One More Haunted Evening

by Ava Stone

  “What’s wrong, dearest?” Callie asked, dropping onto the bench beside Lila.

  Lila shrugged as she dabbed at her eyes with Lord Kilworth’s handkerchief. “Just a broken heart, but I’m sure it’ll mend.” In a hundred years or so. Perhaps.

  Callie’s brow furrowed in concern. “A broken heart? Who broke your heart? Tell me now.”

  Lila swallowed a sob. There was no way in the world she was going to tell Callie about Lord Quentin. The man was her brother now. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Well, it matters to me.” Callie huffed slightly. “You are the most wonderful girl in all the world and—”

  “You are a bit partial.”

  “Of course I’m partial.” Her friend tipped her head back regally, as though that bit meant very little. “I know you better than anyone, which is how I know you are the most wonderful girl in the world, and whoever this fellow is, he’s a complete idiot.”

  But Lord Quentin wasn’t that. He had every right to be furious with Lila. No, she hadn’t set out to dupe him, but she hadn’t told him the truth when she had the chance either. “It’s not his fault.” And it wasn’t his fault he didn’t love her, just as it had never been Lila’s fault that she didn’t love Sir Cyrus. But being on the other side of that love was more than heartbreaking.

  “If you’d just—”

  A heart wrenching scream emanated from the castle and drowned out whatever Callie meant to say.

  “What in the world?” Lila touched a hand to her heart as she and her friend both bolted off the garden bench.

  “That sounds like Hope,” Callie said, panic lacing her voice as she raced towards the edge of the hedgerow.

  Oh, heavens! Had something happened to the lady? Lila followed her friend around hedge and into the castle through the garden door. The stunned housekeeper stood in the corridor looking as though she’d just lost ten years off her life.

  “Mrs. Small,” Callie began. “Do you know where Lady Hope is?”

  “She asked after Lord Kilworth, and I told her he was in the blue parlor looking over some of the treasure from the priest hole.”

  Callie’s teeth were clenched when she replied, “And which way to the blue parlor?”

  But Lila knew the way. She’d visited Marisdùn many times throughout her life when old Mr. Routledge had resided in the castle. “Follow me,” she said, and pushed past the housekeeper.

  “Braden will wring her neck,” Callie grumbled as she followed in Lila’s wake. “Unless we get there first.”

  And though his lordship might want to do that very thing, Lila didn’t imagine it would do any good. If Lady Hope hadn’t seen by now the sort of fellow Lord Kilworth was, having her neck wrung wouldn’t change anything.

  They quickly turned down a corridor to the right and…Was that Mr. Thorn? Carrying a lifeless blonde in his arms? A lifeless blonde that looked quite a bit like one of the triplets.

  “Thorn!” Callie called to him. “What happened?”

  He shook his head as though he wasn’t sure how to even answer that question. “Kilworth is dead,” he finally said. “I thought it best to put her in the next room for now.”

  Dead? Lila’s heart nearly stopped. The man had been whole and hale not long ago.

  She and Callie increased their pace, rushing until they were right before Mr. Thorn. “Is she all right?” Callie breathed, reaching out a hand to her lifeless sister-in-law.

  “Fainted,” the gentleman returned. “I think it was quite a shock to see him like that.”

  To see him like what? Lila placed a hand to her heart. “What happened?”

  He shook his head once again, looking just as bewildered as he had the first time they’d asked that question. “I actually have no idea.” Then he stepped into the yellow salon across the corridor from the blue parlor and placed Lady Hope on the closest settee.

  “I’ll stay with her,” Callie said, “But do find Braden and Quent, David.”

  Just the sound of Lord Quentin’s name twisted Lila’s heart. She did not relish seeing his lordship, but she couldn’t abandon Callie at a time like this either.

  “Your cousin is across the hall,” Mr. Thorn said, completely taking Lila by surprise.

  “Anna?”

  “Mmm.” He nodded. “We were…talking when we heard the scream.”

  Lila glanced at Callie and said, “I’ll be back in a moment.” And then she strode across the hall and found her cousin staring down at a man, lying in the middle of the floor, with a white shock of hair.

