The Spare (8 page)

"If you have your way, James, Miss Willow will find her life and reputation irretrievably altered after you are gone from Pennhyll."

"I want her," he said in a low voice. "I will have her. No matter what." Sebastian raised his eyebrows at that, and James made a face. "Don't even think it." He gave a mock shudder. "I'm not that far gone."

"Are you certain?"

"Sebastian. I can't marry her. She's been a governess. She has nothing. Has been nothing since her father died."

"Then leave her be."

"I'll be discreet, if that's what you're worried about. And, I'll find us another chaperone once I've got her tucked away someplace convenient."

"I'd prefer the parish not be burdened with Fitzalan by-blows."

James shrugged. "I'll support it. Hell, if I have a dozen on her, I'll support them all. Does that ease your mind?"

"Jesus."

He held up a hand. "Peace, Sebastian. Peace. I'm a gentleman, and one way or another, a gentleman pays for his pleasures. With Miss Willow, I find myself inclined to more than my usual generosity. I promise you, if she finds her life altered, it can only be for the better."

"Without a husband?" Why, in the name of God, was he so concerned about her fate? If Miss Willow let James talk her onto a mattress, what concern was that of his?

James adjusted his waistcoat. "Attend, Sebastian. I'll show you how to properly woo a female."

The women reached the carriage. Fitzalan kissed Diana's cheek and gave his hand to Miss Willow. "Miracle worker, Miss Willow."

"How so?" Only polite interest, Sebastian noted, frowning again because, damn it all, the pieces did not fit together. Olivia Willow was not what James hoped; the sort of woman who could be seduced out of her good sense. She was as far from being a flirt as Diana was near to being one. In fact, if not for her unfortunate history, he'd have put her in a class with the other young ladies of Far Caister.

James continued to hold Miss Willow's hand. "I expected another hour's wait at least before Diana presented herself, and here she is, a vision in white."

"Thank you, James."

Diana smiled at Sebastian, and all he could think while he looked at her was she was hardly out of the schoolroom and couldn't possibly understand anything about a man who'd sailed to hell and back. A bride to be pampered and cherished. A treasure to display. All a gentleman desired in his wife. Trouble was, he could not imagine making love to Diana. The thought left him cold.

James cleared his throat. Loudly.

"Fur becomes you, Miss Royce," he said. That earned him a grin from James, a tutor proud of his pupil. What nonsense this was. Diana knew very well how she looked. Why did he need to tell her? Since Miss Willow showed no sign of expecting a compliment from him, and, indeed, could not think he would make her one, he said nothing to her, which appeared to suit them both just fine.

In the carriage, Diana settled against the seat, her hair shining dark against a field of ermine. James eyed his sister, then turned to Sebastian and mouthed the words
compliment her
. But at just that moment, the groom lifted the stairs and closed the door and the delicate combination of opportunity and motivation vanished. Sebastian heard the snap of reins. "Walk on."

Diana touched her curls then turned so her back was to Miss Willow. "Do fix this for me. My hair shall be wretched in five minutes, I'm sure." Miss Willow obligingly did something with hairpins with the result that, at the conclusion of the procedure, Miss Royce looked no different than she had before.

Light flashed over Miss Willow's hair. There must be fifty colors of red, all of them some variation of copper fire. When she finished examining Diana's hairpins, she put a hand to her mouth to hide a yawn.

"I hardly slept a wink myself last night." James surveyed the women. "I wonder if the same thing kept us awake, Miss Willow."

She smiled pleasantly enough, but managed to convey displeasure. "I doubt that, sir."

"I fell asleep the moment my eyes closed," Diana said. "What kept you awake, James?"

"A ghost, dear sister."

"Oh," she breathed. "Never say so. Truly?"

Sebastian looked away since derision was liable to be fatal to an offer of marriage. Ghosts, indeed. Diana, he was coming to realize, was not about to give up her ridiculous idea of a
seance to summon the Black Earl.

Diana buried her hands deeper in her muff and leaned toward her brother and him. "In London, Mama and I attended a
seance. Don't laugh, James. We did, and it was most astonishing. The spirits predicted I would be married before the new year is out, and that I should come to the country to find my husband. They did. They moaned and pounded on the walls, and Lady Fields swooned when they said her late husband wanted her to invest in the three percents. Is that what kept you awake, James? Miss Willow? Oh, do tell."

