by C. J. Archer
I turned to Teddy and he gave me a broad smile with not a twitch in sight. "Thank you, miss," he said. "Now, I owe you."
I was about to tell him not to bother, but stopped myself. I was in no mood to reveal my power to the butcher and be forced to defend my sanity.
Teddy prattled on, oblivious to my discomfort. "They couldn't, or wouldn't, tell me much. Your Mr. St. Clair got into Purgatory for doing something bad in his life, but I don't know what. He died during the Third Crusade."
The crusades! Of course. He'd been a knight. It made sense that he'd fought in the Holy Wars. No able-bodied knight could avoid it at that time. That explained why he could speak Arabic. I wondered if that was also how he'd known the code used in the book we'd found in the society's library—perhaps it had been used in the crusades to pass messages in secret.
So I now had a narrower date for Quin's lifetime. I would need to look up the years of the Third Crusade.
I headed out the door and Teddy followed. "There's some more," he said. "He was the fifth son and he outlived all his brothers. Two died in infancy, another at the age of fifteen in a hunting accident, and the fourth youngest went to the crusade with your St. Clair. He died in the Holy Land too, but a little earlier. There were no sisters."
I kept walking and Teddy kept following and talking. It was strange hearing Quin's life laid out with no emotion, as if Teddy were reading an entry in Debrett's. It was like I was learning about a historical figure in the classroom, and not someone who'd kissed me with such tenderness that my heart still ached whenever I thought of it. I touched my fingers to my lips as I rounded the corner into an alley, and closed my stinging eyes before the tears spilled.
"His wife died a year before him."
"Wife!" I opened my eyes.
Teddy flattened himself against the wall at my outburst and nodded quickly. His mouth twitched and I apologized and backed away.
"Her name was Isabella," he said. "There were no children."
No children. I tried to digest that, along with the fact that he'd been married. Of course, he must have been. A gentleman of his age would be in need of a wife. They married young back then, sometimes betrothed as children.
Quin hadn't needed to explain any of these things to me, yet it felt something of a betrayal nevertheless. He knew so much about me, and I would have told him anything if he'd asked, so why had he not told me these basic facts? Why the secrecy?
"I'm sorry it ain't much," Teddy said. "Can I go now, and see Ma?"
"Of course. Thank you for the information."
"Thank you for your help in there, miss. I think he's suffering a bit now, like me and Ma did."
It wasn't quite on the same scale but it seemed to satisfy Teddy. I smiled. "Go now. Be at peace and enjoy your afterlife."
He grinned and disappeared.
I slumped against the wall and sucked in deep breaths. Unfortunately the alley was filled with refuse from the butcher's shop and I got a hearty whiff of putrid meat. My stomach heaved and I threw up behind an empty crate.
Wiping my mouth, I hurried out of the alley and up High Street, quickly leaving Harborough behind altogether. The walk back to Freak House was reasonably long but I didn't care. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts and memories before I rejoined the household. No doubt Sylvia would be full of talk about the ball, now that Tommy was home safely. I looked forward to the distraction of her chatter, but not yet.
For now, I wanted to breathe in the scent of the flowers and remind myself that it was good to be alive, that the future might not be so grim without Quin in it.
It was hard to digest that idea, however. So very hard. I missed him so much. It was like an ache worse than anything I'd suffered with the supernatural fever. I wondered how long it would take to set aside my feelings for him and move on. I couldn't imagine it taking mere days or weeks, nor even months. The attachment was too strong to snap or fray.
I could perhaps take a ship back to Melbourne and leave England and the painful memories behind. The gentlemen weren't so dandy in the colonies and the way of life not so stifling. But that would mean leaving the portal, and the chance of seeing Quin again, and it certainly wouldn't help me forget him. Nothing could.
It began to drizzle with rain and I was not yet half way to Frakingham. I lifted my face and drew the scent of fresh, damp air into my lungs. Everything was so uncertain, but there was one thing I did know. I was alive and I had Quin to thank for that.
He was my warrior, my protector, and always would be.
