For the Earl's Pleasure

by Anne Mallory

  “Ah, so you admit your madness.”

  She laughed harshly. “I admit your madness only.”

  “Ah, but that—”

  Valerian punched a hand through the man’s head before she could say anything to stop him. “I don’t like him. How do I get rid of him?”

  Dr. Myers stopped and tilted his head. “Cool air. He is here now. In the room. Tell me his name.”

  Abigail couldn’t stop her spine from going rigid. Those who were sensitive could feel the ephemeral touch of spirits—like a mist wrapping around the skin—rather than just the simple cold they exuded. The man in front of her had made it his trade to be able to feel them.

  Dr. Myers smiled, satisfied. “Someone important? Or are you just nervous? Come now, Miss Smart, tell me who he is?”

  Abigail said nothing.

  “I see I am correct on all accounts without you having to admit a word. How did you pick him up? Is he haunting the house or you?”

  “I don’t know of what you speak.”

  Myers tilted his head. “Tut. It took death to finally snare his interest. You must have been ecstatic.”

  A thousand warnings fired. He knew. Somehow he knew. “You are mad.”

  “We fit so well then, do we not? I offered to teach you the many ways our madness could fit together, but you so prettily denied the offer.” He withdrew another strap.

  He withdrew a bottle of liquid and she went still. Her eyes met Valerian’s and with everything in her she tried to will him to move. His eyes narrowed, and he moved toward the window.

  “Do you remember what I did to your last spirit? Or at least the last one you admitted to seeing. Certain tools are so helpful.” He uncapped the bottle and sniffed the contents. “You were such a sad girl, but it was for the best. No one can live a full life talking to the dead.”

  “How would you know? You don’t even deserve a half life.”

  He smiled. “I think you like this one. But then you like all of them. Such a lonely girl. So sad after the duke’s new heir was through with you. Turning to whoever would give you comfort. But you turned to the spirits, when you should have turned to me.” He swirled the container. “Now point him out, Miss Smart, and we will make some progress. It will be easier for you if you cooperate.”

  “No. I told you, I don’t see spirits.”

  His smile grew. “Of course you don’t.” He rose and began idly walking around the room. She tried not to react as he neared Valerian.

  “What is that liquid, Abigail,” Valerian asked, eyeing the bottle.

  She couldn’t afford to answer Valerian directly. “What has ever made you think that spirits disappear to hell when you douse them with that, doctor?”

  “Experience, Miss Smart. Oh, and your lovely reaction when I killed your friend. She never returned, did she?”

  “You are vile.”

  “I am quite brilliant actually.”

  Valerian stepped through the bed and behind her. “What does he mean he can kill spirits? He killed your friend?”

  “Of course, should you wish to let your new friend survive, we could discuss alternatives,” the madman said. “I would be severely punished, of course, but it would be worth it. I offer you a better option, believe me. Finish the treatment, Miss Smart. It will cure you of”—he waved his hands around, a bit of the liquid spilling to the floor, steam rising from the drop—“everything.”

  “No.” Her mind whirled at his words. Punished by whom? Why? How many people knew? What was happening?

  “Tsk, tsk. Letting him go to hell.”

  “Get out.” She kept her gaze on the doctor, but directed the words to Valerian. “Get. Out.”

  The doctor smiled in understanding. “Oh, but I have set up wards to disallow that. Fennel and onions, such a dastardly combination.”

  Valerian spoke lowly behind her. “I can’t leave. There is a barrier. I feel it.”

  But Aunt Effie had managed to escape. There must be a small hole in the corner that the doctor had missed. Perhaps a break in the wall to the connecting room.

  She addressed the doctor, trying to give Valerian more time. “So you already believed I had a spirit following me.”

  “I did.” He glanced around with his eyes, his head staying perfectly tilted. “The reports confirmed that you have been talking to one for days. Confirmed everything.”