Miss Willow shook her head. "Much to my regret, I've never seen a ghost. Nor heard one either."

James's eyes twinkled. "Oh, now don't spoil the fun, Miss Willow. As for me, 'twas the Black Earl himself I heard. Who else could it have been rattling his chains and moaning outside my door half the night?"

"Angry, perhaps, for not investing in the five percents before he died," Miss Willow said.

"Pish." Diana made a face and sank against the seat. "You're such a liar, James. I don't know why I listen to anything you say."

"Diana, I am wounded to the quick."

"If you really saw the Black Earl, what was he like?"

"Quite the hair-raising experience, I confess. I can hardly bring myself to describe the horror."

"The truth, James, have you really? Miss Willow, make him tell the truth. Besides, I thought the Black Earl only appeared on the anniversary of his death. Did you not say so, Miss Willow?"

James grinned. "I didn't say I saw him. I said I heard him. Though an Alexander might see him at any time. Tell us, Sebastian, when you saw the Black Earl did he rattle chains and howl at his fate?"

"You saw the Black Earl?" Diana put a hand to her heart.

"Your brother, Miss Royce," Sebastian said, "heard nothing but the wind and the timbers settling." What kind of mother would she be, filling her children's heads with superstitious nonsense? Hell. He might end up with a nursery full of vain, idiot offspring. Miss Willow yawned again, but he suspected she hid amusement behind that forgery of a yawn.

James sighed. "What a pity you have so little imagination, Tiern-Cope."

The carriage stopped, signaling the end of the drive to Far Caister and, more specifically, their arrival at the Crown's Ease. Villagers stopped to gape, and shopkeepers appeared in doorways to watch. The coachman's chest swelled to bursting and the grooms, too, made a show of their duties, snapping down the steps, holding harnesses, shouting instructions to the ostler.

James took in the hubbub with an amused and more tolerant smile than Sebastian. A murmur rose. Diana, wrapped in ermine, flashed an ankle as she stepped down, reaching for Sebastian's hand. Her gown, peeking from the cloud of ermine surrounding her, proved a confection of green-and-yellow silk gauze that made a striking contrast with her glossy hair. Diana took the adoration in stride, indeed, as her due. She was a beauty, no doubt of that. So, why did she leave him without the slightest stirring of passion? What if he couldn't bring himself to kiss her? Certainly, he could. Of course he could. Whether he wanted to was another matter entirely.

Miss Willow came down next. She, Sebastian noted, made nothing like the impression Diana had. Her shopworn gown of white muslin was so precisely like the one she'd worn yesterday as to be, in fact, the very same. With the exception of that copper-on-fire hair, she was quite ordinary. Well, in all honesty, not ordinary. No one with hair that color could be called ordinary, and he had to allow she was pretty, and without the aid of fashion. Several in the crowd tipped a hat or bent a quick knee, not the least in awe of her. Though respectful, they gave gap-toothed, gnarled grins. A few lifted a hand in greeting. The manner in which the villagers greeted her bothered him. Miss Willow would not command this sort of affectionate respect if her name had been inappropriately linked to Andrew or to any other man.

The thought gave him pause. If James was right about anything, it was that privacy did not exist in Far Caister. An illicit relationship between her and his brother could not have been kept quiet. She was an old maid, nearing twenty-five, for God's sake, who lived with her ailing mother. Andrew could not possibly have called on her without remark. The servants would know if he'd entertained her at Pennhyll, and it seemed the height of unlikelihood they had managed to conduct an affair at some other location. While he didn't doubt Andrew's expertise in trysting, he did doubt his brother possessed the discipline for a prolonged and secret affair with the village spinster. He had a sudden and rather unpleasant recollection of his reply to Mrs. Leveret's inquiry. Sebastian's belly hollowed out. Had he been hasty and done Miss Willow an unpardonable disservice? He caught a glimpse of James staring at her with frank and open lust and decided he'd only anticipated the event.

"How fortunate you are, my Lord," Diana said, "to live near so quaint a town as this." Onlookers nodded, finding favor in the remark. Sebastian felt an undeniable shock to hear evidence that the villagers took as much or even more interest in his future wife than did he. Whatever he did for himself, he owed Far Caister a wise choice. If beauty and position were the criteria then Diana must be his countess.