THE END
Now Available:
Banished
The second book in the 3rd Freak House Trilogy.
An infestation of evil spirits at Freak House keeps Cara busy, while a new enemy threatens her loved ones if she doesn't give him the book of spells. Is the danger enough to call Quin back into her life?
Download BANISHED now.
A MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR
I hope you enjoyed reading GHOST GIRL as much as I enjoyed writing it. As an independent author, getting the word out about my book is vital to its success, so if you liked this book please consider telling your friends and writing a review at the store where you purchased it. If you would like to be contacted when I release a new book, subscribe to my newsletter at http://cjarcher.com/contact-cj/newsletter/. You will only be contacted when I have a new book out.
BOOKS BY C.J. ARCHER
The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #1)
Possession (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #2)
Evermore (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #3)
The Wrong Girl (1st Freak House #1)
Playing With Fire (1st Freak House #2)
Heart Burn (1st Freak House #3)
The Memory Keeper (2nd Freak House #1)
Seared With Scars (2nd Freak House #2)
Edge Of Darkness (2nd Freak House #3)
Ghost Girl (3rd Freak House #1)
Banished (3rd Freak House #2)
The Charmer (Assassins Guild #1)
The Rebel (Assassins Guild #2)
The Saint (Assassins Guild #3)
The Sinner (Assassins Guild #4)
Her Secret Desire (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #1)
Scandal's Mistress (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #2)
To Tempt The Devil (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #3)
Honor Bound (The Witchblade Chronicles Book #1)
Kiss Of Ash (The Witchblade Chronicles #2)
Courting His Countess
Surrender
Redemption
The Mercenary's Price
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
C.J. Archer has loved history and books for as long as she can remember. She worked as a librarian and technical writer until she was able to channel her twin loves by writing historical fiction. She has won and placed in numerous romance writing contests, including taking home RWAustralia’s Emerald Award in 2008 for the manuscript that would become her novel Honor Bound. Under the name Carolyn Scott, she has published contemporary romantic mysteries, including Finders Keepers Losers Die, and The Diamond Affair. After spending her childhood surrounded by the dramatic beauty of outback Queensland, she lives today in suburban Melbourne, Australia, with her husband and their two children.
She loves to hear from readers. You can contact her in one of these ways:
Website: http://cjarcher.com
Email: [email protected]
Twitter: @cj_archer
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CJArcherAuthorPage
Tumblr: http://freakhouseresidents.tumblr.com
To be notified when C.J. has a new release, sign up to her newsletter at http://cjarcher.com/contact-cj/newsletter/
In the meantime, have you read THE SAINT? Here's the description. Read on for an excerpt.
Elizabeth Buckley has been in love with Edward Monk for most of her life. Unfortunately he's only ever had eyes for her older, prettier sister. Five years after he left the village to make himself worthy of a Buckley, the
ir lives intersect. This time, she's determined to make him see her and bed her.
All Edward has to do is convince the girl he loves to set aside her betrothed and wed him instead. When her betrothed becomes tangled in a web of lies and murder, it's up to Edward to untangle him. If only he could keep his mind on the task, and not get distracted by the wrong Buckley girl.
As lies unravel and the Buckleys are brought to the brink of ruin, Edward must make the ultimate sacrifice, or risk losing everything he's worked so hard for.
CHAPTER 1
Hampshire, July 1599
"He comes! He comes!" Jeffrey, Baron Lynden, tore his equine nose away from the parlor window where it had been pressed for the better part of an hour. He wiped off the smudge it left behind with the lace cuff of his sleeve then arranged himself by the fireplace, propping one padded shoulder against the mantel and crossing his ankles. The pose showed off his legs in all their slender perfection, not to mention the new yellow velvet shoes made by London's finest shoemaker. They'd cost him a sum that could have fed a family from the village for an entire week.
His cousin Elizabeth Buckley suspected that was the reason he wore them now. To Jeffrey's mind, having an earl come to dine was certainly an occasion worthy of yellow velvet shoes and a matching yellow and brown striped silk doublet. He'd even donned a pearl earring and matching broach. Not that Jeffrey needed a special reason to don extravagant attire. Elizabeth had seen him parade to the garderobe in Windsor Castle in a hat adorned with peacock feathers.
