It had surprised him at how relaxed he’d been around Lady Marjorie. Like himself, she had no desire to marry, and he had enjoyed the challenge of resisting her match with Miss Cushing. Poor Miss Cushing had been so tongue-tied, it had been impossible to form any sort of conversation. But once Lady Marjorie had accepted that they were not suited, he’d enjoyed bantering with her.
Although, he admitted to himself, he was the very last person who would help her with matchmaking. Her request last night, that he could help find a suitor for the timid Miss Cushing, was nothing he would ever consider—just like the idea of finding another bride to marry.
He had walked that path before, a year ago, and it had ended in utter humiliation. There was nothing worse than standing beside the minister, waiting for a bride who never arrived. Or having to give explanations about why she had run away.
When he’d received this invitation to the Hambly weddings, he’d immediately wanted to decline. But his former bride, Miss Laurie Kent, had been invited. And he wanted to face her, proving that he had moved on with his life.
Although damn it all, he hadn’t.
He’d spent the last year brooding, carrying out his responsibilities, and living in his brothers’ shadow. He’d already resigned himself to a life of solitude. He hoped to keep a small house with only a handful of servants and blessed silence and peace. He didn’t need anyone else, nor did he want any sort of life except one confined to solitude. That would suit him just fine. He was thankful that his investments had paid handsomely, and it gave him the financial freedom to do as he pleased.
And that meant he had no need to marry.
Throughout the morning, he had tried to stay out of the way, lurking in corners. He’d seen Nathaniel Cushing dart out of the library and speak hastily with Miss Daphne Goodenham in a nearby parlor. For a moment, he’d wondered if she was all right, but then Cushing led her outside toward the gardens, and she went with him willingly. He contemplated whether to follow, but ended up running into his friend, Hal, Viscount Blackwater.
“You seem in good spirits,” William remarked, stepping into the hallway.
“I am getting married, after all,” Blackwater answered. A smile edged his mouth before it tightened. “But I wouldn’t mind escaping the castle for an hour or two.” He paused for a moment, his gaze on the floor, and murmured, “They speak of ghosts here. I suppose you’ve heard the rumors?”
“Ridiculous rumors. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
His friend sighed. “I want to agree with you, obviously. At Keyvnor, there is the problem of multiple witnesses to multiple events. The word ‘torment’ is frequently used. Count yourself fortunate if you haven’t seen them yet or felt their presence.”
William looked hard at Blackwater. “Are you saying you’ve seen ghosts at Keyvnor?”
Blackwater looked up from his studied gaze at the floor to give William a quick, hard glance. “Have you not felt an icy chill in the air? Have you not heard things, felt things, that defied logic?”
William had, though he didn’t want to admit it. “But . . . ghosts?”
He turned his gaze back to the floor, and said softly, “Thank God for Snow. His ring keeps them away.”
“A ring?”
Blackwater shrugged. “Call it a Viking legend, call it rubbish if you will. But whenever he’s around, the apparitions leave. I’ve seen the ruby Grimstone glowing.” He shrugged. “You must think I’m mad.”
William was suddenly reminded of the card game the other night, when Marjorie had stared into the air behind him. There had been a chill in the room. Was it possible that she had cheated with the help of ghosts? The very idea was absurd, and he dismissed it. He ignored Blackwater’s question and simply said, “Give my best to Lady Morgan, would you?”
With a nod, Blackwater departed.
William spent the next few hours wandering through the castle, trying to stay out of the way. It was the day before the wedding, and the castle was bustling with activity, though he had not seen Marjorie anywhere. Servants were busy decorating the Great Hall, while the kitchen staff began their preparations for the large Christmas Eve wedding feast tomorrow.
Outside, the sky was clear, and he decided to go walking. The brisk winter air might do him some good and take his mind off the wedding celebration. There were too many similarities to his own wedding a year ago, and it brought back all the memories he’d wanted to forget.
Like the bride never showing up.
It was unlikely that Laurie would attend, since she had not arrived thus far. And while William had wanted to prove that he had moved forward with his life, a part of him was glad that she was not here.
He strode through the gardens, noting that the clear skies had become slightly cloudy. He could see his breath in the air, and there was a heavy feeling of moisture. The wintry silence held its own spell of enchantment.
Just ahead, he saw Lady Marjorie. She wore a long red cloak with a hood, and upon one arm, she carried a basket. In her other hand, she held a pair of shears. At first, he thought she was walking into the garden, but then he realized she was headed toward the large garden maze.
He shouldn’t follow her; he knew that. Yet he wondered why she had not sent a servant to fetch whatever it was she wanted. She should have brought a footman to escort her, at the very least, for protection. With so many unmarried gentlemen as wedding guests, it wasn’t wise for a woman to go off on her own.
And so, he began trailing her to ensure her safety.
The maze was taller than him, and he could not see past the walls of greenery. It felt as if he were cloaked in winter, for the frigid air invaded his thin jacket. For a moment, he questioned the wisdom of entering a closed space. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped and surrounded by shrubbery. But neither did he want Lady Marjorie to be alone and unprotected.
