One More Haunted Evening

by Ava Stone

“Whoa,” Thorn breathed out a moment later. “An entire jewelry box. They were enterprising little thieves, weren’t they?”

  Sidney prayed Hope’s earbob was in there. He was growing weary of being in this blasted little hole, and furthermore, he didn’t wish to hear anymore of her incessant wailing should they not be successful.

  “Open it,” Quent urged.

  Thorn lifted the edge of the small metal box and shook his head. “Just another ring.”

  Sidney moved closer and glanced at the ring over Thorn’s shoulder. “That is ugly.” Why anyone would actually want to wear such a thing was beyond him.

  “That may be the most valuable piece in the collection,” Quent said, retrieving the ring from the box and lifting it up to catch more of the light from the sconce. It didn’t make the ring look any better. “Do you know what this is?”

  “I would have said rubbish about a minute ago.” Sidney snorted.

  “It’s Roman.”

  “Roman?” Thorn echoed.

  Quent nodded. “A military ring, likely one owned by a leader of some sort.” He rubbed his fingers over the metal. “Hadriano Fidem,” he continued. “Loyalty to Hadrian. This is early 2nd Century.”

  “From when they arrived in Ravenglass,” Sidney whispered, remembering the stories Miss Tilly and her sister had told them that very afternoon.

  “What is that smell?” Thorn grimaced. “Like something died in here.”

  Thorn was right. The smell was indeed nauseating.

  “Let’s come back after it’s aired out.” Quent pocketed the Roman ring and started back for the sitting room entrance. “Besides, it must be dinnertime by this point.”

  “Excellent idea.” Thorn was right on his heels.

  After all the excitement of the evening, Sidney couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his eyes wide open with no sign of wanting to close. Beneath his pillow, it felt as if Tilly’s diary was burning a hole through his pillow.

  After many long minutes of internal debate, Sidney reached beneath his pillow and retrieved the small, leather book.

  He tested the weight of it in his hands. It was heavy with her words, the pages tattered from years of use, the leather worn, especially on the spine and at the corners. It held all the secrets to the vicar’s daughter. Her innermost thoughts. He could learn everything he ever wanted to know about her, just by opening it up.

  The old Sidney wouldn’t have hesitated to devour the words within those pages. It would have been a great sport, and he would have had a fine time teasing the poor girl about it.

  Damn, but that sounded so very immature. He’d changed—the past year had changed him more than all his other years combined. So much so that he was actually contemplating going home to Gloucester. His father would be glad to see him; his brothers, he wasn’t so certain. He’d spent much of his life trying to make their lives Hell, just for the sport of it, which probably wasn’t terribly nice of him. But wasn’t that what brothers were for? Quent drove Braden to the brink of insanity on a daily basis, didn’t he?

  Though Sidney had probably toed the line when he’d seduced Jack’s fiancée. But then again, hadn’t he done him a favor, exposing the harpy for what she was? A harpy!

  Sidney rolled over on his side to look out the window, tucking the diary against his chest. He didn’t want to think about his brothers or what he’d done in his past. Like a bloody romantic, he wanted to think about Tilly, about dancing with her, strolling gardens with her, kissing her…among other things.

  Good God. When had he turned into a woman?

  Lila hurried up the walk to Braewood’s front door, which opened before she had the chance to knock. Muckle, the butler smiled warmly when his old eyes landed on her.

  “Miss Southward, it’s always so nice to see you.”

  She smiled in return and said, “You’re too kind, Muckle. Lady Brandenham sent for me. Is she receiving?”

  “She would never turn you away,” he returned and gestured towards the yellow parlor that was just off to the right.

  Lila stopped in the threshold as Callie was holding court with her husband and two of her sisters-in-law. Oh, drat! Which sister was which? And which one wasn’t there? For the first time since meeting the Post ladies, Lord Quentin wasn’t around to whisper that information in her ear, and…

  Lord Quentin.

