorless. He’d probably get along famously with Jack’s father, honestly, complaining about the weather and their ungrateful children. That was the problem, however. If Jack hadn’t, in his twenty-six years on Earth, figured out how to manage his father, how was he going to manage Lady Cassandra’s?

And speaking of the lady, where was Cassandra? Shouldn’t she be gathering with everyone else to head into dinner? How could he manage to secure a spot beside her if she didn’t show up soon?

“St. Giles!” Toby Priske bounded into the great room with a giant smile.

Though he wasn’t the Priske Jack wanted to see, he smiled at the boy anyway. “Toby.” He nodded in greeting.

The lad rushed toward Jack and Michael. “I searched the study over and I did find two jars of ink.”

“Two jars of ink?” Michael echoed.

Toby nodded quickly. “In case I have to dump them into anyone’s tea while we’re here.”

“Why the devil would you dump ink into anyone’s tea?” The horrified expression that splashed onto Michael’s face was vastly amusing, and it took quite a bit of effort for Jack not to laugh.

The young boy looked from his cousin to Jack and back again. “St. Giles said I needed to keep an eye out for any scoundrels chasing after Cassy’s and Sam’s skirts and I should dump ink in their tea.”

“Well, that’s not exactly what I said,” Jack began, but his friend cut him off.

“Have you lost your mind? That’s exactly the sort of thing that will draw my father’s ire.”

Jack shrugged slightly. “You and your brothers keep a watchful eye on Lady Charlotte. I simply suggested that Toby should keep a watchful eye on his sisters and to not let any blackguards get too close to them.”

“And he should do that by dumping ink in some fellow’s tea?” Michael’s brow lifted in question.

“Not that precisely,” Jack continued. “I just told Toby how I had done that very thing years ago to one of Helen’s suitors. I didn’t suggest he toss ink willy-nilly into just anyone’s tea.”

Michael released a pent-up sigh. “Toby, do not dump ink into anyone’s anything, not while we’re at Keyvnor, in any event.”

The lad frowned up at his cousin with confusion.

Then Michael glared at Jack. “And don’t give him any more ideas while we’re here.”

Lady Cassandra stepped into the great room, at that moment, her arm linked with her sister’s. Jack’s voice caught in his throat at the sight of the lady. Her dark hair was piled high on her head with ringlets framing her face, and the bodice of her pink gown was low enough to make his mouth water.

Jack cleared his throat. “I’ll be happy to keep an eye on your sisters, Toby, while we’re here. You can start plotting ways to keep their suitors at bay for when you’re back in Somerset or in London.”

Jack ignored the incredulous expression on Michael’s face. How could he be expected to focus on anything other than Lady Cassandra when she met his gaze and the sweetest little smile graced her lips?

“And perhaps we should forget about tossing ink into anything,” Michael muttered.

But Toby shook his head. “St. Giles said some fellows want to caress Cassy’s hair and kiss her.” He made a face like me might be ill. “I’d better be on the look out.”

Michael sent Jack a sidelong glance. “Some fellows better watch themselves while we’re here.”

“Toby!” Lord Widcombe called from across the room. “You should be having supper in the nursery with the other children.”

The boy’s shoulders sagged a bit. “I’m not a baby, Father.”

“Nor are you an adult,” Widcombe returned. “Nursery. Now.”

Toby glanced up at Jack and Michael as he started from the great room. “I’ll keep thinking up ideas, St. Giles.”

Before Jack could even respond to the departing boy, Michael jabbed him in his side with his elbow. “Are you chasing after Cassy’s skirts?”

Only since the moment Jack had first spotted her. Michael would have realized that long before now if he hadn’t been focused on the stream of skirts he’d been chasing instead. Even so, Jack wasn’t about to admit as much to his friend. The man, after all, was fairly overprotective of his own sister, and Michael knew Jack better than most. Odds were, that overprotective instinct might also apply to his cousin and Jack would rather not risk that. “Don’t you think she’s a tad innocent for me?” he hedged.

Michael snorted. “I think she’s a lot innocent for you. Though I’m not sure that’s ever stopped you before.”

“I promise not to do anything to catch your father’s notice.”

“I do not feel reassured,” Michael complained as Jack started in the direction of the beautiful Priske sisters. It was the brunette, however, who had his full attention.

“Shadows are everywhere,” Samantha said reasonably. “They move and change shape with light all the time.”

“They don’t move like this one did,” Cassy returned under her breath as the dashing Lord St. Giles started in her direction, and her heart increased its beat. “And they don’t disappear into thin air either.”

Her sister scoffed. “Please don’t say that to Papa.”

Cassy already had, not that it had done one bit of good, but before she could say as much, St. Giles was right before them. “My lady, we meet again,” he said as he lifted her fingers to his lips.

Cassy’s breath hitched and she was certain her heart might beat right out of her chest. “My lord.”

“Tell me,” he began, “do you see the fellow who scowled at you earlier? I would like a word with him.”

Cassy glanced out at the sea of people gathered in the great room. The place was teeming with relations, honestly. Her aunt and uncle. Her cousins. Distant relatives, a number of fellows she’d seen in society, and even more that she’d never seen before. But none of them were the angry looking man she’d spotted from the window earlier in the day. “I don’t see him.” And if the fellow wasn’t with the assembled masses, who was he? A servant?

Lord St. Giles sighed slightly. “If you do spot him, I’d like to know it.”

She nodded, feeling the tiniest bit relieved that he seemed so genuinely concerned about her.

“I had hoped you’d allow me to escort you to dinner.” And though his words were innocent enough, his eyes focused on her lips and Cassy’s cheeks heated from his attention.

“Don’t talk about ghosts,” Samantha whispered.

St. Giles heard her, however. An amused sparkle lit his eyes. “Lady Cassandra, don’t tell me you believe there’s any merit to the tales of Keyvnor’s hauntings.”

Blast it all. She liked it much more when he was flirting with her than mocking her. “I believe there’s something else here. I can feel it.” Even if she did sound like a Bedlamite in admitting so.

“My dear,” he began, sounding slightly patronizing. “You sound like Michael. I doubt there is one square inch in all of Britain where someone hasn’t died at some point in history. If something like ghosts were truly real, don’t you think they’d be everywhere? That there would be some evidence of them all around us all the time?”

“You sound very logical, my lord,” she countered. “And yet, something has made me uneasy ever since I arrived. And something terrified my grandmother when she lived here.” Cassy breathed out a sigh of relief when she spotted her cousin Anthony across the room. He wouldn’t diminish her fears, and he would probably keep St. Giles at bay. “Do excuse me. I believe I’ll allow Redgrave to escort me into dinner this evening.”