A Loving Spirit (24 page)

"Well, people do say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

Cassie laughed. "Who says that?"

"I am not sure. I think it was my mother, when she saw Lady Paige wearing a new bonnet in church that was almost exactly like her own."

She glanced once more over at where the shepherdess had stood, but she was quite gone. Cassie still thought it was very odd, but then she smiled up at Phillip and determined to concentrate on him, and him alone, for tonight. After all, this was their magical night, one they would tell their grandchildren about one day.

And it was certainly proving memorable so far. The music, the laughter of the guests, and the wonderful sensation of twirling about in the dance with Phillip, conspired to create a glittering entertainment. Cassie could not seem to cease smiling.

Yes, this was their night. Nothing, not even mischievous ghosts, could ruin it.

* * *

Louisa moved through the crowd, reveling in the feeling of being at a ball again. Usually Royce Castle was so quiet, with only the other ghosts for company. In her life, Louisa had been so fond of parties, just like this one. She hummed along with the music as she walked, smiling at the other guests and eyeing the bubbling, golden champagne enviously. But being solid only went so far. It probably did not permit drinking.

Even if it had, she needed to keep her wits about her if she was to foil Mr. Bates' plan. She looked over at Lady Lettice, who shook her head slightly. No, Mr. Bates was not there yet. Then she turned to Sir Belvedere, who was talking with Cassie's aunt. He also shook his head.

Where could the villain be? Louisa frowned. If he did not appear soon, their plan would have to change. They
could
foil him in their usual forms, but it would be harder.

She scanned over the rest of the company, carefully scrutinizing every man's disguise. A cardinal, a Louis XIV, a medieval prince, Shakespeare, a Cavalier...

She paused and looked back at that last one. He
was
dressed as a Cavalier from her own lifetime, his blue satin and white lace a perfect coordinate to the gown she had given Cassie. His long, dark hair fell from beneath a wide-brimmed, plumed hat, which concealed his features.

Then he turned his head and looked directly at her.

"No!" Louisa gasped aloud, startling the people who stood beside her. "It cannot be."

She took one step toward him, but he vanished.

And someone grabbed her shoulder from behind, pulling her away from the crowd. She twisted around to look, half-hoping, half-fearing...

It was not
him,
though. It was Mr. Bates. He wore a hooded domino, yet it was still easy to see who it was. His eyes burned through the eyeholes of his mask, and his grip on her was strong and angry.

Louisa longed to bash him on the head with her crook, but then she remembered she was meant to be Cassie, who had no idea about this plan. She put a look of confusion on her face and hoped her old skills at amateur theatricals had not left her.

"What is this?" she said softly, with a quiver of fear in her voice. She remembered to keep it pitched low and soft to disguise it. She made her shoulders shake beneath his hands. It should be easy to lull this thickheaded man into thinking he had a poor, weak female in his grasp. He was the sort who always underestimated women. "Who are you?"

"What, Miss Richards? You do not recognize me?" He sneered at her. "I suppose you thought you would never see me again."

"Mr. Bates?" she gasped. "Lord Royce told you never to come back here!"

"That
scholar
? He couldn't stop me, now, could he? Here I am." He laughed, a soft, humorless, chilling sound. Even Louisa, who had nothing to fear from him, shivered. "I see he has abandoned you to waltz with someone else. How ungallant."

"That is a friend of mine he is dancing with! And if you think..."

"Hush!" Mr. Bates squeezed her shoulder cruelly, and showed her a glimpse of a gleaming dagger hidden beneath his domino. "Stop chattering, woman. I do not have all night to stand here listening to you. Come along." He slid a hard arm around her waist, and tugged her along the short distance to the French doors leading to the terrace.

Louisa pretended to dig her heels in, while waving her crook in a signal to Lady Lettice and Sir Belvedere. "Where are you going? Do not do this, Mr. Bates, I beg you!"

"Be quiet!" he hissed, pulling her across the terrace and down the stone steps. "You will see soon enough."

Louisa feigned sobbing and protestations, but behind her mask she was secretly smiling. This was all turning out even better than she had hoped!

In all the excitement of her abduction, she quite forgot the Cavalier she had glimpsed so briefly in the ballroom.

Chapter 24

Mr. Bates pulled Louisa inexorably along the dark drive, leaving the lights and noise of the ball farther behind with every step. Louisa, though inwardly highly amused by the proceedings, did her very best to appear frightened and unsure. It was not hard to do; in her life, Louisa had been fond of amateur theatricals and had often acted in plays during house parties at Royce Castle. She was just happy to try the skill again.

In that vein, she gave a little whimper and said, "Why are you doing this? I do not understand! I thought we were friends."

His arm tightened on her waist as he half dragged, half carried her across the gravel. "Friends? A
friend
would have sold me the land. A
friend
would not have been so stubborn and unkind."

"Why do you need the land, anyway?" Louisa said, feigning confusion. "It is all I have left in Jamaica, while you possess so very much."

"So you think," he muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind. Just come along and quit chattering at me. There is the carriage just ahead."

The black, closed vehicle was half-hidden in the shadows at the edge of the drive, just outside the tall gates. A coachman, muffled in a dark cloak and a hat pulled low over his brow, sat on the box.

As they moved closer, the door opened, and Mr. Bates' cousin stuck his head out. "There you are at last! I thought I was going to have to come fetch you. Did you stop to indulge in some of the champagne?" He snickered.

