The Haunting of a Duke (32 page)
Read The Haunting of a Duke Online
Authors: Chasity Bowlin
Rhys, with Emme in his arms, forced himself to look. She lay at the bottom of the stairs, her neck bent at an unnatural angle. Michael cursed but Rhys could only stare at the broken body. Emme had gone limp in his arms soon after he'd grabbed her. He had no idea how long she would remain unconscious. “Not a word of this to her,” he said. “I don't want her to know that she was any part of it."
"She wasn't,” Michael said. “That was not Emme."
Rhys knew that, just as he knew that Elise was well and truly gone. The air in the room had changed. The heaviness and the oppressiveness of it had simply dissipated. Elise's presence had hung thickly in the air of that small room even before he'd been able to accept that the dead did indeed linger. He thought about Melisande's comment, that he could only see her because he believed. Elise had cultivated Eleanor's belief; she had used Emme's body to communicate with the woman and had planted the seeds of doubt and fear. But she hadn't needed Emme to carry out her revenge fully. Eleanor's belief had been strong enough that Elise had only to use it against her.
Michael carried Emme back to the ducal chamber, as Rhys’ wound would not allow him to do so, and deposited her on the bed. He ordered Rhys to bed as well. “You've been shot, you ass. When people have bullets rip through them, they generally rest."
Rhys didn't argue, but he didn't obey either. He simply tucked Emme into the bed and then followed Michael from the room to see to the removal of the body. Servants had risen and come to see what the commotion was. Thankfully, Phyllis slept on as did Larissa.
In the hallway, Michael met a bleary-eyed Spencer coming down the corridor. “Come along. We've another corpse to attend to."
Spencer glared. “So that's what all the commotion is about? Did you kill the bitch?"
Michael shook his head. “No, Elise did."
Rhys noted the questions in Spencer's eyes. But with a shake of his head, indicated that they could not and would not be answered.
They didn't call the magistrate, deciding to treat the whole thing as a tragic accident. There was little enough to be done except remove the body. After giving the servants their direction, Rhys nodded to Michael and returned to his bedchamber and his wife. He felt that they were free again. Elise was gone. Both of the individuals responsible for Melisande's death were facing their eternal judgment and at last they were free to move forward, to leave the ugliness of the past firmly behind.
Once the task was complete and Eleanor was laid out on her bed, Michael began to carefully comb through her belongings.
Spencer glared at him. “What are you doing?"
Michael glanced over his shoulder, “Making sure that she hasn't written something down that will make life more complicated for our friend. In case you haven't noticed, his wife is complication enough for any man."
Spencer was quiet for a moment then dutifully began to search with him. They collected Eleanor's journals, as well as packets of letters she'd kept from her liaison with the duke. They threw it all into the fire and watched it burn.
The following afternoon Michael walked through the woods toward the spot where he and Melisande had liked to play, to the place where she had given him his first kiss. It had been chaste, but to him it had been the most thrilling moment of his young life. It was also the spot where he'd held her and watched her die and where Alistair had paid for his crimes against her. The body had been removed, and Michael was certain that was Spencer's doing. Spencer was nothing if not efficient and proper.
He walked past the blood-soaked ground and toward a gnarled oak tree. He brushed aside the moss and leaves until he found what he was looking for. He'd carved her name in that tree when he had been eleven years old. He traced the clumsy script with his fingers. He was not a religious man, but in that instance, he'd always wanted a biblical retribution—an eye for an eye. In the end, he was glad that Eleanor hadn't died at his hands or at Rhys'. He still couldn't quite grasp the events that had unfolded in the tower the evening before, but he didn't need to. Justice had been served and that was all that mattered.
He thought of her, the small girl with the bright green eyes. He'd buried her memory so deeply within himself for so long that it was difficult to recall the small details. She'd been gone for many more years than she'd lived. Her face might have faded a bit in his mind's eye but the feelings had not. He remembered the love he'd held for her when he'd been an innocent lad himself. He remembered the horror and the grief when he'd discovered her broken body. He remembered the guilt, the awful, cancerous guilt that had eaten at him for years because he had failed her. His throat burned and his eyes welled. He blinked furiously. He would not give in to tears. They served no purpose.
"You never cried. No matter how badly you were hurt, or how horribly they teased you about me. You never cried."
The voice was so soft he thought at first he was imagining it. He turned slowly and met the familiar green gaze. All the details were there, he realized, the tiny freckle at the corner of her eye, the sweep of her lashes, and the curve of her cheek. She had always been the most beautiful child. The light struck her pale cheek and it shimmered.
