“Naturally, I would converse with the person sitting beside me,” he said as if she were the most thickheaded woman he’d ever encountered.
Angelica bristled. “It isn’t practical, nor does it offer the sort of welcoming atmosphere I would be drawn to. You’d be much better off moving that sofa over there and then adding one more seating arrangement over here. A gaming table would work well too as an alternative, and…”
“And what?” he asked her tightly.
She swallowed, unsure if it was wise of her to continue. Then again, she had come this far so why on earth not? “Rugs. Preferably in burgundy tones to complement the pale green upholstery.”
“Right.” They’d arrived back at the spot where they’d started. He released her arm, took a step back. “You’ve given me a great deal to think about, my lady. I do hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.” Upon which he strode away, directly toward the door leading out to the hallway.
Mrs. Essex stood there and Lord Sterling soon joined her. They exchanged a few words and then, with one swift backward glance and no parting words to his guests, he left the parlor with her. But what struck Angelica as particularly odd was the look in Mrs. Essex’s eyes when she’d met Angelica’s gaze. It was almost as if she’d been laughing at her.
“How was it?” Lucy asked.
Angelica shook off the uneasy feeling the housekeeper gave her and turned to her friend. “I fear I ruined my chances.” She returned to the seat she’d vacated earlier.
“Surely it can’t have been that bad.” Lucy was carefully nibbling on a small chocolate-covered biscuit.
“Well,” Angelica told her with a sigh, “I told him I disliked the food and found his home lacking. Frankly, it’s a wonder he didn’t insult me in return.”
“Hmm… There’s always a chance he likes honest women.”
“I was blunt to the point of rudeness, Lucy. And I don’t even know why, but it couldn’t be helped. Once I started talking there was no stopping the words. It was awful.”
“Perhaps another cup of tea would make you feel better?”
“Thank you, but I think I’d prefer to retire for the evening. I’ll just inform my mother.”
“I’ll come upstairs with you.” Lucy brushed the crumbs from her fingers and stood. “No sense in me staying here without you or my host.”
Ten minutes later, after pointing out to her mother that Lord Sterling had abandoned them all in favor of lord knew what, Angelica said good night to Lucy outside her bedchamber door and went to prepare for bed. The same maid who’d unpacked her things earlier responded when she rang the bell pull. She didn’t say much while she worked, which was fine with Angelica since enough things had happened today to occupy her brain without her having to engage in small talk with a servant.
“Will that be all?” the maid, whose name turned out to be Emma, asked once she’d finished combing Angelica’s hair.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Then I’ll wish you a pleasant night, my lady.” Emma bobbed a quick curtsey and departed, shutting the door behind her.
Angelica stared at it for a moment, then glanced toward the door connecting her room with her mother’s. She was tempted to open it, but resisted the urge. It was just that the feeling she’d had in here earlier – of cold fingers creeping over her skin – was back.
She shook her head and laughed at her silliness, then glanced at her book which lay waiting for her on the bedside table. Clearly she’d become too engrossed in her English translation of Fantasmagoriana if elements were becoming part of her own reality.
Still… She bit her lip, then grinned as she climbed into bed and picked up the novel. She simply had to know what happened next. Settling back against her pillows, Angelica opened it and started to read. She liked how the book was compiled of short stories that were reasonably quick to get through. Right now, she was in the middle of “The Death Bride,” right at the point where Marino had gone in pursuit of a masked woman.
Angelica turned the page. The woman seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Intrigued, Angelica kept reading until she reached the spot where Marino’s fiancée, Ida, returned to the ball in search of him, only to be told he’d just left with her. Good heavens, how was that possible? Unless…
The flame from Angelica’s oil lamp flickered, distorting the golden light. A melodious chime from the clock on the fireplace mantle announced the hour. Angelica flexed her toes. Her feet felt like ice, and the feeling seemed to be travelling slowly up her legs. She pulled the blankets more firmly around her entire body, cocooning herself.
The flame from her oil lamp flickered again, then guttered as if struggling to stay lit.
“No, no, no,” Angelica muttered. She had to finish the story. She had to know what had happened to Marino and how there could possibly be two Idas.
Ignoring the chill which had now seeped into her fingers, she strained her eyes to see the black print. Until the flame gave one last burst of light and died.
The room transformed into a collection of gray and dark purple tones. With a sigh of frustration, Angelica climbed from her bed and hugged her arms around her body. Padding across the floor, she approached the connecting door, intending to listen for her mother’s presence. If she was still up, Angelica could simply read the rest of the story in her room.
But as she passed the window, a breeze swept over her ankles.
Angelica turned to see the curtains move ever so gently, perhaps on account of a draft? She decided to check by carefully pulling the fabric aside and running her fingers along the edge of the window. Nothing. Only darkness. The glass itself was streaked by water, distorting her reflection.
A prickly sensation spread like a rash across the nape of her neck.
Something moved in the window’s reflection – a shadow behind her.
She instinctively turned.
Her breath filled the air like smoke and her fingers grew rigid like twigs. Swallowing hard, Angelica stared at her bedchamber door, certain she’d locked it. Yet now it stood open.
She blinked. Someone had been in her room while she’d been standing here lost in thought. Mrs. Essex perhaps, or the viscount himself? Angelica crossed the floor in search of an answer and reached the hallway just in time to glimpse the fluttering hem of nightgown as it disappeared round a corner.
Barefoot, she ran toward it, desperate to chase down the person and give them a piece of her mind. But when she reached the stairs, there was nothing. Heart pounding and with her bones aching from cold, she glanced down into the foyer.
A shadow crept slowly across the wall.
How had the individual managed to descend the stairs so quickly?
Determined to catch the elusive person, Angelica balled her frozen hands into fists and quickened her pace. If only she’d thought to put on her robe and slippers to ward off the ever-increasing frigidity.
By the time she reached the foyer, she was trembling from head to toe.
She glanced around. The chill had dug its claws into her chest. She struggled for breath. A movement, right at the edge of her vision, caused her to turn.
A hallway was there.
Angelica started forward. “Wait,” she called out, even though the person was clearly intent on escape. A whisper of air fluttered over her shoulders. She glanced back, certain she’d see someone there, but all she found was empty darkness.