"Sit up straight, Arrabella," he said to Elizabeth's older sister.
Arrabella dutifully squared her shoulders, thrusting out her magnificent cleavage. It brought a smile to Jeffrey's face. Not that Jeffrey was interested in Arrabella's cleavage or any of her other virtues, of which there were many—one only had to ask her to be given a list. No, Arrabella's cleavage was important to Jeffrey in the same way a mousetrap is of interest to a cat.
"Lift your chin," he said, lifting his own chin. "Good girl. Now pout those pretty lips of yours. No, not like that, like this." He puckered his lips and nodded as Arrabella did the same. "Place your hands in your lap like an obedient lady."
He didn't so much as flicker an eyelash in Elizabeth's direction upon the word 'obedient', but she was in no doubt that it was meant as a slight on her character. Jeffrey had learned in the last few weeks spent in the Buckley girls' company that they'd grown up since he last saw them. Grown and changed, and not just in looks. Elizabeth might appear the less troublesome of the two sisters with her unremarkable face and figure, but her tongue was sharper than Arrabella's, and her mind too quick for her plodding cousin.
Except when Arrabella was alone with Elizabeth. On those occasions Arrabella's tongue could be as cutting as a knife, and her sweetness vanished like a mist in the sunshine.
"Good girl," Jeffrey cooed to Arrabella in the same tone a master uses with his pet dog. "Lord Oxley cannot fail to notice you now."
"She deserves an extra sweetmeat, don't you think, Cousin?" Elizabeth passed the trencher to her sister.
Arrabella narrowed her eyes. "I don't know what you're doing, but stop it."
Elizabeth returned the trencher to the table. Her mother, Janet Buckley, picked off an orange succade and popped it in her mouth. "Jeffrey, this is of no use," she said around her sweet. "Arrabella is almost betrothed."
"Almost is not always enough, Aunt," he said. "She is not secure until the wedding night. Anyway, Lord Oxley is an earl and a wealthy one at that. If he shows an interest in her, she would be wise to disregard her affection for Lord Greville. In fact, I would insist upon it."
Arrabella gasped. "You wouldn't!"
Elizabeth blinked at her sister's unexpected outburst. It would seem Arrabella's true nature wasn't completely buried beneath the mask of obedience and amiability. It also proved that she had feelings for Greville. The revelation was a surprise indeed.
"I am the head of this family," Jeffrey reminded her with a preening stretch of his neck. "I'm sure your father, God rest his soul, would have wanted to see you rise to become a countess as much as I do."
Elizabeth snorted, earning herself a glare from the other three. She shrugged off their rebuke. She doubted their father would have cared whom Arrabella married, as long as his eldest daughter was off his hands. Before Jeffrey's unexpected inheritance of the Lynden title a mere year and a half ago, Arrabella had refused no less than three marriage proposals, and there'd been another three since. According to Arrabella, none of the suitors had been good enough. They were either too ugly, too short, too fat, too dull or too poor. The girls' father had once promised both his daughters he wouldn't force them to wed where their hearts weren't engaged, but Elizabeth began to suspect he regretted making that promise as Arrabella grew more and more prickly.
Thank goodness for Lord Greville. He met each of Arrabella's requirements, and at six and twenty, time was running out for her.
"Elizabeth." The word dropped heavily from Jeffrey's soft lips, perhaps because he'd not wanted to engage the troublesome sister at all. God knew it was probably easier for him to ignore her than talk to her. It was how she preferred it too. "Elizabeth, please try to be…" He waggled his fingers as he searched for the right word.
"Demure?" she offered.
He pointed at her. "Yes! Demure women are an asset to any social gathering."
"Dutiful?"
"That too. Most certainly."
"Diligent?"
"Um, I'm not sure…"
"Dull?"
"Do be quiet, Lizzie," Arrabella bit off. She touched the pale golden hair at her temple, which Elizabeth had helped pin in place that morning. She looked beautiful, as usual.
