Laurie Brown (7 page)

“Critique is not criticism. One cannot improve without knowing what one is doing wrong.”

“Again semantics. What were you even doing there? Amelia doesn’t want you to be seen or heard.”

“Obviously I wasn’t. Not by anyone other than you.”

“And why is that?”

“I haven’t a notion.”

“You promised to answer all my questions.”

“To the best of my ability.”

“Meaning?”

“I have no answer.Always before anyone and everyone could see me to the degree I chose to materialize.”

“What do you mean by
degree?
” Josie reached for her notebook, only to realize she must have left her reticule in the parlor with her fan. Didn’t Regency
women understand the value of pockets?

“Pockets would ruin the line of your dress.”

“I thought you couldn’t read my mind.”

Deverell rolled his eyes. “Your thoughts were transparent to the most casual observer. You reached to your left wrist for
something that wasn’t there. What would be hanging from your arm other than your reticule with your notebook? Then you patted
your side where your usual modern attire of a jacket would have a pocket.A little huff of breath signaled your frustration.The
interpretation is obvious.”

“Fine,” Josie said, stifling her sigh of relief so he wouldn’t read anything into it. “Now what about your degree-of-materialization
comment?”

“Ah, yes. Back to the research.”

“It’s the reason I’m here.”

He cleared his throat. “As I told you before, everything I do uses energy.”

“Of which you have a finite amount.”

“Yes. As with many things I have attempted to do, full materialization uses a lot of energy. On a scale of zero to one hundred,
I usually spend the majority of time in a five-percent materialization that uses very little energy.To an observer I would
appear to be a shadow, or a wisp of smoke, or a stray beam of sunlight. Unremarkable.”

“So a person who saw you would dismiss it.”

“Correct. But I still maintain a presence and move from room to room as I desire. If I want to be seen, I can partially materialize.”

“Does that mean partial like just your head or just a hand? Or like a...a...”

“Ghostly image? Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Both. Either. The answer to your question is yes.”

Josie was sure she’d rather not see just his head or other body parts, and she told him so.

“It does save energy.”

“I don’t care. It’s just too creepy.” Then it occurred to her to ask, “What happens if you run out of energy?”

“Zero. Nothingness. Blackness.”

When she saw the bleak look in his eyes, she immediately regretted bringing up the topic.“How long does it last?” she asked,
knowing he would read her sympathy in her tone of voice.

He shrugged off his distress. “I do try to avoid that particular situation, however it has happened in the past without a
discernible pattern of recovery. Five years. Twenty years. What matters a few years when I have eternity?”

Josie shivered, and this time she couldn’t blame the weather.

“In anticipation of your next question,” Deverell continued, “the last time was when Amelia was a young woman. I blinked out
of existence, and when I came to myself again, forty-five years had passed.”

“Maybe that wasn’t what I would have asked,” Josie said even though he was right.

“Liar. Do you know you blink three times after you tell a lie?

“What percent were you manifested when I could see you, but the others could not?”

“The usual. About five percent.”

“What did you do differently?”

He barked out a laugh. “Typical woman’s response.Why are my actions in question? I should think your ability to see me has
more to do with you than with me.What did
you
do differently?”

“Nothing. What could I have done? I don’t have the option of appearing or not appearing as the whim strikes me. I was there
to learn to dance per your blasted list. Why were you there?”

“As your instructor...”

“Cecily and Ian did just fine without your help. They are the experts.”

“Bah! What better expert than one who actually attended the assemblies and danced the dances they cobble together from bits
and pieces? Research cannot recreate the excitement of a ball.After weeks of expectation, the evening finally arrives. Everyone
dressed in their finest. The ballroom decorated in some theme or other and lit with thousands of candles. The joy of hearing
music once again after the long silence of the countryside.The anticipation of meeting that one....”

The faraway look of longing in his eyes told her more about the importance of balls to Regency society than any number of
Cecily’s lectures could.

“Or so some would say.” Deverell brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve. “Actually, after the first few, balls
were nothing more than an interminable evening of ceaseless posturing and gossip. An arcane ritual propagated by matchmaking
mammas, whose only goal was to find rich and titled husbands for their daughters, or suitably demure wives for their sons.”

“So how come you never married?”

“It wasn’t for lack of trying on my mother’s part.

Even though I had perfectly valid heirs in two younger cousins, she was determined to shackle me to some insipid miss. I did
plan to marry eventually. I just never...”

“Expected to die?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone dies. I didn’t marry because I never met a woman worth my freedom, that’s all.”

“From what I’ve read, it was the woman, not the man, who gave up everything by getting married.”