  Lila had spent half the night trying to put his lordship from her mind. It was a battle she lost, as she couldn’t for the life of her, forget what it had felt like to be in his arms or the way his kiss had nearly turned her to mush. But she really, truly needed to find a way to forget those things, as Lord Quentin was clearly not for her.

  “Oh!” Callie leapt from the settee when she spotted Lila. “I’m so glad you’re here!” She threw her arms around her neck and held on tight like Lila might vanish if she released her hold at all. “I missed you so much,” she said softly.

  “And I missed you.” Though Lila hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her friend until this moment. Once upon a time the two of them had been nearly inseparable. And in the months since Callie had left Cumberland for Buckinghamshire and London, things hadn’t been the same.

  Finally, Callie pulled back from Lila and grinned. “Do come and tell me everything.” She tugged her towards the settee. “What have I missed?”

  “As though Ravenglass could compete with London.” Lila shook her head.

  Lord Bradenham dipped his head in greeting, then resumed his seat once Callie and Lila fell into place beside each other on the settee. “It is good to see you, Miss Southward.” He gestured to his sister on his left in blue and said, “Have you met Grace and—” he gestured to the one in white across from him “—Patience?”

  Thank heavens for Lord Bradenham! Grace in blue. Patience in white. Lila smiled at the marquess. “Indeed, we have met, my lord. Where is Lady Hope?”

  A pained expression flashed across Lord Bradenham’s face. “She lost an earbob or something like that. Honestly, one can hardly understand her through all the sobbing.”

  An earbob? Lila shot a glance in Grace’s direction. The lady shrugged slightly. “The, uh, particular earbob in question matches her eyes, Braden. She was quite fond of the pair. I don’t imagine you could possibly understand.”

  “Apparently not,” he replied dryly.

  Lady Hope had lost one of the emeralds from Lord Kilworth? Heavens, she must be distraught. How was the man to find her during the masquerade otherwise? “Perhaps it will turn up,” Lila suggested.

  Patience heaved a sigh. “Quent, Mr. Garrick and Mr. Thorn have scoured Marisdùn from top to bottom. No sign of it.”

  “Though they were quite hopeful,” Grace added, “when they discovered a treasure trove of stolen items. But alas Hope’s missing earbob was not amongst the find, apparently.”

  “I am sorry to hear it,” Lila said and meant it. Lord Kilworth might be quite the scoundrel, but Lady Hope had been so thrilled with the plan to find her love during the masquerade.

  “I’m certain she’ll recover,” Lord Bradenham grumbled, sounding quite a bit annoyed about the whole thing.

  “Wait.” Lila shook her head as the rest of Grace’s words suddenly hit her. “A treasure trove of missing items? What do you mean by that?”

  Patience sat forward in her chair. “It truly was amazing, Lila. They counted over 300 separate items that some ghost or another had hidden over the years in an old hollowed out priest hole.”

  “Over 300 items?” Lila echoed.

  “I am quite lucky to have had my ribbon returned to me.”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “Yes, I can’t image how the ghosts managed to part with it.”

  Patience scowled at her sister.

  “There do seem to be some unique finds,” Lord Bradenham said, warming to the subject. “Quent plans to see if the British Museum is interested in some of the pieces.”

  There were pieces fine enough for the British Museum
in London? “I would have never considered ghosts to be treasure collectors.”

  “Ghosts.” Callie shivered. “I shall have to draw up all my courage to even walk through those doors for Quent’s masquerade.”

  “You don’t have to attend, darling.” Lord Bradenham frowned. “You can stay safely here at Braewood and no one will think anything of it.”

  But Callie shook her head. “I can’t live in fear the rest of my life, Braden. I’ll mange one way or another.”

  “I must say,” Grace began, “I had such a different opinion on ghosts until staying overnight at Marisdùn. In theory, it sounds interesting, exciting even to be some place haunted; but when a disembodied laugh surrounds you, it is rather frightening.”

  Callie turned white at hearing those words, so Lila squeezed her friend’s hand in support. “I would be there with you if I could.”