  That was Lord Kilworth?

  Anna stepped further into the room. She couldn’t believe the man on the floor was dead. Maybe Mr. Thorn was mistaken. After all, he didn’t appear to have an injury, though he did seem quite old. Perhaps he’d suffered from a heart ailment. As she leaned in closer, Mr. Thorn and Lila crossed the threshold into the parlor. “Oh, Lila!” Anna began. “Isn’t this awful?”

  Lila stared at the lifeless man as though she was in shock. “What happened to his hair?”

  His hair?

  “That is a very good question,” Mr. Thorn replied.

  “What’s wrong with his hair?” Anna asked, more than confused.

  Lila shook her head, unable to pull her eyes away from the man. “He had a head of dark hair, not an hour ago.”

  Anna glanced back down at the man on the floor. “He’s not elderly?”

  “He’s younger than I am,” Mr. Thorn raked a hand through his own head of dark hair. “I need to locate Braden and Quent. Will you be all right alone?”

  Tilly wasn’t going to let him finish. She got the point. So she grabbed him by the hand and together, they ran toward the castle. Up the stairs of the gardens they went, then they pushed through the throngs of people trying to dance on the crowded balcony, until they reached the inside, which still reeked of rotten eggs, and right into a gentleman barreling out of the castle.

  “My apologies,” he murmured absently while he searched beyond them for someone or something.

  Sidney’s hand tightened at her waist as if to protect her from stumbling. “Have a care where you’re going, Thorn, and at what speed. Miss Matilda could have been injured.”

  The man—presumably Mr. Thorn, whom Tilly recognized from Anna’s sketches—focused back on them. “Have you seen Braden or Quent?”

  “Neither. What is wrong?” Sidney asked.

  Mr. Thorn glanced down at Tilly, then back at Sidney. “A moment.” He nodded for Sidney to step away.

  She couldn’t hear what they were saying until Sidney very clearly asked, “Dead?”

  Alarm rushed through her and Tilly rushed over to the gentlemen. “Who is dead?”

  “Lord Kilworth,” Mr. Thorn whispered.

  “I need to find Quent and Braden and be quick about it. The Misses Southward are inside and I’m not comfortable leaving them alone with Kilworth, dead or alive.”

  “My sister and cousin? I must go to them.” Tilly hurried toward the castle entrance, Sidney at her side.

  Lila and Anna were both in the room Thorn had directed them to, standing over a man, frozen in death, his hair as white as snow. This was the man Lady Hope was in love with? He seemed at least three times her age.

  “What happened?” Tilly asked, but her sister and Anna simply shook their heads, seemingly just as baffled as she was. Thankfully, being the daughters and niece of a clergyman, not a one of them was a stranger to death. They’d accompanied Father to many a funeral, so it wasn’t as though laying eyes on a dead man was any great shock. She had a feeling, however, that the way in which he died would most certainly be shocking. She’d been right to stay away from this castle all these years, and part of her regretted coming here and involving herself in all this now.

  But when Sidney put his arm behind her and drew her closer to him, all regret melted away. She’d risk life and limb to see him again.

  Moments later, Lord Bradenham, along with Lady Patience and Lady Grace, crossed over the t
hreshold into the small parlor. They, of course, asked all the same questions that had already been asked, but not a one of them had any answers to give.

  Quent’s heart was pounding and his breathing was labored as he handed Falacer’s reins to one of the stable lads. Even though he had a head start on Vicar Southward, the man was sure to be right on his tail. And Quent had to find Lila before her father arrived. He had to find her and tell her how quite in love with her he was, and he had to talk her into running for the Scottish border before the vicar could catch up to them.

  He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do all of that in so short a time, especially as he had no idea where Lila was at Marisdùn or even what sort of costume she might be wearing. Damn it all! Why hadn’t she told him she was planning on attending the masquerade?

  Quent started for the grounds where the musicians were playing and masked couples were dancing. Was she part of this merriment? Laughing and enjoying herself with no idea that her father was on his way to the castle?