“Easy to say from the perspective of hindsight.” Josie was taken aback. “Are you admitting I’m right?”

“Perish the thought. Although few, there were certain expectations married men met.”

“Such as keeping their liaisons discreet rather then flaunting them?”

“A gentleman does not flaunt...anything. I referred to providing for his wife and subsequent family, keeping an appropriate
home, hosting and escorting, doing one’s duty. Everything designed to limit a man’s free time as well as to sap his pocketbook.
Resources a single man uses in the pursuit of his pleasure.”

“Well, that hasn’t changed.”

“Nor should it.”

“At least now a single woman has the same option.”

“And what pleasures do you pursue, Miss Drummond?”

“My work,” she answered with only the slightest hesitation.

“Josie? Miss Josie?”

Deverell faded to his aura state just as Emma came around the corner.

“Lady Amelia wondered whether you wanted to say good-bye to the Smythes.They’re all packed up and ready to leave.”

“Of course.” Josie stood and followed the maid.

She hesitated at the door and looked back over her shoulder. Deverell stood near the cozy alcove. From somewhere he’d produced
a smoking cheroot and his signature brandy, the picture of a suave gentleman. He raised his glass in salute.

“What a lovely, intriguing liar,” he said after she’d gone inside. But he wasn’t sure whether she’d been lying to him or to
herself.And he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to know.

He took a deep gulp of his drink, wishing he could feel its warming effect. If he wasn’t careful that woman would—no he couldn’t
even think that.

Best move up his timetable. Better to get this over with before...before what?

He flicked the tasteless cigar over the stone balustrade.

Before he wasted more energy on useless pursuits.

Five

J
OSIE SAT AT THE DESK IN THE LIBRARY, MAKING
a list of the questions she wanted to ask Deverell. Although it would be easy to blame him for the limited information she’d
gathered so far, she knew the blame belonged squarely on her own shoulders. She had allowed him to sidetrack her. She’d allowed
herself to be distracted by his smile, the amused twinkle in his eyes when he baited her into another argument.

She would have to fight that little thrill of excitement she felt in his presence, that curl of warmth when he appeared. She
could easily become addicted to that tingle, and then where would she be? When the week was over and his grand plan failed,
she would return to her life never to see him again.There was no future in being attracted to a ghost.

Not that she was attracted to him or anything like that. She was just flattered that he seemed to be interested in her thoughts,
her feelings.That’s all.

She would stick to her research. No more tangents. She looked at her list of questions and crossed off those that pertained
to his life before death. She was interested in the now. How did he renew his depleted energy? Did he sleep?

“Where is that butler? I rang for tea at least five minutes ago.” Amelia set aside her gardening magazine and stood. Rather
than use the bellpull again, she picked up the phone. She paused before pushing the button to call downstairs. “What’s his
name? Higgins? Hiddens?”

“Higdon,” Deverell provided as he appeared in his leather chair. “He will be along soon.”

Amelia set down the receiver.“I’m afraid he isn’t working out.”

“Give the lad a chance.”

“But he doesn’t know his job.”

“He’ll learn. If fact, I’ve written out instructions.” He pulled several sheets of paper from his breast pocket, and Josie
could not suppress a groan of empathy for the younger man.

Amelia did not take the papers.“Perhaps we should get a replacement from the employment agency...”

“I did not hire him through an employment agency,” Deverell muttered.

A sudden horrifying thought occurred to Josie. “Did you transport...”

“No, I did not transport him from another time or place.”

Josie sagged back into her chair in relief—as if she’d needed further proof that Deverell could not do what he said he could.

“Then where did you find him?” Amelia asked. Deverell shifted in his chair as if uncomfort- able having to explain his methods.
“I did call an agency that specifically handles butlers and was told, quite rudely as a matter of fact, they do not take temporary
assignments. After I thought about it, though, it made sense. Since we only needed someone for a week, I was forced to think
creatively.”

“So where did you find him?”Amelia asked again.

“Through a theatrical agency.”

“An actor?”

“For a young man he has quite an impressive resume.”

“You hired an actor to play the part of our butler? Oh,my. The cost must...”

“I am not unmindful of your pocketbook, my dear. Higdon is doing it for room and board. He is, and I quote, up for a major
part in a film. According to our phone interview, he thinks on-the-job training will help him nail the motivation.Though it
is beyond me why anyone would make a film about a butler named Jeeves...”

Amelia coughed.“Obviously you haven’t gotten to the
W
s in the library. Jeeves is...”

“A gentleman’s gentleman.Yes, I am aware of that and also quite aware of the difference between that and a butler, hence the
extensive list I’ve provided for his edification.”