  Reports? Ice froze her blood like a lake in winter, starting at the edges and shooting toward the center.

  “Reports? Who would report to you?”

  “That hardly matters. Would that they had told me more earlier. Tut, Miss Smart, but I’ll think you not so innocent after all.” He smirked. “I am here to extract information, but I believe I should start the process to end your part in this for good. I will accept the punishment from them, should they be displeased.”

  “Perhaps you should do what they tell you.” She grabbed Valerian’s hand behind her and maneuvered his finger to point toward Effie’s corner, hiding the action with her body. “And escape unscathed.”

  “You think to threaten me? Marvelous.”

  “I can’t leave you,” Valerian whispered harshly, as if raising his voice would bring the doctor closer.

  “Please,” she emphasized. “Believe me that I will prevail.”

  “I won’t leave you.”

  “Is he over there, Miss Smart? By you, perhaps?” He stalked toward her, and she dropped Valerian’s hand, squeezing the shears in her other.

  “I won’t let you touch me. And you are foolish for believing me still afflicted. Why would I risk another visit from you? I loathe your very presence.”

  “You haven’t missed me? I’m hurt. But everyone makes mistakes, Miss Smart. You lived up to your name until recently. What was it about this ghost that had you giving in and revealing yourself? I am most curious. I greatly desire to know. Do you fancy yourself in love? A substitute for the young lord’s rejection so long ago?”

  Any mortification she was feeling was covered by anger so deep and swirling that it threatened to drag her forever into the abyss. “You try very hard to play your games, Doctor, but I’m no longer the naïve girl I was.”

  “Gotten over your sadness and pain, have you? But it was so lovely to see. I wanted to cure you of that.”

  “No, you wanted to play.”

  He smiled and shrugged. “Alas, my weakness. Let’s play.”

  He sent a ribbon of the liquid shooting from the bottle in Valerian’s direction, and she threw herself in the way, the liquid burning her skin where it touched. Valerian shot through the man, cleanly slicing him, but leaving no damage behind. The doctor gave a little shudder with his shoulders and smiled more widely.

  “Come here, spirit. Just a little taste, then I will cure Miss Smart of her affliction and damn the consequences.” He started to loosen his cravat. “Unless you enjoy being a voyeur and care to watch me physically thrust it from her, before I banish you from her mind and from existence. I think the latter will be far more satisfying. There is a reason these ailments occur at the onset of womanhood, you know. I just need end that blissful phase and voila.” He smiled. “I was able to witness Miss Smart’s reaction to her previous friend dying, so I think I can make an exception this time. A different sort of satisfaction as I’m plowing you from her mind.”

  Valerian rushed through him, trying to connect, and the doctor flicked the top of the bottle as he passed.

  Abigail screamed as the liquid sprayed, nearly touching Valerian, barely missing as he arched and fell. He leaped from the floor in a defensive crouch.

  The doctor kept his eyes moving about the room, smiling that awful smile as he gripped one edge of a strap he had laid upon the table.

  She moved toward him, shears gripped tightly in her skirt. “I won’t let you hurt anyone else.”

  “Patience, dear, patience.” He reached for her with the strap and Valerian literally flew at him. The doctor somehow anticipated the action and tossed another stream of li
quid while grasping her hand and pulling her forward. She pulled the scissors out and shouted as the liquid arched toward Valerian. Valerian’s hands finally wrapped around the doctor’s throat and they fell to the ground, pulling her with them, the shears bouncing from her hand as her wrist whacked the floor.

  She saw Valerian shove the man’s head against the hard wood. Valerian’s face contorted. And then he disappeared, a tendril of smoke from the burning liquid swirled through the room, pooling around the doctor’s suddenly still form.

  “No!” She shoved into a standing position and wildly looked around. But Valerian was nowhere to be seen.

  A sob built in her throat and then she began screaming.

  Chapter 15

  He woke to screams. These screams were different though. Higher, like someone had lost something important. Not just the shrieks of pain and distress that he was accustomed to hearing upon waking to the madness.