  Panic twisted Quent’s heart. How would he ever find her in this crush? If only he knew what she was wearing. If only…

  “Quent!” Thorn’s voice struck him even over the din.

  He turned in the direction of the sound and caught sight of his friend, heading straight for him. “You all right?” Quent asked, as he didn’t think he’d ever seen David Thorn look quite so distressed.

  Thorn reached Quent’s side and muttered only loud enough for him to hear, “It’s Kilworth…”

  That bastard. If Quent never saw the blackguard again, it would be too soon. “What did he do now?”

  Thorn heaved a sigh. “He’s dead.”

  Quent’s mouth fell open. “Dead? How?”

  Thorn shook his head in confusion. “That I have absolutely no idea about. On my word, it looks like he was scared to death.”

  Scared to death?

  “He’s in your blue parlor. I left Miss Southward with the body and came to find you straight away.”

  Miss Southward? Oh, thank God. “You mean Lila?” he breathed out.

  Thorn blinked at him. “I meant Anna, but…”

  “Damn it all,” Quent grumbled, turning back towards the castle. Never in a million years would he have expected Kilworth to turn up dead in his blue parlor. He started to push his way through the crowd, heading back towards the castle entrance.

  “Callie sent me to find you and Braden,” Thorn called after him. “But I’ve only run into Garrick and Miss Southward and—”

  “Lila?” Quent stopped suddenly. Thorn nearly ran into the back of him, not that Quent cared in the least. He glanced over his shoulder at his friend to find the man frowning at him.

  “Matilda Southward,” Thorn replied. “You do seem overly concerned about Lila Southward this evening.”

  He was that, and he imagined he’d be concerned about Lila Southward the rest of his life. But right now, he had to deal with the reprobate lying dead in his blue parlor. And the furious Vicar Southward would be at Marisdùn in just a few moments. Damn it all to hell. He turned on his heel and started again for the castle, when…

  “Lord Quentin!” bellowed the very last voice Quent ever wanted to hear again.

  He stopped once more and this time Thorn did run into him.

  “Apologies,” his friend muttered.

  “Not as sorry as I am,” Quent said just loud enough for Thorn to hear as the irate Vicar Southward increased his gait up the stone path, almost upon the two gentlemen.

  Lila’s father’s face was a brilliant red and his eyes flashed with fury. “Where are my girls?”

  His niece Anna was standing watch over a dead body. His daughter Matilda was with Sidney Garrick, of all the damn people. And Lila…Quent had no idea where she was. But he wasn’t about to say any of that to the vicar. “I am sorry, sir. I’m actually in the middle of dealing with an emergency at the moment. Can we reconvene in the morning?”

  Mr. Southward’s face hardened even more, which was a feat Quent hadn’t known was possible. “I want my girls this instant.”

  Quent glanced around at all the partygoers nearby and leaned in closer to the vicar so no one else could overhear them. “I’m not ready to concede Lila to you, but someone has just died, sir. I truly must deal with this situation. I’m sure you’ll find your daughters and niece on your own. You can expect me at the vicarage at first light.”

  The man’s eyes widened in surprise. “What do you mean someone has just died?”

  Quent shook his head. “That’s all I know. Mr. Thorn just now informed me. I’m on my way to see things for myself.”

  “Well, I’ll just come with you, shall I?”

  Thorn winced slightly. “No need, sir. We can take care of the situation ourselves.”

  The vicar looked Thorn up and down as though he was the lowest scourge on Earth. “I hardly think I’d take your word for that.”

  The condescending man didn’t seem inclined in the least to let Quent out of his sight. And, actually, that was fine with Quent. Perhaps by the time the night was through Vicar Southward would see things differently, perhaps he wouldn’t oppose Quent’s suit by the time the sun was on the horizon. “You are, of course, welcome to help, Mr. Southward.”

  Then Quent turned back, once again, towards the castle. He led the other two down one corridor and then the next until he came upon his blue parlor. He crossed over the threshold and found his one-time friend lying in the middle of the floor and the room quite filled to overflowing. Braden, Grace, Patience, Anna Southward, Garrick, Matilda Southward, and…Lila, in a very familiar shimmery white gown, stood on the other side of the room.