Josie was about to ask Deverell about the differences when there was a knock on the door.When Amelia called permission to
enter, he went into his aura state where other people couldn’t see him, though for some reason she still could.

“You rang?” Higdon said in a sonorous voice reminiscent of Lurch, the butler on
The Addams Family
.

“We’ll have our tea now,” Amelia said.

“Very good.” He bowed and reached for the handle as he backed out the door.

“Before you go, here’s a list of some things you may need to know.” Amelia held out the papers Deverell had prepared.

Higdon stepped forward. “Thank you.” He scanned the pages.“Oh,wow! This is way cool,” he said dropping his formal persona.

“Perhaps you can study those in private,”Amelia suggested, not unkindly. “After serving tea?”

“Yes, of course.” He stuffed the pages into his pocket.“My apologies. I’ll be back in a jiff. I mean, very good, madam.” He
backed out the door in a proper fashion, although he could not entirely erase the smile from his face.

“That was very nice of you,”Josie said to Deverell.

“Thank you,” Amelia answered.

Deverell nodded his head in recognition of her compliment, and Josie thought she detected a slight blush as he rematerialized
so that Amelia could see him, too.

“Now that we’ve taken care of that, we can get back to the important issues,” he said.

Josie picked up her list of questions and joined Amelia on the sofa. “Exactly what I was going to say. First question. How
do you...”

“Before you start another Inquisition,” Deverell interrupted.

Josie bit her tongue to keep from responding to his verbal bait and going off on some religious tangent.

“After tea, I’ve arranged for the carriage to be brought around at four forty-five.We’re going for a drive.”

“Oh, dear,” Amelia said. “I have the contractor coming to look at the south wing and give a repair estimate.”

“We can go for a drive some other time,” Josie said. Like maybe never, she thought. She had not been near a horse since her
riding accident, and she didn’t intend to start now.

“The horses are in need of exercise. Miss Drummond and I will have to manage without your company.”

Josie was in the middle of framing her decline using the old standby headache for a reason when Amelia spoke up with a better
excuse.

“In the spirit of the Regency, it is highly inappropriate for her to go for a drive alone with a man.”

Josie could see where the whole chaperone bit might come in handy when a woman didn’t want to do something.

“Not applicable in this case.After all I am a ghost, not a man. I am quite positive Miss Drummond will use the time alone
to badger me with questions about my existence just as if you were there, perhaps more so since there will be no distractions.”

A knock on the door signaled Higdon’s return with tea.

“And no interruptions,” Deverell added as he faded to a hazy presence.

Josie glanced down at her list of unanswered questions. Inside the carriage she would have Deverell’s undivided attention.
“I’ll be ready,” she said before she could have second thoughts about whether that was a good thing.

If he weren’t still visible to her, Deverell would have rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. Not being able to disappear
was quite disconcerting. He’d rather gotten used to being an unseen observer whenever he chose. But that was neither here
nor there. The important fact was that the situation was now neatly arranged just as he had planned.

He stood and bowed to her before leaving the library. He had a few final details to attend to.

Miss Drummond would not get the drive she was expecting.

Josie had second thoughts as she stepped outside. The weather had turned nasty and a wicked storm threatened. However, Deverell
did not seem concerned as he stood near the horses.

“Step lively,” he said. “We want to miss the downpour.”

The coachman, oblivious to Deverell’s presence, stoically held the carriage door open, fighting the wind that not only threatened
to slam the door shut but also tried to rip the bonnet off her head. Although she would’ve gladly let the darn hat go flying,
she hurried into the carriage, only to find one seat piled high with boxes and wrapped bundles. What was Deverell up to now?

Regardless of his plans, she was determined not to miss a moment of this opportunity. She settled onto the rear-facing seat
and withdrew her list of questions from her reticule.

Deverell popped onto the seat next to her just as a bolt of lightning sizzled through the air, causing the hair on her arms
to rise.The flash was accompanied by an earsplitting clap of thunder.The carriage jerked forward.

“Perfect timing,” Deverell said, slapping his knee.

Josie reached for something to hold on to, finding a loop of leather next to the door.The window covering flapped in the wind,
not only allowing in the cold rain but also allowing her to see the coachman running after them down the curved driveway.

“Oh my God. There’s the driver.”

“We’ll be fine.”

The coach picked up speed, jostling her back and forth.“We’re in a runaway coach!”

“Just for another minute or two and then everything will be fine,” he assured her.

She held on to the strap with both hands. How could he remain so calm? Their lives were in danger. Or rather hers was. He
was already dead.Was that his intention? To have her killed just to avoid a few questions?

