Dinner that evening was a wonderful affair. Angelica could scarcely believe her eyes when she received her first plate, filled with smoked trout, neatly arranged on a bed of lettuce with dill and a twisted slice of lemon on top. She stared at the dish, then glanced toward Lord Sterling. Randolph. He listened to Lady Seraphina – or at least pretended to, for his eyes clearly rested on Angelica and the secretive smile brushing his lips was directed at her.
“How wonderful,” Rose remarked. “I love smoked trout and I dare say it’s one of your favorite dishes as well, Angelica.”
“It certainly is,” Angelica said. Her cheeks burned, but that didn’t stop her from returning Randolph’s smile. Efforts like this, she decided, had to be rewarded, no matter what.
And not just the trout was perfect. Next came oven roasted duck, accompanied by baked apples and prunes, sugar glazed potatoes and sautéed red cabbage. Angelica kept her gaze fixed on her plate this time, for she feared all the other guests would somehow see the truth in her expression the moment she looked up. Randolph was openly favoring her – courting her with grand gestures in front of the other young ladies hoping to win his attention.
It felt underhanded somehow and yet…
Good lord, the food tasted good!
“I’m so glad the cook chose to make this,” Lucy remarked. “I absolutely love duck. And it seems you do too, Angelica. The pleasure on your face is quite palpable.”
Angelica could only nod and smile and sip her wine, even as her cheeks grew hotter.
She wasn’t as surprised when the syllabub arrived for dessert as she’d been with the previous dishes, but she was equally grateful, for it tasted divine. Smooth, creamy, and just a touch tart. Exactly how she liked it.
“I might order Cook to prepare this every day from now on,” Randolph murmured close to her ear when they filed out of the dining room later. As host, he’d stood by the door, allowing all the ladies to precede him, and since she’d been seated furthest from him, Angelica was the last to exit. He pressed his palm to her lower back while directing her into the parlor, infusing her with his heat and forcing a series of improper tingles to dart across her skin. “As long as there are no other men about to watch you eat.”
She wasn’t sure she understood his meaning. It seemed most peculiar, but his voice and his tone suggested he’d just alluded to something wicked or, at the very least, slightly naughty, though she’d no idea how food might factor in.
“It was delicious,” she told him, not only because it was true but because his effort deserved to be acknowledged. “Thank you.”
He merely bowed his head, then strode away to engage Miss Stevens in conversation. Angelica watched him go. While he might have singled her out for the meal, he was obviously aware that it would be bad form to make her the sole recipient of his attention. She smiled. He behaved like the perfect host, and in spite of their altercation last night, she was warming to him in a way she hadn’t expected. Of course, the kiss might have helped as well in that regard. The mere memory of it had the ability to leave her feeling flummoxed.
Angelica searched the room for Lucy and started in her direction as soon as she spotted her. But she’d barely taken two steps before something soft and cold breezed across her shoulders. She flinched. It was almost as if some invisible person breathed cold air on her skin.
Stiffening, Angelica kept on moving. That rustling sound she’d heard before snuck up behind her, like hollow whispers demanding attention.
She turned.
Stared back.
Of course there was nothing.
There never was.
Swallowing hard, she told herself for what had to be the hundredth time that she was being silly. In such an old house, creaky floors and odd sounds were bound to occur. And just because she couldn’t locate the draft, didn’t mean it didn’t exist.
“Are you all right?”
Angelica jumped, spun around, and pressed her palm to her breast when she spotted Lucy. “Heavens, you nearly startled the life out of me.”
Lucy frowned. “You look awfully pale. Come, let’s have some hot tea over there in the corner.” They approached the small sofa they’d occupied the previous evening and helped themselves to the tea that sat waiting on the low oval table. “You’ve been very jumpy all day. And frowny. Is something amiss?”
“No, no.” Angelica sipped her tea. She willed her heart to slow but it kept pounding. And an awful sensation twisted deep in her belly – a queasiness that kept her on edge.
“Are you certain?” Lucy watched her too closely for comfort. “Is it Lord Sterling? Did he upset you somehow?”
Yes.
And no.
He’d frightened her last night and then today he’d swept her off her feet. Had any other woman in history ever been courted by a more contradictory man? No one confused her more, and nothing concerned her as much as the eeriness lurking within the walls of Colchester Hall. It seemed almost as if a presence existed – one she could not see or accurately define. But she could feel it, and it made her want to leave. Except she didn’t have the heart to distress her mother. And at the same time, she was starting to believe she and Randolph could be happy together if they tried.
Did she really want to give up her chance of that just because his home made her feel uneasy?
“It’s not Lord Sterling.” His anger with her made sense. She shook her head, drank some more tea. She surveyed the room, then stopped when her gaze found Mrs. Essex. She stood near Randolph, issuing instructions to one of the maids, it seemed. Her gaze shifted and her cool blue eyes met Angelica’s. The perfectly lovely smile she always wore materialized on her face. Angelica’s skin pricked. “It’s something else. Something’s not right.”
“What?”
Mrs. Essex stepped closer to Randolph and dipped her head toward him. They exchanged a few more words as a master and housekeeper might need to do, but there was a sense of familiarity between them that felt entirely wrong.
An ugly sensation flowed through Angelica’s body. It slithered and stretched until it encompassed her heart and caused a sharp pang. She turned to Lucy with a start.
“Have you visited the gallery?”
Lucy blinked. “No.”
“Would you like to?”
“Now?”
Angelica nodded. She wanted to leave this room and the nattering women all vying for Randolph’s attention. She wished to forget Mrs. Essex existed and that she possessed the power to make her wonder and imagine the worst sort of things until she felt sick. But most of all, she had an unsettling urgency to see a particular portrait.
“Would you please slow down?” Lucy panted, clinging to the banister as they reached the top of the stairs. Their bedchambers were to the left, Randolph’s somewhere off to the right, and the gallery…
“This way.” Angelica hastened along the walkway bordering the perimeter of the stairwell. “It must be over here somewhere, toward the front of the house.”
It was almost as if she were being pulled toward her destination. She stepped through a tall double door and went utterly still. This was it and for some strange reason she couldn’t quite explain, the space demanded reverence.
Lucy must have felt it too, for she did not utter a word when she entered. She just sighed, ever so softly, and followed Angelica down the long row of Sterling family portraits. Until they reached the end.