The Virgin Who Vindicated Lord Darlington

by Anna Bradley

  It wasn’t terribly bright, the sky being dark with snow, but after the tunnel it took a few moments for Cecilia’s eyes to adjust. Once they did, she knew where she was at first glance.

  She’d come out just beyond the wall that surrounded the kitchen garden. From here one could easily disappear into the rose walk without being seen, and from there to the edge of the tree line and into the woods beyond. She fell back a bit, stumbling on the step as the pieces of the puzzle clicked suddenly into place.

  Of course. The mysterious lantern light weaving among the trees in the wood, the White Lady with her filmy gown, scarlet lips, and pale face, who always appeared near the tree line, and then seemed to disappear as if into thin air when she neared the kitchen garden. The Darlington Castle ghost, the specter all of Edenbridge believed to float on air and vanish at will, was making use of a secret passageway leading from the edge of the rose walk into the castle.

  A secret passageway only a person who’d spent a great deal of time at Darlington Castle could possibly know about. Not Gideon, who’d only come to live here after his brother’s death.

  No, someone else. Someone who knew every inch of Darlington Castle, and every hidden door leading into and out of it. Someone who was in a position to have a key to those doors, and might unlock them at will, just as she pleased.

  Someone like Lady Leanora.

  Cecilia swept her gaze over her surroundings again, and noticed something else.

  Footprints in the snow.

  Not just human footprints, but neat little paw prints, of the sort that might belong to a dainty, fastidious feline who’d found a secret way into Darlington Castle that led from the kitchen garden, past the stillroom, and straight to…

  Cassandra’s bedchamber.

  There was a hidden door that led from the secret passageway into Cassandra’s bedchamber—there had to be. That was why it was always so cold in there. It must be in the dressing room. Perhaps behind the clothes press?

  Cecilia’s shaking fingers clenched into fists as everything fell into place at once. Lady Leanora had brought the blue ball gown, the embroidered shoes and the sapphire hairpins into Cassandra’s bedchamber. They hadn’t been there all along, as Cecilia had thought, and Gideon hadn’t put them there.

  Lady Leanora had had the run of the castle from the very start.

  It was the only explanation, and it explained everything. Seraphina’s mysterious comings and goings , for one, but it was more than that.

  The secret passageway was the means by which someone had accessed Cassandra’s sick room without anyone else in the castle knowing she was there.

  Gideon wasn’t the only person who’d brought Cassandra refreshment in those last months before she died. He was simply the only one who’d been seen doing so. All the while, someone else—someone who wished to see Cassandra and her unborn child harmed—had also had access to her.

  It would have been the easiest thing in the world for that person to bring Cassandra a cup of pennyroyal tea every night, and stay with her while she drank it down. A person Cassandra believed would never hurt her, despite the resentment between them.

  A person she trusted, like her cousin, Lady Leanora.

  The last person in the world she should have trusted.

  Lady Leanora was far more dangerous than Gideon suspected. She was a murderer, and all the time they’d thought themselves safe, she’d been roaming about the castle. Why, she might have snatched Isabella at any time, carried her off while they slept—

  She might have, but she hadn’t. Fear clawed at Cecilia’s throat as the full force of this truth slammed into her. If Lady Leanora hadn’t returned to Darlington Castle to take Isabella, why had she returned? Who did she intend to hurt this time?

  There was no time to consider it now. She had to find Gideon. Cecilia snatched at the iron ring to close the door, but she stopped it from slamming shut at the last minute.

  Something else caught her eye, something…strange.

  She’d been staring at the footprints in the snow all this time, but she hadn’t made sense of what she was seeing until now. Seraphina’s tidy little paw prints were marching in a neat line away from the castle. They pointed toward the wood, but the corresponding human prints in the snow pointed in the other direction.

  Into the castle.

  Lady Leanora must have entered the castle last night, after the snow had accumulated enough to make her footprints visible. But unless she truly was a ghost, and had found a way to walk in the snow without leaving any prints, then she hadn’t come back out this way again.

  Which meant…Lady Leanora was inside the castle.