"Melisande,” he whispered.
She smiled at him. “Please don't be sad anymore I don't want you to be sad for me. Find yourself a wife, Michael and be happy."
"I'm already married,” he said, smiling. “I married you on your twelfth birthday, lest you forget."
She laughed, the childish giggle ringing through the forest. That laugh, in a place of such horror, did more to heal him than anything he'd experienced since her death. She walked toward him, and he crouched down so that they were eye-to-eye. She touched his cheek or would have if she'd been able to. He felt only the faintest whisper of wind and a slight chill.
"That was only for play. I loved you dearly, and you loved me but with a child's heart. I will never be anything but a child, but now you are a man and it is time to put away childish things. You've freed me, Michael; free yourself now. Live and be happy."
She vanished before him. There was no preamble or warning. She didn't fade away as he might have expected a spirit to. She was simply gone and he knew that it wasn't simply that she was gone from his sight. She was well and truly freed. He fell to his knees, oblivious to the silent tears that fell as he finally mourned his childhood love and the dreams that had been lost.
The winter had been long and harsh and the days were still cold but a hint of spring was in the air. There were tiny buds on the trees and the promise of sunshine. Sitting in the garden, Emme stroked her ever-expanding belly while Larissa sat beside her, embroidering more clothes for her niece or nephew. Emme still had no idea if the child would be a boy or girl. Larissa knew but was keeping mum on the subject.
Dropping the embroidery onto her lap, Larissa stretched and smiled. “I think I will go to London."
Mr. Stidham had disappeared, possibly to America or some other distant shore. Their mother was now living in a small house that Rhys had obtained for her. There was no danger for Larissa in returning. Her debut had been postponed for long enough.
Emme was stunned. “Now?"
"No. I won't leave you until after the baby is born. I wouldn't miss that for anything. But after, I think I will go to London. I spoke with Rhys about it last week. He said that he would make all the arrangements. I had mentioned finding a position as a governess or a companion but he said that Stidham had been forced to release our marriage portions. According to your dear husband, I should be able to live comfortably without working. He's a terrible liar but a very generous man."
Emme smiled. It was so like him. “I wish you wouldn't leave us, but then I know that you miss London. The countryside was never really for you."
"I have to stop hiding from life. I have to face the tatters of my reputation and attempt to rebuild something for myself. Having the complete support of my brother-in-law, the duke, should be helpful."
Emme smiled as Larissa rose and placed the cloth back into the sewing basket. “He is everything I ever wanted and the life I have now is more than I have ever dreamed of. I want that for you. After everything that has happened, do you think you could love a man, trust him to love you?"
Larissa considered it for a moment. “I don't know. It's funny that I can see other people's futures but never my own. And I see your dashing husband in your immediate future."
"You're having a vision about Rhys?"
Larissa laughed. “No, I literally see him, crossing the lawn. And I am returning to the house so I won't have to watch you fawning over each other."
Emme turned her head in the direction Larissa had indicated. As always, the sight of her husband stole her breath away and left her pulse racing. He was truly magnificent. When he reached her, he leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, placing his warm hands on her swollen belly.
"It is too cold out here for you,” he said.
"I'm pregnant, Rhys. There could be two feet of snow and it wouldn't be too cold for me. With the fire going in the hearth, it's all I can do not to walk around naked in the house."
He laughed. “Winstone would be scandalized. Maybe we'll restrict your naked rolls to our chamber, hmm?"
"Larissa told me that she's leaving after the baby comes."
He nodded. “She needs to find her place. But she will always be welcome here and she knows that."
Emme sighed. “I had hoped that she and Michael might develop closer feelings for one another, but he treats her like a sister."
Rhys shook his head. He'd known all about her hopes on that front. “And she treats him like a brother. Like Larissa, Michael needs to find his place as well. No more matchmaking."
Emme shrugged noncommittally. “I simply want all of the people I love to be has happy as I am."
He picked her up, scooping her into his arms. With a wicked grin, he said, “Concentrate on making me happy, at least for the next hour or so."
She laughed, the sound carrying across the lawn. “I adore you. I love you so much."
He kissed her, and when he drew back his eyes were filled with tenderness. “I love you. You are my life, my world. We will have a wonderful life here along with the half-dozen children we will have."
"Half a dozen?” she all but screeched, panic in her voice.
He chuckled. “Larissa isn't the only one who can make predictions."
He silenced her further protests with kisses, and carried her to their room.
Chasity lives in Kentucky, where she works for a non-profit agency, attends graduate school, and rescues cats. In her spare time, when she should be sleeping, she writes.