"Hands in your lap, Sis," Elizabeth reminded her. "You wouldn't want Lord Oxley to think you anything other than a demure, dutiful, dull-witted girl."
"I am already betrothed," Arrabella said through clenched teeth. Her temper was rising. A few more pushes, and she might even reveal her true nature in front of their cousin.
"But not to an earl," Elizabeth pointed out.
Arrabella clicked her tongue. "How you vex me, Lizzie."
Jeffrey sighed and sagged against the mantel. "He'll be here any moment," he muttered, defeated.
"Coy," Janet suddenly said. She rolled her ample body forward in the chair and picked another sweetmeat off the trencher. Her eyes closed in ecstasy as the sugary sweetness hit her tongue. She sucked a moment then opened them again. "You should be coy, Elizabeth, like your sister." She licked her stubby fingers. "A gentleman likes ladies who flirt and use their wit to amuse him rather than berate him."
"I've never berated—"
"Shrews do not make happy wives."
"Or husbands," Jeffrey added.
Elizabeth appealed to her sister for help, but received only a self-satisfied smirk in response. She should have known better than to try and find an ally in that quarter. Arrabella's greatest talent was in knowing who to side with, and in this argument, Elizabeth would most certainly be defeated.
"You think me a shrew, Mother?"
"I think you far too clever for a girl of twenty who's yet to learn that the world can be cruel to her sex. You haven't the prettiness of your sister, or her sweet nature." She cleared her throat and did not meet anyone's gaze.
Sweet? Good lord. Elizabeth thought about protesting at her mother's outright lie, but remembered that Jeffrey—and the world at large—didn't know Arrabella could be as brittle and cold as an icicle. Nor was she in the mood to educate him. No doubt her sister would falter at some stage during their summer stay at Sutton Hall, and he would eventually see the ice maiden underneath the smiles.
"As such," Janet went on, "you must learn to at least be obedient. If you can't do that, then simply bite your tongue. Otherwise you will be a spinster forever and tasked with looking after your dear old mother for the rest of her days." She smiled triumphantly and Elizabeth had to admit, if only to herself, that her mother had won
the battle with those final words.
It was wise not to disagree with Janet Buckley. She was always slow to rouse, but once she got started, she was difficult to stop. She resembled a large boulder in that respect. Difficult to leverage into position and push into the first roll, but after several more rolls, only an impenetrable barrier could stop her.
That impenetrable barrier entered the parlor in the form of a gentleman dressed in a crimson and black doublet, matching trunk hose that swelled at his hips and a hat festooned with glossy black feathers. He was tall with shapely legs and long fingers. It was difficult to tell how broad he was in the shoulders because of the ridiculous padding in his sleeves. Elizabeth dismissed him as a potential husband for Arrabella. Her sister preferred gentlemen who weren't dandies. Elizabeth too had seen enough of them in London in the previous weeks to know that she hadn't the patience for men who preened more than the ladies at court. He was, however, just the sort Jeffrey liked to dine with.
"My lord!" Jeffrey said, sweeping into a low bow.
Arrabella and Elizabeth both stood and curtsied to the earl, although Arrabella's was considerably lower. Their mother struggled to haul herself out of her chair.
"Please, stay seated, dear lady," Oxley said, striding into the room. He took Janet's hand and kissed it.
She giggled like a girl, and her ruddy cheeks darkened with her blush. "Thank you for gracing us with your illustrious presence, my lord," she said. "What a treat it is for me and my girls to dine with you today."
Elizabeth was surprised her mother didn't gag with so much sugary sweetness dripping from her lips.
"This is my aunt, Mistress Janet Buckley," Jeffrey said. "And these are her daughters, my cousins. Arrabella is the elder, and Elizabeth the younger."
Lord Oxley bowed to each in turn with an elaborate flourish of his hand. "Charming. Utterly charming. Tell me, Mistress Buckley, are you also related to Mistress Susanna Holt from Stoneleigh? She was married to a Lynden, was she not?"