  Inside with Duncan, Isabella, Amy, and Mrs. Briggs, and they had no idea she was there.

  Dear God. She had to get them out at once, while at the same time doing all she could to keep Lady Leanora in, just long enough for Gideon to be found. Lady Leanora would try and escape through the passageway, but if it were sealed, and she became trapped…

  It would put an end to the White Lady haunting Darlington Castle.

  Cecilia turned and fled back down the passageway, her footsteps echoing on the stone floor. She was breathless by the time she burst back through the door into the stillroom and ran into the kitchen. In a stroke of good luck, Duncan was sitting at the kitchen table, stuffing a piece of buttered bread into his mouth.

  “Duncan, thank goodness!” Cecilia fell against the table, panting.

  “Miss Cecilia, ye near scared the life out of me!” Duncan shot to his feet, his eyes going wide. “What’s wrong? Ye look peculiar, like ye seen a ghost.”

  “Not yet, but perhaps soon, with any luck. Come with me.” Cecilia took him by the arm and dragged him to the back of the stillroom, where the crates were stacked near the open door. “Listen to me carefully, Duncan. There’s a passageway on the other side of this door. Follow it to the end, and you’ll find a door set into the ceiling. It’s held open with a branch. Go through that door, and see to it it’s sealed from the outside. Once you’ve done that, go and find Gid—that is, Lord Darlington, and bring him back to the castle at once. Tell him it’s urgent.”

  Duncan gaped at her with his mouth open. “But—”

  “Quickly, Duncan.”

  Whatever Duncan saw on her face made him snap his mouth closed. He turned without a word and disappeared into the passageway at a run. Cecilia bolted the door behind him, cutting off access to the stillroom, then ran for the stairs.

  Isabella and Amy were likely in Isabella’s bedchamber, readying for her nap, and Mrs. Briggs…she hadn’t the vaguest idea where Mrs. Briggs was. She could be anywhere in this enormous castle. If she was alone, and Lady Leanora caught her unawares…

  Cecilia sucked in a ragged breath, panic threatening, but she shoved it down, and forced herself to focus on one thing at a time. First, she’d find Isabella and Amy. Once she did, Amy could help her push the clothes press in Cassandra’s dressing room flush against the wall to block that escape into the secret passageway. Then they’d find Mrs. Briggs and leave the castle together. With any luck, Duncan would return with Gideon soon afterward, and all would be well.

  She rushed up the stairs to the second-floor landing, but stopped there, a strange feeling sweeping over her. Later, she wouldn’t be able to say if she’d simply sensed something was amiss, or if she’d heard something, nor would she recall making her way down the corridor to Cassandra’s bedchamber.

  But she would remember the sickening drop of her stomach when she opened the door.

  The White Lady was hovering in the archway that led to Cassandra’s dressing room, the candle in her hand casting a pool of light around her, lending an unearthly glow to her painted face. She wore the white gown the villagers had described, her dark hair hidden beneath a silvery-white wig.

  But it wasn’t her gown or her wig or even her ghostly white face th
at caught Cecilia’s attention. It was her blue eyes, as cold as ice, and glittering with madness.

  A blinding diamond, so bright it hurt to look at her—

  “Good evening, Cecilia. It’s kind of you to come, rather than making me search for you.” Lady Leanora’s scarlet lips split into an arrogant smile. “Then again, you are a servant, after all.”

  Cecilia couldn’t have said why, but instinct urged her to drop into a respectful curtsy. “Good evening, Lady Leanora.”

  Lady Leanora’s blue eyes flashed. “I’m the sixth Marchioness of Darlington, and mother to the future heir, while you…you’re nothing but Gideon’s whore.”

  Cecilia’s head snapped back at the ugly words. Lady Leanora knew Gideon had taken Cecilia to his bed? Oh God, had she seen them together? Had she watched?

  “Did you think I didn’t know?” Lady Leanora’s red lips curled in a sneer. “I confess I was fooled at first. I didn’t realize Gideon wasn’t in love with that foolish Honeywell creature until after I chased her off. It’s been you all along, hasn’t it?”