"Very funny indeed. Our little guest here was late coming to the party." Mr. Bates lifted her off her feet and pushed her toward the carriage door.

As he did so, a voice called, "Here! What do you think you're doing?"

Louisa looked over Mr. Bates' shoulder to see a footman running down the drive in their direction.
Oh, how tiresome,
she thought. A rescue attempt would simply ruin everything.

Apparently, Mr. Bates felt the same way. He stuffed her unceremoniously into the carriage, causing her to lose her crook, and climbed in after her. "Drive, blast it!" he shouted at the coachman, and they took off down the lane with a jarring lurch.

Louisa landed atop Mr. Morland, who set her aright with more wandering hands and leering glances than the act strictly required.

Louisa snatched the bonnet off her head and glared at him from behind her mask. He just smirked back at her. She slid into the corner, as far away from him as she could get. Really, he was even more unpleasant than his cabbage-headed cousin.

"So, now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me?" she asked, smoothing her disarranged skirts.

"We are going to Gretna Green, my dear Miss Richards, where we will be married," Mr. Bates answered.

Admittedly, Louisa's geography was a bit rusty, but... "Isn't that rather far away?"

"You will be so hopelessly compromised by the time we reach there, that you will be
glad
to marry me," he said. He was obviously trying for an air of confidence, but Louisa sensed the uncertainty in him.

Really, she thought, it was just too easy. If he had succeeded in making off with the real Cassie, there would have been a thousand opportunities for her to escape between here and Scotland. This was not a very well-thought-out plan on Mr. Bates' part.

If there was anything worse than a villain, in Louisa's estimation, it was a stupid villain. It was just a good thing that soon he would be gone from England forever, and would bother no one with his nuisances again.

Except for the poor people of Jamaica, of course.

Louisa peered out the window, wondering idly when Sir Belvedere and Lady Lettice were going to make their appearances. Suddenly, much to her shock, Mr. Bates grabbed her arm and pulled her onto his lap.

"What are you doing?" she screamed as his wet lips found her bare neck. "Let go of me at once!"

"We might as well start the compromising now," he said, reaching for her skirt while his cousin laughed. "Just in case you have any idea of leaving us soon."

Louisa beat him over the head and shoulders with her bonnet. "Release me, you ridiculous looby!"

"Not just yet," he answered.

Absolutely furious, Louisa squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated very, very hard on her hair, and then on her entire body. Gradually, she felt the faint tingling sensation that meant she was moving from her temporary solid form back to her usual insubstantial state.

When Mr. Bates reached one of his meaty hands to her breast, he found no warm, yielding flesh. Only cold air.

He fell forward, his face turning from scarlet with lust to chalk-white with fear. His mouth opened, but no sound emerged. He just sat there, frozen, staring at her.

Mr. Morland edged back along the seat. "What is happening?"

Louisa took off her mask, sending her now-blond curls tumbling about her shoulders, and turned to look at him.

He gasped for air. "You—you are not Miss Richards!"

"Of course I am not. You stupid men snatched the wrong woman. My name is Louisa, but you may call me Lady Royce. You can find my actual self in the family crypt at St. Anne's Church, but I occasionally come back to pay calls on very special people. Like yourselves."

"As do I," said Lady Lettice, appearing on the seat next to Mr. Morland. "How do you do? I am Lady Lettice Leighton. And that is Angelo down there, beneath the seat. The one who is tying your ankles together."

Mr. Morland looked down, and saw that small hands were indeed busily engaged in tying his ankles. A wizened little face peeked up at him.

"Hello!" Angelo said merrily.

Mr. Morland screamed and fumbled at the door latch. "Stop the carriage right now! This moment!"

"Certainly, sir," Sir Belvedere's voice answered. "Your order is my command."

The carriage ground to a halt, and Mr. Morland finally got the door open and fell out onto the road. He pulled his still-speechless cousin with him, and the two of them ran as fast as they could into the darkness at the side of the road. Mr. Morland was forced to hop rather than strictly run, thanks to Angelo, but he was very fast nonetheless.

It was just as Louisa, Lady Lettice, and Sir Belvedere had planned.

Louisa laughed and laughed as she watched them fade away, the underbrush rustling until finally there was only silence. "Oh, I did enjoy that!" she said happily. "It was over much too quickly, though."

"Are you quite all right?" Lady Lettice asked. "We followed as quickly as we could, but we were not certain which direction you went in."

"I am perfectly well, even though that idiot tried to compromise me." Louisa put her head out to see Sir Belvedere sitting atop the box. "What happened to the coachman, Sir Belvedere?"

"Oh, we set him down about a mile past. He is sure to be at the village by now. He was so foxed I am sure he thought we were a hallucination. I am becoming an excellent driver, don't you think?"

"Superb," said Lady Lettice. "But if we sit about here all night, we shall miss the entire ball. I want to dance at least once."

"And so do I!" Louisa agreed heartily. She looked out the window as Sir Belvedere turned the carriage and set off toward the castle. "You do not think they will try to come back, do you?"

"Of course not. Didn't you see their expressions? They were frightened out of their wits. What little wits they possess, that is." Lady Lettice lifted up the little mirror at her belt and examined her coiffure. "I think, my dear Louisa, that we should resolidify before we reach the castle, if we want to dance without frightening all the guests."