He noticed that she had dropped a few holly berries along the path she had taken. Was the hedge maze so confusing that she felt the need to mark her way out? True, her father had only inherited the castle a few months ago, but surely she would know the way out by now.
William turned left and then right, trudging deeper among the hedges. Here and there were more holly berries scattered, their bright red color vivid against the dying winter grass.
The maze was indeed larger than he’d thought, with several twists and turns. Once or twice, he took a wrong direction but quickly found his way back because of the holly berries. Marjorie was indeed an intelligent woman to think of it. And yet, he wondered why she had come out to the garden alone.
Eventually, he caught up to her in the center of the maze. A large evergreen fir stood at one side, and she was reaching up to cut branches from it.
“Do you need help?” he asked.
She jerked at the sound of his voice. “You startled me, Sir William.”
He almost smiled. “Why are you out cutting branches alone? Shouldn’t you let a servant do that instead?”
“I wanted to escape the house,” she admitted. “Everyone was running about, making preparations for the wedding. I needed some time to myself. My sisters are beside themselves with their wedding plans, and I thought this would be a good distraction.” She set down her basket and regarded him. “Why did you follow me?”
“It’s not safe for a woman to venture out alone. One of the guests might have bothered you.”
“Such as yourself?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I assure you, I am quite safe.” To underscore her words, she raised the shears and demonstrated a snipping motion as if wielding a weapon.
“You are safe now,” he corrected. “If you like, I can bend the branches down lower so you can cut them.”
She shrugged. “Very well.”
He drew closer and reached up to a higher branch on the fir tree. “How many do you need?”
“Just enough to fill the basket. Tamsyn wanted greenery to make garlands and wreaths for the house, so I offered to get some branches.” She cut the limb
he was holding and tucked it among the others at her feet. For a while, she worked in silence, and he was startled to realize how comfortable it was to be around her. Though she was normally quite talkative, today she seemed pensive.
He followed her toward another part of the maze where there was a large holly bush near a gazebo. Marjorie reached in with the shears and cut a branch, but let out a yelp after she pricked her finger. “Ouch. Those bushes are awful, even when you wear gloves.” She stripped away the kid glove and rubbed at her bleeding fingertip.
“If you want to rest for a moment, I will cut the branches for you,” he offered.
“That’s kind of you.” She pulled at the edges of her cloak. “I didn’t think it would be this cold today. It almost feels like it might snow.”
“It was clear enough when I followed you,” he started to say, but then glanced upward. Above the maze, the skies had darkened and grown cloudy. All around them, the air seemed to freeze, and he rubbed at the shoulders of his jacket. He thought of Beck’s suggestion of ghosts, but then dismissed the thought. It was weather, nothing more.
His prediction was proven right, for within moments, snow began falling swiftly. Marjorie hurried into the gazebo at the center of the maze, and he followed. She raised the hood of her red cloak and put her glove back on. “It looks as if I was right about the snow.”
He said nothing, and as the snow fell harder, he felt foolish for being out of doors without a proper coat and hat. His impulse now meant great discomfort during this weather. Lady Marjorie eyed him and said, “You look cold.”
“It’s no matter. The storm will pass.” He was not about to complain in front of her. It was a little snow, nothing more. It wasn’t as if he would freeze to death. But the snow fell steadily, coating the ground.
“Here.” Lady Marjorie reached for his ungloved hands and held them in hers. She brought them to the edge of her cloak and tried to cover them with the wool. The gesture of kindness startled him, for he hadn’t expected it of her. Or from any woman, for that matter.
Certainly, when he’d encountered rainy weather with his former fiancée Laurie, she’d demanded that he remove his coat and hold it over her head. In contrast, it seemed that Lady Marjorie would have offered to share her cloak, were it not so improper.
Beneath the wool, her hands warmed his. It meant nothing, he knew—and yet, he felt the hard edges of his bitterness beginning to soften. She was offering friendship, and for a moment, he didn’t yearn for isolation. Her presence was almost…comforting.
Marjorie ventured a tentative smile. “We should leave the maze before you’re transformed into a snowman.”
William nodded because it was expected of him. And yet, he didn’t hurry away from the gazebo. He was enjoying her presence while the snow fell around them.
Once they left the shelter, snowflakes dotted her lashes and cheeks. She was smiling as the storm died down and faded away. They passed by a hazel tree, and a gust of wind blew across the branches, showering snow over Marjorie. She laughed, brushing away the white flakes from her red cloak. “It looks as if I’ve been given another gown, doesn’t it?”
As they trudged back through the maze, the ground was now lightly covered with snow. Marjorie’s good mood sobered. “I can’t see the holly berries to find our way back.” With a wry smile, she added, “I thought it was a good idea at the time.”
“We’ll find the way,” he promised. “It won’t take long, now that the snow has stopped.”
William kicked at the snowy pathway, hoping to unearth the berries, but there were none to be found. He followed her through the maze, but she was not going back the way they had come. “Shouldn’t we have turned that way?” he ventured.
She lifted her hands in defeat. “Why do you think I used the berries to mark my path? I’ve only lived here since October. I don’t know this maze at all.”