The coach picked up speed on the straight stretch of drive leading to the long curve by the gatehouse. Everything vibrated:
the seat, the walls. Several packages fell to the floor.

“Do something. Stop this coach.”

“What would you have me do, my dear? Climb up top and grab the reins?”

“For starters. Before this contraption flips over or rattles to pieces.”

Another flash of lightning and crash of thunder shook the carriage.

“It will hold. I know it will hold,” Deverell muttered. “Please hold together,” he said, closing his eyes as if in prayer.

She decided that if he wasn’t going to do something, she would. She grabbed hold of the windowsill to pull herself up. Just
as she started out the window, the coach hit a large bump, throwing her sprawling back onto the seat and smacking the back
of her head in the process.

Suddenly the carriage slowed.

Josie sat up and straightened her hat.

The wind no longer howled. The rain had disappeared. The scent of roses drifted in, and the only noise was the sound of the
horses’ hooves on a gravel driveway as they proceeded at a sedate pace.

“We’ve arrived,” Deverell said with a huge grin.

Josie had the distinct feeling they weren’t in Kansas anymore.“Where are we? Oz?”

“We’re coming up the drive of my estate. See? There’s the castle just ahead.”

“But we were going down the driveway a minute ago.” Josie looked out the window.The yellow stone of the castle practically
glowed in the afternoon sun. A profusion of flowers spilled from raised beds. Cold, rainy, and fall had changed in the blink
of an eye to warm, sunny, and summer. She put her hand to her head. “What exactly happened?” Nothing made sense.“What did
you do?”

“Simply what I said I would do. Admittedly, I couldn’t wait the full week for you to complete your lessons, but I’ll be able
to smooth over any problems. My mother is actually quite nice. I’m sure the two of you will get along.” He sounded almost
giddy with excitement.

“Your mother?”

A loud snort from the other seat forestalled his answer. The pile of clothes moved. Josie shrank back into the corner.“What’s
that?”

“Sshh. Don’t wake her just yet. I have a few last-minute instructions, and we have very little time.”

“Her?”

“Mrs. Binns.Your chaperone.Now, when you...”

“Whoa.” Josie held up her hands.“How did she get into the carriage?”

“The usual way, I imagine.”

“You know what I mean. How did she get in the carriage with us? She wasn’t here when we started out, was she?”

“Of course not.Technically the question should be, how did we get into the carriage with her? since we joined en route when
we traveled back in time.”

No. It couldn’t have worked.And even if it had, there would have been...something other than a bump in the road to signal
it happening. Josie pinched herself on the arm.“Ouch.”

“We really are in the year 1815.You can believe it.”

“Stop reading my mind.”

“I’m not...”

“Well, stop whatever it is you’re doing.” She knew she was being unreasonable, but how could she be rational at a time like
this? She needed a few minutes to wrap her mind around the whole time travel thing. Time travel! Oh my God. Could it be true?

“As I was about to say,” Deverell continued in a quelling tone, “Mrs. Binns, a cousin of my mother’s, was engaged to act as
your chaperone. The letter, ostensibly from your father, was penned by me.”

Josie ignored his aggravating royal proclamation tone in favor of her other concern. “Won’t Mrs. Binns notice that we...popped
in mid-ride?”

“She’s quite absentminded. If we tell her she picked you up at the dock straight off the ship from America, she’ll believe
it. She also tends to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, which makes her perfect for the job.You will be free to complete your
investigation unimpeded.”

“What investigation?”

“Of the gypsy seer’s methods. The reason for coming here.”

Oh yeah. The gypsy. Josie had almost forgotten about her. Reasonable since she never expected to make the...trip.“Where’s
my equipment?”

“We couldn’t bring any of your gadgets.”

“Then how am I supposed to investigate the claim to contact the spirits of the dead?”

“Surely you have other methods at your disposal?”

“Like what?”

“How should I know? You’re the ghost hunter.”

“Paranormal investigator,” she corrected automatically.

The carriage slowed even more on the final approach to the house. Mrs. Binns stirred and sat up with a start.

“We’re almost here,” Josie said gently so as not to startle the woman even more. Mrs. Binns blinked rapidly.

“I can’t thank you enough for meeting my boat and agreeing to be my chaperone.”

“Well, yes, of course.Although I did hesitate once I learned Honoria is trying to speak to the dead. She was raised to have
more sense. Any reasonable person would be terrified of ghosts. But don’t you worry, my dear.” Mrs. Binns rummaged among the
packages until she found a large red velvet case. She hugged it to her ample bosom. “I’ve enough anti-spirit potions and charms
to protect us all.”