  Callie smiled in response. “And risk your father’s wrath? I’m just so relieved you managed to sneak out last year.”

  “You were at the masquerade last year?” Grace asked, surprise lacing her voice.

  “I thought Quent said you weren’t able to attend,” Patience added as she exchanged a meaningful glance with her sister.

  A bit of panic seized Lila’s heart. Why were the two of them so interested in whether or not she attended last year’s festivities? “Well, I didn’t attend as a guest. I was just there for a short while.”

  “Long enough to dance?” Grace’s clever green eyes locked with Lila’s as though she was in the process of putting a few puzzle pieces together.

  “I wasn’t there to attend the masquerade,” Lila hedged instead of answering directly. “I was just there to help bring Callie home. Brighid thought it was important to have those who loved Callie the most all come together to pool our strength, our energy, so to speak.”

  “I see,” Grace replied, shooting her sister another speaking glance. And Lila was afraid the pair really might see more than she wanted them to.

  “It’s just so strange that Quent didn’t realize you were there,” Patience added.

  Drat it all. Had they so easily sorted her out? Lila pasted on a smile she didn’t quite feel and said, “My father would be furious if he ever learned that I’d defied him. So I hope I can count on you not to mention this to anyone.” Most specifically their handsome brother who was searching for a girl who didn’t really exist.

  Grace made an X over her heart. “Your father will never learn the truth from us.”

  Papa was only part of the problem. Lila’s much bigger concern was Lord Quentin. “Yes, well,” she tried again, “the fewer people who know, the less likely it will be that someone might say something by mistake. So I really must ask that you not mention this to anyone, not anyone at all.”

  “The very last thing we want would be for you to land yourself in trouble, Lila. You can count on us,” Patience vowed.

  “Truly, we are quite practiced on making certain overly strict guardians find out very little,” Grace added.

  “Is that a fact?” Lord Bradenham narrowed his eyes on his sister.

  Grace, however, simply laughed in response. “You are so easy, Braden. Overly strict and overly serious. One would think after all these years you would know when you are being teased.”

  He didn’t look appeased. “One would also think you would know when you are pushing your luck too far, Grace Post.”

  But she only grinned in response to that, and Lila couldn’t help but laugh.

  That enchanting laugh. Quent knew that laugh, and he stopped outside the doorway to the Eilbeck’s yellow parlor and smiled at the sound. Lila Southward truly was delightful. It was a shame she’d run off from the ruins yesterday. But as today was a new day, he would have another chance to manage things differently.

  When he strode through the door, all eyes turned to him, though his attention was immediately drawn to the gorgeous brunette on the settee beside his sister-in-law. She met his eyes briefly, but then looked away.

  Or perhaps it wasn’t a new day, after all. That was fairly frustrating.

  “And what brings you here so early, Quent?” Braden asked, his brow lifted in question. “A bit early for you, isn’t it?”

  A bit early? He wasn’t keeping Town hours in the country. And he never had, so Quent ignored the question and instead retrieved from his pocket the little trinket he’d spent the morning searching for and lifted it out for the room to see. “I believe this belongs to Hope, does it not?”

  Grace bounded out of her seat and rushed towards Quent. “Good heavens! You found it!”

  “Where?” Patience’s mouth fell open.

  “Just retraced our steps from yesterday. It was at the ruins. So no ghostly thief was responsible, apparently.”

  “The ruins?” Patience echoed, touching a hand to her heart.

  “How in the world did you find it there?” Grace asked, lifting out her hand for Quent to drop the emerald earbob into her palm. “It must have been like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

  “Well, yes.” Quent grinned. “If haystacks are fields and needles are emerald trinkets.” He glanced towards the settee where Lila and Callie’s heads were now tipped together in deep conversation. He had expected the pretty brunette to at least smile at his joke. She was generally so good-natured, after all.

  But then she squeezed Callie’s hand and pushed off the settee as though she was about to take her leave, which was the very last thing Quent wanted. New days and all that. “Certainly you’re not abandoning me to these people, Miss Southward.”