“You needn’t be afraid,” he reassured her. “It can’t be far.”
“That’s not what worries me.” She slowed her pace, kicking at the slight layer of snow on the ground. “No one can find out that we were alone together in the maze. If they do, they might think that you—that we—” Her words broke off, and she flushed. “Let us just say that I do not wish to be forced into marriage.”
“Especially with a man like me,” he finished. Her meaning was clear enough, though he knew what she thought of him.
“With any man,” she corrected. “I do not wish to be married any more than you do.”
He was intrigued, for most women did want marriage. “Why not?”
A lock of her strawberry blond hair fell from her red hood, and she tried to tuck it back. Her brown eyes held frustration, but he found himself noticing her more. Her beauty was unusual, like an autumn leaf with unexpected colors.
Her lips tightened into a line. “Let us simply say that my last suitor believed that I should obey his every command without question. I had no freedom at all.”
She didn’t elaborate any more, but picked up her skirts to hurry through the maze. He followed, but when she rounded another corner, she stumbled backwards, nearly crashing into him. Her expression held panic, and her coloring had gone pale. “We can’t go that way, Sir William.”
He stared at the path, which seemed to lead toward the house. “Why not? I think it’s the way back.”
She shook her head. “There’s another way out. I found it by accident in November. We should try to find it.”
He took her by the hand. “Lady Marjorie, this is the way. I know it is.”
She jolted at his tone and pulled her hand away. There was a strange expression on her face, as if he’d said something amiss. Before he could ask what was wrong, she hurried in another direction. He couldn’t understand what had frightened her, but it almost seemed as if she had seen something. Something she didn’t want him to know about.
He saw no choice but to follow.
Marjorie’s heart was pounding as if a thousand demons were chasing her. While many of Castle Keyvnor’s ghosts were harmless, she didn’t trust the Man in Black. They’d suspected he was a pirate in life, and when she had seen him in the maze just now, he’d held a gleaming blade in his hand. While she didn’t know if a specter’s weapon held any corporeal power, she wasn’t about to chance it—no matter how much Sir William insisted that it was the right path.
His sudden commanding tone bothered her, for it reminded her of Lord Dewbury’s nature. For a moment, she’d been afraid he would ignore her wishes and take her hand, leading her straight into danger.
She wasn’t about to take that risk, and that was why she’d pulled free of his hand and had run from both of them. Marjorie hardly cared where she was going, but fear led her past the hedge rows and into a dead end. She stopped running and turned around, only to see William waiting for her.
“Something frightened you back there.”
Marjorie nodded but didn’t elaborate. He would think she was losing her wits, and she wasn’t about to admit the truth—that she was seeing ghosts. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart.
He paused a moment. “And you won’t tell me why you started running away from that part of the maze?” This time his voice was gentle, almost concerned.
She shook her head. At that, he folded his arms and regarded her. “Earlier, you accused me of being too quiet. Now it seems that you’ve become the taciturn one.”
“Not a habit, I assure you.” But the ghosts at Castle Keyvnor were real—she had seen them every day since her arrival here. Some were kindly, but others terrified her—especially the Man in Black.
“We need to find the way out,” she murmured.
He offered his arm. “We will. I promise you that.” This time, he took a step in the opposite direction from the ghost, and she tried to calm her racing heart. William’s presence lent her comfort, and she was grateful that he was here. The last thing she wanted was to be cornered alone with a ghost.
“Thank goodness for that.�
�� She took his arm and he rested his gloved hand upon hers. The light heat of his touch startled her, and though it was only meant as reassurance, the slight pressure made her cheeks flush. Marjorie adjusted the basket on her opposite arm, only to realize that she had scattered several of the branches on the melting snow during her hasty retreat.
Sir William helped her to pick them up again, and he asked, “Where do you think we’ll find the other way out of the maze?”
“I think I could find it if we return to the gazebo.” She walked back with him and thankfully saw no more ghosts. “I believe it’s this pathway.”
Sir William led her away from the part of the maze where she’d been frightened and back toward the center. As they passed the gazebo, he remarked, “Did you notice that there was hardly any snow on the ground on the opposite side of that hedgerow?”
“I wasn’t paying attention.” Because she was too busy being terrorized by a ghost.
“It was almost as if it only snowed inside the maze. But that’s impossible.”
Nothing was impossible when meddling ghosts were involved. Their very presence dropped the temperature quite a bit—and Marjorie wouldn’t put it past them to conjure snow. She pointed toward the north end of the gazebo and said, “Let’s try that pathway.”
Sir William accompanied her, and they turned another corner. For a time, they walked in silence, but she was conscious of his strength. He wore only his jacket, and it was entirely too thin for the weather. Yet he had made no complaint at all.
“I think we’ve found the way out,” he said at last. “Which is most fortunate, since I should hate to die of starvation, lost in this maze.”
He reached out and lifted her fallen red hood over her hair. The gesture was kind, and a sudden flush came over her cheeks. Marjorie walked alongside him toward the opening in the hedge. The moment she stepped through it, she saw dying grass beneath her feet without a trace of snow. Strange indeed.
Kissed at Christmas Page 24