  Cecilia opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out.

  “The trouble with you, Cecilia, is you won’t leave,” Leanora went on, edging closer to Cassandra’s bed as she spoke. “I thought a night spent freezing in the kitchen garden would do it, but you’re cleverer than that Honeywell chit, and you found a way out. You understand, then, that I have to find another way to get rid of you.”

  With that, Leanora lowered her arm, and casually, as if she were buckling her shoes, she touched the candle flame to Cassandra’s coverlet.

  “No!” Cecilia screamed, but before she could move, before she even had a chance to draw a breath, the heavy silk coverlet caught fire.

  “Oh, yes, I’m afraid so.” Leanora turned to the windows, and brought the candle within inches of the drapes.

  “Wait!” Cecilia thrust her hands out in front of her. “I’ll leave Darlington Castle, just as you want.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I don’t believe you will, and in any case, it’s too late for—” Lady Leanora broke off, her gaze darting to the door.

  Cecilia dimly registered the sound of feet pounding in the hallway. The lock on Cassandra’s door rattled, and in the next moment someone threw the door open. “Cecilia! What in the world—”

  “Don’t come any closer, Amy.” Cecilia never took her eyes off Lady Leanora, but she held out her hand behind her, a warning to Amy to stay back. “Fetch Isabella and Mrs. Briggs, and leave the castle.”

  “No! I can’t…I won’t leave you—”

  “Listen to me, Amy.” Cecilia heard the thread of hysteria in Amy’s voice, and struggled to keep her own voice calm. “You and Mrs. Briggs must take Isabella out of the castle at once. Do you understand me? I’ll be right behind you.”

  Amy was sobbing now, but after a pause in which Cecilia prayed harder than she’d ever prayed before, she heard Amy’s retreating footsteps, and a door being thrown open at the other end of the hallway.

  “See? Clever, just as I said.” Lady Leanora’s smile was strangely benevolent, but her eyes were pure, blue ice as she hovered the lit end of the taper inches away from the silk drapes. “I think it’s best if we keep this business between us.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “What will you do with yourself, once we’ve caught your ghost, Darlington?” Haslemere blew on his gloved hands to warm them, releasing a cloud of frosty breath. “Kent will be dull enough without a haunting to keep you busy.”

  They’d ridden out early to the northernmost edge of the grounds in search of the ghost. Gideon didn’t expect they’d find her so far from the castle, but this morning they’d sent Haslemere’s men out in pairs to search the western, eastern, and southern borders of the property nonetheless, with orders to reconvene at the edge of the forest this afternoon.

  By the time the sun set this evening, not a single acre of Darlington earth would remain unturned. If the White Lady was on his grounds, they’d find her. Gideon released a breath, some of the tension in his shoulders easing as they neared the tree line leading to the formal grounds. The closer he remained to the castle and its inhabitants, the easier he was.

  He turned to Haslemere with a shrug. “I’ve had enough excitement these past few months.” A ghost, a haunted castle, a broken engagement, and a heart full of love, beating once again. “The duller Kent is, the better.”

  “Oh, I imagine you’ll find some way to pass the time.” Haslemere darted a sly glance at Gideon. “Tell me, how does Cecilia do this morning, Darlington? She’s recovered from last night’s ordeal, I hope?”

  More than recovered, judging by her, ah…enthusiasm this morning. Gideon’s cock ached every time he thought of her soft lips and the brush of her hair against his skin. So he did his best not to think of her, as he didn’t choose to spend a day in the saddle battling a persistent erection. “She seemed well enough. I only saw her for a moment.”

  Haslemere snorted. “A memorable moment, by the looks of you today.”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” Gideon replied, pinching his lips together. There were times when Haslemere’s acute powers of perception were a great nuisance.

  “Not a thing.” Haslemere gave an innocent shrug. “Unless it’s that you’re a damned fool if you don’t declare your love for her, make her your marchioness, and be done with it, that’s all.”

