“Come. Perhaps we should go upstairs to my chamber.” Lydia glanced at the drawing room door. Her sister-in-law, Arabella, looked for any opportunity to cause mischief. One whiff of Ada’s ridiculous story and fit of hysterics and the young maid would find herself banished to the scullery.
Ada nodded, and they mounted the stairs with haste.
Once nestled safely inside the bedchamber, Lydia deposited the maid in the chair and waited for the poor girl’s shoulders to relax before broaching the subject again.
“Did this devil have a name?” Lydia suspected Seth had a grievance with a man in town and merely spoke metaphorically.
“Seth just said the devil was back to rain fire and brimstone.”
“Back?” The word caught thick and heavy in Lydia’s throat. Curiosity burned. “Back from where?”
Ada shrugged. “Wherever it is, Seth said his face has a golden glow like he’s been keeping watch over the fiery pits of hell for the whole time he’s been gone.”
The whole time he’s been gone?
So this devil was native to the area.
The first flicker of suspicion sparked.
“I imagine the man”—for he was a man and not a devil—“has spent a considerable amount of time abroad. The sun has caused his bronzed complexion, not the flames from the burning corpses of sinners.”
Ada gave a little whimper, and Lydia chided herself for not choosing her words more carefully. The maid would have nightmares tonight. Of that she was certain.
“Wherever he’s been, miss, he’s back now. And I don’t imagine it’s to dance around the maypole and take tea with the vicar.”
He’s back.
A sudden gust of wind rattled the shutters and howled at the window. An ominous warning that something sinister was afoot. Lydia shivered. Only one man had a heart black enough to survive in the underworld. Only one man might be mistaken for Satan.
No!
It couldn’t be.
“Fifty coaches pass through here every day while travelling between London and Brighton,” Lydia said, clutching on to the hope that this was merely a figment of Ada’s wild imagination. “What’s to say Seth hasn’t made a mistake, and this fellow has business elsewhere?”
What’s to say Seth wasn’t in his cups when he concocted the ridiculous story?
Doubt crept into Lydia’s mind.
What if every word from Seth’s mouth was true?
What if the rogue had returned?
Him.
Greystone.
Bane of her existence.
The mere thought roused a fiery heat in the pit of her stomach. By God, after what he’d done, she would whip him with a birch if he even tried to offer an explanation. Give her five minutes with the devil—for Greystone was indeed a soulless creature—and he’d be on his hands and knees scrambling to get back to his earthy grave.
Lydia drew in a deep breath to ease her pounding heart. The maid’s hysteria was contagious. Then again, the impending assembly had already set Lydia on edge.
The assembly!
Lydia glanced at the window. It was almost six o’clock, and dusk was already upon them. She should be bathing in preparation for the event, not daydreaming about Lord Greystone’s return.