James offered Miss Willow his elbow, which she accepted with the sort of smile an elderly aunt saved for a favored nephew. If she had any chastity to keep, it would be despite James's best efforts. The man was beside himself with longing and prepared for extravagance. No woman in her position could remain proof against James's determination.

Miss Willow acted as their guide to Far Caister, stopping, of course, at every shop that caught Diana's eye. Sebastian found himself toting up receipts for her purchases, beginning with a chapeau Diana swore was naval in its inspiration. He was obliged to suppress the opinion that he'd never allow such a contraption aboard any ship of his. Besides the hat, he doled out money for ribbons, lace, gloves and chocolate. James failed to coax Miss Willow into making any selection for herself or accepting what he purchased, with
the sole exception of a single praline. Which she promptly gave to one of the children drooling at the window. Boys in fustian and homespun woolens followed as they walked past a cobbler's. Fitzalan dug into a pocket and threw out a handful of coins. One boy caught a shilling and displayed it triumphantly. His eyes sparkled as he cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Oi! Miss Olivia. Seen the Black Earl, yet?"

She stopped, standing with hands folded and face quite serious. "Oh, indeed I have." Sebastian ended up standing behind her, tall enough to see over her head, and close enough to smell her hair and see the bare nape of her neck. Copper tendrils wound over her ears and trailed down the side of her throat. If he wanted to, he could touch her waist or caress that pale nape.

"Aye, Miss? For true?"

"Just last night he breathed upon the very sheets where I lay trying to sleep." The boys went wide-eyed, riveted by her encounter with the infamous spirit of Pennhyll Castle. "He waved a great sword in his hands, sharp enough to take my head in one fell strike. The blood froze in my veins, I was that sure he would murder me in my bed."

"But he didn't, Miss Olivia," said another boy, who must have been all of six or seven.

"My hair frightened him away."

The boys hooted with laughter, and Sebastian heard a snort of amusement from James. He wanted to smile himself, for that matter.

"No," said the first boy, frowning like he'd eaten a green apple. "The Black Earl wouldn't be afraid of you, Miss."

"I don't see why not." She touched her head. "I assure you, with this hair, I'm frightful, indeed."

"He's a ghost, Miss. He'd not be frightened by the color of your hair." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I reckon a ghost don't see color."

"We know what it means, don't we?" asked another. "When a woman sees the Black Earl." The boys nodded to each other.

"What does it mean?" Diana asked.

Jesus. Diana was as bad as those ragamuffin boys, worse because she ought to know better.

"Nonsense," said Miss Willow.

The eldest boy's eyes glazed with admiration when he looked at Diana. "Why, my Lady, when a woman sees the Black Earl, it means she's to marry the master, that's what."

James dissolved into laughter.

"You are bold as brass." A laughing Miss Willow shook a finger at the lad. "As brass. Go on, all of you. Lord Fitzalan hasn't any more coins for you today."

"Did you really see the Black Earl?" Diana studied Olivia, waiting, it seemed, with baited breath. Sebastian, doing the same, saw James watching as well.

Miss Willow sighed, sounding for all the world like a governess whose patience has just been stretched past its limit. "Miss Royce, there's no such thing as ghosts." She put her hands on her hips, which brought the fabric of her cloak in tight. Small woman, she was, but curved where a man liked to hold on. Another salacious thought entered his head, which was what a damn shame it was for any woman to have a figure like hers and no man to enjoy it.

Diana's mouth turned down. "Then why did you say you'd seen the Black Earl?"

"Because they wanted me to," she said, rolling her eyes. "Boys live for such terror."

James laughed. "I'm sure they're disappointed the ghost didn't lop off your head."

"Undoubtedly, my Lord." She smiled, an enchanting, uninhibited grin. "Shall we visit the churchyard?" With a glance at the sky, she said, "We've time, I think, before it snows."

The church stood at the eastern edge of the village, built of the same dappled stone as the rest of Far Caister. A pointed arch over the door and a round stained-glass window above pronounced its ancient lineage. "Our church was built in 1072. It's a matter of some local pride that William the Conqueror attended services. Others insist King Arthur himself heard mass here. The earls of Tiern-Cope have a pew, and there's a lovely statue of the sixth earl and his wife. In the Black Earl's day, however, the family attended services in the chapel at Pennhyll."