  The second thing he noticed was that he was lying facedown on a hard, cold floor. A cellar? Had they unhooked him and dumped his body? Energy surged through him. If he was back in his body, he could return to help Abigail. His last thought had been murderous anger, and the knowledge that he couldn’t leave her.

  He hadn’t thought he’d been hit by that liquid, but perhaps he had and it had returned him to his body for good.

  He pushed off the floor and rose to his feet, surprised with how well his limbs worked. Not atrophied at all. A large bundle of supplies and a casket of wine and other cooling items surrounded him. Definitely someone’s cellar. Perhaps the cellar of whoever had kidnapped him in the first place.

  He walked to the door, again surprised when he didn’t stumble. The cold of the room barely registered. He reached out to open the handle and his fingers touched cold steel and relished it.

  A woman yelled. Abigail. Dear God. They had her too. She was locked up as well.

  He frantically turned the handle, and then stared mutely as his fingers slipped right through.

  He was still a spirit.

  Shouts punctuated the air upstairs. Running feet and banging. He was still in Abigail’s house. And that man was still upstairs.

  He concentrated and pushed through the door, then ran up the stairs to the kitchen. Servants were in varying states—some looked uncomfortable, some shocked or surprised, a few looked completely intent to ignore the hubbub abovestairs, stoically continuing their jobs.

  “None of our business,” an elderly matron said as she ordered the maids about. “Go about your tasks.”

  “But Mrs.—”

  “No, none of that. We all know she’s a strange one. None of our concern. Let them take care of it.”

  Valerian usually took little notice of the servants, but he considered the punishment he could mete out were he ever to regain his form.

  He continued through the hall and up the next set of stairs, then the next. A servant fled down the stairs past him. Valerian finally arrived on Abigail’s floor to see the door open and the man still lying on the floor. Cold satisfaction rocked him.

  “Abigail, calm down,” Mrs. Smart frantically said.

  “No, Mother, I will not calm down. Get him out of my sight. And if you ever bring him back I will run. You’ll never see me again,” she said harshly. “And I will no longer call you mother.”

  “Abigail.” Mrs. Smart sounded deeply hurt, but Valerian held little sympathy for her.

  “No! Leave.” Abigail kicked the prone man in the side and her mother gasped.

  “You are crazed.”

  “Of course I’m crazed, Mother. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted to hear? Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to stamp from me all these years?”

  “No, I just want you to be happy.”

  Abigail gave an ugly laugh. “You put us on this path. This has to do with your happiness, not mine. I had little to say in the matter. Little to call happiness.”

  “But you have success. Look at your success now.” Mrs. Smart extended her hands, her arms, her face begging.

  “And how long will that last? A fortnight more?”

  “Lord Rainewood is gone. He can’t hurt your chances anymore.”

  “Mother,” Abigail’s voice was unnervingly calm all of a sudden. “Did you have anything to do with Lord Rainewood’s disappearance?”

  Shock rocked Valerian.

  “He’s off carousing. How would I have?” Mrs. Smart sounded genuinely confused as she pulled her arms back to her sides.

  “You didn’t hire someone to remove him from society? To murder him?”

  “Abigail, you are scaring me.”

  “Am I?” He watched her run fingers down her dress. “Remove Dr. Myers, Mother, or I will never speak to you again. You can commit me and lose your place in society. I’d like to see you try to maintain your position after that. Curious that I never thought through the ramifications to your position sufficiently to stop fearing being locked up. You stand to lose just as much as I do. Now? Now I find I don’t care. What is the point?”

  She turned away from her mother and faced the window.

  The butler appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Smart?”

  “Yes, yes.” Abigail’s mother smoothed her hair. “Remove this man.” She bit her lip and pointed to Myers. “Throw him in a carriage.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The butler snapped his fingers and two footmen appeared, grasped Myers under the armpits, and dragged him off.