  A half-hearted protest rose to Gideon’s lips. Not because he didn’t intend to make Cecilia his marchioness, but because she should be the first person to hear him say it, not Haslemere. “I wasn’t going to—”

  “Of course, you were. For God’s sake, Darlington. Do you think I don’t recognize that absurd, besotted expression on your face?” Haslemere laughed. “We’ve known each other since Eton.”

  “You’re a bloody menace, Haslemere. You do know that?”

  “I’m aware, yes. It’s good fun, being a menace.”

  Gideon’s lips twitched. “Your talents are wasted in Kent. London must miss their most dashing rake by now. I thought I’d take Cecilia there, after we’re married.” He was looking forward to exploring the city with her. He used to love London, before he became the Murderous Marquess. Perhaps if he saw it through Cecilia’s eyes, he could learn to love it again. “She’s never been.”

  Haslemere shot him an uneasy look. “Yes, er…about that, Darlington.”

  Gideon frowned. “What is it?”

  “Well, the thing is…damn it, this is deuced awkward, Darlington, but Cecilia is…that is, she isn’t quite who you imagined she—”

  “Lord Darlington!”

  Gideon was staring at Haslemere, but now he snapped his head around, his brow furrowing. That had sounded like Duncan’s voice, but he’d given explicit orders for Duncan to remain at Darlington Castle today—

  “Lord Darlington,” the voice called again. “My lord, wait!”

  Gideon caught a glimpse of red hair, and alarm rose in his chest. It was Duncan, in the last place he should be, galloping toward them from the direction of the castle, waving his hat over his head to catch Gideon’s attention. “Something’s wrong, Haslemere.”

  “Miss Cecilia sent me,” Duncan panted, leaning over his horse’s neck and struggling to catch his breath. “She bid me to fetch you at once, my lord. There’s something amiss up at the castle, and—”

  “Christ, Darlington. Look.”

  Gideon turned at the cold dread in Haslemere’s voice, and found his friend staring at the castle in horror. “What? I don’t see—” But in the next breath he did see, and his heart gave a sickening lurch in his chest. Smoke was issuing in a thin, black stream from one of the second floor windows.

  Cassandra’s bedchamber window. Her apartments—the apartments attached to Cecilia and Isabella’s bedchamber—were on fire. For a frozen moment Gideon could only gape at that ominous
thread of smoke, his throat working. “Where is everyone, Duncan? Are they—”

  “They’ve all gotten out, my lord. I looked back when I rode off to fetch ye, and I saw them all gathered on the drive.”

  Gideon snatched up Duncan’s reins, jerking his horse closer so he could look directly into Duncan’s eyes. “All of them? Are you absolutely certain of it, Duncan?”

  Duncan swallowed. “I didna get a close look, but I-I think so, my lord.”

  “Fetch the rest of your men, Haslemere, and bring them back to the castle to help us fight the blaze.”

  Haslemere shot off in the direction of the woods, snow and bits of torn ground flying from his horse’s hooves. Gideon took off toward the castle at a flat run, Duncan right behind him, but the castle seemed to recede into the distance with his horse’s every stride. His gaze was locked on the window, his lips moving in a prayer to a God who’d taken his wife and son from him—a God Gideon believed had long ago forsaken him.

  Please. Please don’t take them, too.

  As they drew closer, he began counting heads, the frantic prayers still pouring from his lips. Mrs. Briggs, and Amy, with Isabella clutched in her arms, and Fraser beside her, yes, they were there, four of them were there, but—

  Cecilia. She was missing.

  Gideon leapt from his horse before he’d brought him to a stop. “Cecilia? Where is she?”

  Amy whirled around at the sound of his voice. She was sobbing as if her heart were torn apart, tears streaming down her cheeks. “The White Lady! S-she’s got Cecilia trapped with her in Lady Cassandra’s bedchamber! I didn’t want to leave her there, my lord, b-but she begged me to get Isabella and Mrs. Briggs out—”

  Gideon didn’t wait to hear more, but burst through the doorway and into the entrance hall. The fire hadn’t spread to the ground floor, and there wasn’t much smoke yet. Wild hope flared in his chest. There was still time to get Cecilia out.