  Dear God.

  Her gaze met his, and Quent blinked at the brunette, his angel, his lady unmasked. Lila Southward. How the devil was that even possible?

  Oh, good heavens! Why was Papa with Lord Quentin? And why…Why was his lordship looking at Lila as though he’d seen a ghost? Of course, at Marisdùn, he might very well have seen a ghost, but there was something else in his gaze, something else splashed across his face that she couldn’t quite read.

  “Didn’t know where my girls were, hmm?” Papa glared at Lord Quentin as he stepped further into the parlor. Then his fiery glare touched Anna, Tilly and Lila. “It will be a very long time before the three of you see the light of day.”

  “Now see here,” Mr. Thorn began. “I—”

  “Honestly,” Lord Bradenham interrupted his friend, gesturing to Lord Kilworth’s lifeless body on the floor. “I hardly think now is the time for any of this.” Then he heaved a sigh, which finally pulled Lord Quentin’s gaze from Lila to his brother. “Callie has sent for Sir Cyrus, but I don’t think you want to alert anyone out there about what’s going on in here, not until Eilbeck decides what to do.”

  “Quent.” Mr. Garrick inched closer to Lord Kilworth. “Isn’t that your ugly Roman soldier ring?” He gestured to a golden ring that lay just few inches from Lord Kilworth’s hand.

  Lord Quentin rubbed the back of his neck as though he was quite uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I, uh, promised him he could have it.”

  “Seems that ring’s a bit of bad luck,” Sidney returned. “The blacksmith had it when he died and now Kilworth.” Thank God he’d not asked to keep it himself. What a horrific fate.

  Quent scoffed. “It was in my possession and I am quite whole and hale.”

  “But you weren’t.” This came from Tilly’s cousin, Anna. “I saw…I saw that thing above you on the road, and—”

  The other Miss Southward seemed to lose all color at the mention of this, and Tilly clutched to Sidney even tighter. Not that he minded. He only wished she was clinging to him out of passion and not out of fear.

  “I had just sent it to the blacksmith,” Quent said, almost to himself.

  “All right,” Thorn said. “No one touch the ring.”

  “Nonsense!” the vicar shouted, and then he stepped toward Kilworth’s body and plucked the ring from the Aubusson rug. �
�I will not have my girls subjected to more stories of ghosts and magical rings when no such things exist. This ring is an old relic, probably recovered from the ruins, and nothing more.”

  Lila Southward gasped, but before anyone could stop him, the vicar slipped the ring onto his finger, holding it up for all to see. “See? Nothing.” Then he started to tug it from his finger again. “Now, I will take my girls and be gone from this place.”

  But as he tugged, a cool breeze passed through the room, causing the candles to flicker and the curtains to billow just before the man went stiff. Good God. What was happening? His head wrenched backwards, but the rest of him remained rigid.

  “I’ll get Brighid!” Anna Southward called as she rushed from the room.

  “Papa?” Miss Southward rushed forward and reached out to him. But he was frozen, unable to reach back.

  “Darlings,” Braden said, his voice calmer than Sidney’s would have been. “Why don’t you keep Callie and Hope company across the hallway?”

  “You can’t expect us to leave now,” one of the triplets frowned.

  “I do expect that you’ll do exactly what I asked, Grace,” Braden said, his tone indicating he was quickly losing patience. “Now go sit with Callie and Hope, and don’t make me ask again.”

  “But, Braden—”

  Braden folded his arms across his chest and glared at his sisters until they finally gave up and quit the room.

  “Truly, it’s hardly a thing for a lady to witness,” Braden muttered.

  Tilly gave a small squeak and then looked up at Sidney. “I’m not going anywhere. I can’t leave my father like this.”

  “No, no, of course not, Tilly,” Sidney said, gently rubbing up and down her arms. She was trembling, and he wished he could do something to soothe her, or to help her father. Something. Blast, but he felt helpless! “And I’ll stay right here with you.”

  “I think perhaps we should lay him on the settee, Lila,” Quent said as he approached Miss Southward from behind, giving her shoulders a squeeze.