“What will you do?” Lucy asked Angelica the following afternoon. They’d been divided into groups of four—she was with Lucy and both their mothers— and were presently on their way to the music room in search of their next clue. While Angelica did not like Mrs. Essex, she had to give her credit for creating a well-planned treasure hunt. The riddles required a great deal of thought to solve them.
“About what?” Angelica and Lucy trailed behind, allowing their mothers to hurry ahead like eager young girls. It was quite entertaining to watch, and it allowed Angelica and Lucy to speak more privately with each other.
“Lord Sterling, of course. He will ask you to stay and then he will ask you to be his wife. Have you decided on your answer yet?”
Angelica sighed. She gave her friend a tentative look. “I’m not certain. On one hand, I must marry him for my mother’s sake, but on the other I do not wish to remain here one day longer than necessary.”
“I don’t know why you dislike this house so much. Most women would be honored to call it their home. But whatever your reason may be, does it really matter where you live as long as you’re getting him? Is he not worth sacrificing your taste in a home?”
Angelica gave her a deadpan stare. “I’m not in love with him, Lucy. It’s a bit too soon to be speaking of sacrifices and such.”
“Are you sure? That look in your eyes yesterday when we left the bookshop—”
Angelica cleared her throat. They’d entered the music room and the last thing she wanted was for her mother to be provided with additional reasons for getting Angelica to the altar. At least not until she’d made up her mind about what she wanted for herself and figured out her options. If there was even more than one to consider.
Thankfully, Lucy fell silent and broke away from Angelica in order to help search for the next clue. They eventually found it inside the piano and, upon deciphering it, headed toward the conservatory.
“Do you think you could grow to love him?” Lucy asked when they were once again able to speak discretely.
“I do not know.” Or so she told herself, but the truth... The truth was she feared she might already be on her way to losing her heart and… “I cannot risk it. Not yet.”
Not until she understood what she was getting herself into.
Lucy grinned, oblivious to Angelica’s turmoil. “I’m not sure love is something one can control. You simply…fall.”
This was followed by a sigh – an extremely telling one.
“My goodness,” Angelica murmured. Lucy’s lack of interest in Randolph suddenly made so much sense. “Who is he?”
“What?” Lucy glanced about quickly, her eyes no longer glazed over with longing but sharpened by panic.
Angelica drew a bit closer to her friend and lowered her voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Who are you in love with?”
A wash of red colored Lucy’s cheeks. She stammered a bit, then managed to compose herself and say, “Mr. Elliot Thompson. He is a friend of my brother’s. But it hardly signifies since he has never shown any interest in me.”
“Oh, but he must. I do not see how he cannot.”
Lucy smiled. “You’re very kind, but the truth is I always turn into a bashful ninny whenever he’s near. As you know, I’m already soft spoken and shy, but with him… Dear lord, it’s so much worse.”
Angelica pondered that for a moment. Clearly Lucy would need some help opening Mr. Thompson’s eyes. “We will find a way,” she promised. “Somehow, you shall have the man you want, Lucy.”
Because really, what was the point if someone as sweet and kind as her friend could not have her happily ever after?
“And what about you?”
Angelica tried to ignore the shift in the air and the chilling embrace that followed. She still hadn’t figured out who had been at her bedchamber window the previous day, but a definite unpleasantness permeated Colchester Hall. It hung in the air like a damp smell, clinging to the walls in various shades of grey.
Of course, no one but she could see it or feel it, and that was perhaps the worst part of all.
The chill curled over her shoulders and slid down her arms. The soles of her feet felt damp. She glanced down and took a step back. Where were her stockings and shoes? Why was she barefoot and why…
Trembling from head to toe, she stared at the frozen ground, at the hem of her gown, no longer made from light green cotton but white and breezy, like a nightgown.
She sucked in a breath as a hard gust of wind whipped her back. Her hand curled around something crisp. Letters. Dozens of them fell from her hands until she was just clasping one.
I saw what happened. Meet me at midnight, by the entrance to the east wing if you want my help – a friend.
The cold sank into her bones, intensifying in strength until she cried out in pain. “Help me.” But her voice was too weak. The wind so strong it swallowed it up. She staggered forward and fell. Her hand reached for the door and her nails raked helplessly over the wood. “Help me.”
Her breaths faltered until just a wheezing hoarseness remained. Her heartbeats slowed, the pain subsided. A lock of red hair curled over her shoulder as she slumped sideways against the exterior wall. Her vision blurred until all she saw was the white misty air of her last exhalation.
A hand clasped her arm. “Angelica?” It was Lucy and she was shaking her hard.
Angelica gasped, drawing in air as if she’d been drowning. She stared at Lucy whose face filled with concern. “What happened?”
“I’ve no idea. You stopped walking and didn’t respond when I spoke. It was almost as if you weren’t there.” Lucy shuddered and glanced around. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. I think so.” Still reeling from shock, Angelica prayed her friend would believe her so she could move on, avoid additional questions, and figure out what was happening to her without being labeled mad. “I just have to speak with Lord Sterling.”
Now, more than ever, she had to uncover the truth.
Chapter 5
Seated behind his desk in his study, Randolph considered Mrs. Essex’s words. Perhaps it had been unwise of him to request her opinion, but his butler was an elderly man who always said what he thought Randolph wanted to hear and his valet… Well, he was no better. So he’d turned to his housekeeper as a last resort.
“It is not that I find them unsuitable,” she added with that pleasant smile she always wore. “Rather, I worry they won’t make you happy.”
He appreciated her concern, even though he believed she was wrong. “I think there’s a chance Lady Angelica might.”
Her eyes held his. “Is she not a bit too unpolished for the position?”
Randolph couldn’t help but laugh. “You speak as though we’re looking to hire a new servant.” Although to be fair, he had made it sound much the same in his invitation.
“Well, the process you’ve chosen is not so very different, is it?”
He instantly sobered. “No. I don’t suppose it is.” He’d been interviewing the women, judging them, taking his time to carefully gauge compatibility. Only two had shown potential: Miss Harlow and Lady Angelica, with Lady Angelica as the clear winner.