  Mrs. Smart turned back to her daughter. “Abigail, we have a later meeting with—”

  “Cancel it.”

  “But—”

  “Cancel it.”

  Mrs. Smart seemed to be trying to calm herself, as if canceling had been her plan all along, instead of Abigail’s directive. “Very well. I will inform Mrs. Browning not to return today, that you are feeling poorly still. We can speak later.”

  Abigail didn’t acknowledge her. She merely waited for her to leave.

  Valerian slipped through as Mrs. Smart clicked the door shut. He noticed that the lock was broken.

  Abigail’s shoulders gave a shake and she leaned her forehead against the windowpane. Conflicting emotions ran through him—the desire to comfort her, the desire to yell and shake her, the urge to do more.

  “Would you like me to go down and hit him again?”

  Her head whipped around so fast that she stumbled. “Valerian,” she whispered.

  “Who were you expecting?” He tried to sound flippant, but it didn’t quite work.

  She ran toward him, arms wrapping around him, head buried in his shoulder. “I thought you gone.”

  “I was.” He had thought himself back in his body, had felt the joy of being whole. The feeling slipped from him, leaving him numb. “I fell all the way into the cellar. Nasty places, cellars.”

  “No, really gone.”

  He frowned and then realized what her last comments to her mother had meant. His arms tightened automatically around her.

  “No,” he said.

  “He didn’t hit you with that poison?”

  “No.”

  “Thank God,” she said, her voice breaking.

  He didn’t know how to respond. Discomfort and fierce protectiveness twined together unpleasantly. “What was in that bottle?”

  “I don’t know. Something foul.”

  “He hurt someone before?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “There was another spirit before, not like you, not one I could touch or speak to in the same way, but a companion. She made things…”

  “What?”

  “Less lonely.”

  His stomach twisted.

  “He got rid of her,” she said woodenly.

  “What did he do to you?”

  Her muscles tightened. “I don’t wish to speak of it.”

  “Did he—” He swallowed. “Did he force himself on you?”

  “No,” she whispered. “He tried, he claimed that would cure me fully, pretended that only he could do so. But I held off long enough
, convinced Mother that I was already cured. I don’t know that she wholly believed me, but she turned him away anyway. I don’t think she could bear it.” She laughed harshly. “Though one wouldn’t know it since she brought him back.”

  “You should have reported him.”

  “To whom?” She pulled back and narrowed her eyes. “Who would believe me? They would throw me into the nearest strapped cell. A creature to be gawked at by the hordes. To ridicule.”

  “Not everyone would.”

  She unwrapped her arms from him, but her fingers played with the stitching along his left cuff. “You did,” she said softly.

  “Well, I’m a bit of an ass.”

  That caused the edges of her mouth to lift.

  “I’m surprised that you didn’t just play it up,” he said. “Make yourself into a spirit talker. People would line up to pay. It would also give you some level of security.”

  “The ton loves ghosts and fortune tellers as novelties. But someone who is trying to establish herself in their midst? Maybe an eccentric matron could get away with it, but a miss looking to marry? That doesn’t go along with Mother’s plan.”

  “You could make a fortune, then you wouldn’t need to marry.” He thought that sounded brilliant.

  “We have a fortune already. It just doesn’t seem to be enough.” Her hand fell from his cuff and she walked over to her dressing table and righted the fallen chair. “I need to go outside. Let’s leave. Let’s search for your body.”

  “It’s not safe—”

  “It’s not safe in my own home,” she said harshly.

  He shut up and watched her ring for her maid.

  She fingered the tassels of the cord, looking pensive. “You hit Dr. Myers then fell through the floors and into the cellar.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “How?”

  “I lunged for him—”

  “No, how did you stay here? How did you touch him and stay here? That hasn’t happened before.”

  He had thought of her—hadn’t wanted to leave her. Desired to save her more than anything. Had pictured home and her face had appeared.