  “These people?” Patience narrowed her eyes on him and Quent couldn’t help but smile. His sisters had always been so easy to tease, almost as easy as Braden.

  “I do see you all the time, dearest.”

  Lila did look at him then, the most delicate of creases stretched across her brow. “I’m afraid I must be off, my lord.”

  She really was leaving? Damn it all. “I’ll see you out, then,” he said, and noted the pained expression that flashed in her eyes. What in the world was wrong? She’d never run from him before.

  “Not necessary at all, Lord Quentin. I know the way.” And then she breezed past him, into the hallway.

  The devil if it wasn’t necessary to see her out. Quent only had a hundred questions about what was going on with her. So he turned on his heel and followed after the brunette, easily catching her right as Muckle was opening the front door. “Miss Southward, wait,” he called.

  She glanced back over her shoulder at him and said, “I’m afraid I’ve let the time get past me and Papa will be waiting.”

  Was that all it really was? He wasn’t certain he believed that, but he had to take her at her word. “Then I hope to see you later.” And he really, truly did. Seeing her brightened his day, and she’d always had that effect on him.

  “I’m certain you will,” she replied and then escaped through Braewood’s front door, leaving Quent watching after her and an empty feeling settling in his heart.

  Something wasn’t right and it niggled at his gut. She’d been happily laughing until he arrived, and then she left as quickly as she was able. He shouldn’t let that bother him. He shouldn’t even try to figure it out. But it did bother him, and the fact that it did was rather frustrating.

  Before he could return to the parlor, Grace and Patience fled from the room and started for the main staircase.

  “Where are you going?” he called after them.

  “Delivering Hope’s earbob to her. She is still quite distraught,” Grace returned.

  She’d been a blubbering mess up until they’d left Marisdùn the previous evening. “Just make certain you tell her to keep a better eye on the thing in the future. I don’t enjoy crawling around fields on my hands and knees.”

  Patience grinned at him over her shoulder. “I don’t think that will ever be a problem again, Quent. You were wonderful to find it for her.”

  “We’ll make certain she knows all the troubl
e you went to,” Grace added.

  He stood a little taller at that. “Yes, well, do let her know.”

  “Here,” Grace dropped Hope’s earbob unceremoniously onto the counterpane that covered her still despondent sister. “Now you can stop being a baby and help us.”

  Hope blinked at the emerald as though it was a figment of her imagination. “Where did you find it?” she croaked out, her voice still raspy from all of the wailing she’d done over the last day.

  “We didn’t.” Patience sat on the edge of the four-poster. “Quent searched the ruins for it.”

  “On his hands and knees,” Grace added.

  “The ruins?” A breath rushed from Hope as though that possibility had never crossed her mind before now.

  “Yes, yes,” Grace grumbled as she began to pace the room. “You have Kilworth’s earbob back so all is right in your world. Now, sit up and help us focus, will you? You do owe Quent now.”

  “Focus?” Hope grasped the earbob in her hand as though it was a lifeline. “On what?”

  Patience heaved a sigh, still clearly thrown by their recent discovery. “How could he not know?” she asked, and there was no reason to explain who he was. She and Grace had been of a mind the entire conversation in the parlor.

  “Because he’s a man,” she returned. Quent the overgrown idiot, no matter if he was a wonderful brother, Grace had never realized how blind he was until now. “The better question is why is she keeping it from him. She does know he’s looking for her.”

  “Why is who keeping what from whom?” Hope asked, sitting up higher in her bed, her treasured earbob clutched in her hand like she never intended to let it go. Her cheeks were so red and her eyes so puffy from all of her crying, it was a miracle she was even able to see.

  “Lila Southward,” Patience replied. “She’s his angel. She is, isn’t she?” Her green eyes stayed level on Grace.

  “I would bet my life on it.” Though the entire thing was all very odd. Grace wasn’t sure how any of it made any sense, but it did somehow. She was sure of it.

  “Is that all?” Patience teased. “I’d bet Hope’s other earbob on it.” Which earned her a kick from their sister.