Bewitching the Duke

With a breath for courage, Selina ran for the salvation the enormous house would bring her. As they raced past Randall, David yelled at him to get out of the pond. Once they reached the terrace, Selina stopped near a statue of Venus. She caught her breath and noticed Mr. Roberts standing by the terrace door. He waved for her to come inside.

“The duke is in his study,” Mr. Roberts said as he ushered her up the back staircase.

“Why does he lock himself inside?”

“I believe when things are troubling him, he may take to the spirits.”

Her heart went out to the man who mourned his wife so deeply that after eight years, he still couldn’t get over her. She wondered if his upcoming marriage was only out of duty to produce an heir. How sad that his new wife would never know the love he gave to his first wife.

What was wrong with her? This was the man who had evicted her from her home and she was feeling sorry for him! Not for a moment longer, she decided. Some people might consider her softhearted, but she would harden her heart where he was concerned. He hadn’t a thought for her, and she would do the same for him.

She followed Mr. Roberts up the stairs to a third-floor bedroom. He opened the door to what might be a bright room . . . on a different day. She glanced out the window and noticed the clouds had finally given way to the rain they held.

“Here you are, miss,” Mr. Roberts said with a kind smile. “When the duke is out of the house, you’re free to come down. I’ll have a footman send up a tray for your meals.”

“What if one of the tenants needs me?”

“All the footmen who watch the door know you are here. It’s only those snooty London men we need to watch out for. If you are needed at a home, we’ll let you know straightaway.”

“Thank you, Mr. Roberts.”

“If you need anything, just ring.” Mr. Roberts closed the door behind him, cloaking her in her secret chamber.

Selina smiled as she looked at the bed that would be hers for a short while. The cherry four-poster bed was huge compared to the small bed in her cottage. The bedchamber was nearly as big as her entire home. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would be like to live in this luxury every day. She couldn’t imagine having a maid wake her in the morning with a cup of chocolate on a tray. Or dressing in fine silk gowns for a ball.

She wasn’t meant for that type of life.

As she glanced about, she realized that while beautiful, this room was her prison for the next two months. While Mr. Roberts had told her she could come downstairs if the duke was out, she really didn’t have access to the rest of the house. She couldn’t entertain her friends in here.

But it would all be worth it, she tried to convince herself.

Once he left for London with his bride, she would be free again.

Colin walked out toward the reflecting pond as darkness settled over the estate. He’d lived alone for the past eight years, other than when his stepmother and sister paid a visit. After the first year of mourning, he had not come to enjoy the solitude, but he at least could tolerate it. So why did he feel such dreaded loneliness at this estate?

Was it just the idea that his wife had died here? Or could there possibly be more to his morose feelings tonight?

It certainly wasn’t because he’d made Miss White leave.

She needed to be gone while he was here. He needed no reminders of eight years ago. There were enough memories here that would never leave. And he needed the temptation she brought as far away as possible. He’d promised himself that he would never put his heart at risk again. While he doubted he could fall in love with such a woman, he did desire her.

He sipped the last of his brandy and placed the snifter on the concrete edge of the pond. For a long moment, he stared up at the stars. He wondered if there were any other planets out there like this. Was there another man a million miles away staring up at the stars wondering the same thing? Colin shook his head. Perhaps that third brandy was one too many tonight.

He glanced back at the house as a candle flickered from a third-floor bedroom. Who would be there at this hour? He had never asked his servants to clean round the clock in preparation for the wedding. As he watched, a figure dressed in white passed in front of the window. The woman didn’t stop long enough for him to make out who it might be but he knew whoever it was, she was not one of the elderly servants he had in service.

As he stared up at the window, the figure passed by the window again. She moved swiftly, unlike most of the servants in the house, so he discounted the idea that one of them might be upstairs. He knew exactly who that woman was . . . Mary. Or rather, the ghost of Mary. There was no other logical explanation, not that believing in spirits held much logic. He stared up at the window, unable to look away. The specter never returned to the window and within a few moments, the room went dark.

The house was more than just a vessel for bad memories. It contained her spirit. She’d never left. No wonder he always felt so uncomfortable in the house.

Having this wedding here was a dreadful idea. Perhaps he could write to Kate and tell her so. Not that he could inform her that the house was haunted. She would think he needed to spend some time at Bedlam.

And perhaps he had.

But there was no other explanation for seeing a woman in the room upstairs. Either she was a ghost or he really had gone mad. Both thoughts left him cold.

He had to find out what was going on up there. He raced up the two flights of stairs and then stopped in the hall. Thinking back, he couldn’t remember exactly in which, of the many windows, he had seen the appariti

on. He stood still and listened. Not a sound could be heard from any of the rooms. No chains rattling, no footsteps, or moaning. Absolute silence filled the area. As if to prove he wasn’t mad, he opened the doors to two bedchambers and found nothing but dark rooms with white coverings.