The Haunting of a Duke(12)

Yes, he thought, the resolution forming deep inside him, twisted and dark. She was just another uppity bitch that wouldn't look twice at him, but would have hiked her skirts in the garden for Ellersleigh if he'd so much as crooked his finger at her.

He wanted to bellow his fury and his resentment; he wanted to see her cringing with fear before him. He would make her pay, he thought, he would make her beg and scream, just like the others had.

His dark fantasies took flight in his mind. Her pale flesh bared before him. Her whimpering cries as she pleaded with him for mercy. He could almost feel the firmness of her supple flesh beneath his gloved hands, could almost smell her fear, the sweet scent tantalizing him. He would close his hands about her throat and watch while her pale eyes went blank and empty. He would feel the life and the warmth seep from her. She would be his forever, just like the others were.

He smiled then, the dark seed taking root deep inside him. He would wait. The anticipation would make it sweeter. Turning on his booted heel, he walked toward the woods and his waiting mount, softly whistling a jaunty tune.

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Chapter Three

Emme returned to her room after her sojourn to the portrait gallery. She was reeling and simply couldn't face the idea of having to make small talk with the other guests, or heaven forbid, the duke himself. Then, there was her aunt. She'd rather face an army, she thought bitterly. The portrait had been a revelation. She had known that Rhys had been a second son, had known of his older brother Jeremy only in the vaguest sense from studying Debrett's Book of Peerage. She hadn't known that they'd had a sister.

More disturbing was that the experience was entirely new. There had been a handful of times in her life when she had seen a spirit while awake, but they had been shadowy figures, and obviously not of this world. To speak with a ghost, to have a conversation with one and be unaware that the person she was speaking to was non-corporeal was unfathomable. Why was her “gift” changing, she wondered? She'd never before seen a spirit so clearly. Had it not been for the portrait, she would have thought it was a harbinger of encroaching madness. But having seen that child's face peering back at her from the painting, she had no choice but to accept that it had been real, no matter how much she wished to deny it. Trying desperately to push those things from her mind, she was grateful when Gussy bustled in to her chamber to help her dress for dinner.

Emme's wardrobe was up to par, but only just. Gussy had already laid out a gown for her of pale silver satin with black piping at the puffed sleeves and around the rather daring decolletage A black velvet sash cinched just beneath her breasts. It wasn't really a gown for a debutante, but then she was approaching the shelf, even if she wasn't quite on it yet. She no longer had to abide by the strictest rules and wear only white and pale shades of pink that made her look like a walking corpse.

She had a simple necklace of jet beads that would serve as her only ornamentation. Gussy dressed her hair, creating a coronet of dark braids intertwined with black and silver ribbons.

Once the look was complete, she stood and gave her reflection one final survey. “I believe I am as presentable as possible, Gussy. Thank you."

The outspoken maid clucked. “More than presentable, Miss. Ye look lovely, as ye well know."

"Thank you, Gussy. You are a miracle worker, never doubt it."

Gussy started to leave the room, but then turned back. “A word of advice, Miss. His Grace's cousin arrived from London late last night. He's already been after one of the maids today. He's not a good sort at all, so steer well clear of him if ye can."

Emme nodded. Lord Alistair Brammell had a reputation that preceded him. “I've heard the rumors of his dissolute behavior. I'll be careful to avoid him, as much as possible."

Gussy waggled a finger at her warningly. “This is one time when even the worst of the gossip pales next to the truth."

Moments later Emme made her way to the drawing room with Gussy's warnings still ringing in her mind. Though it was not a large crowd, there were enough people about to make her somewhat self-conscious. She took a seat on the periphery of the room and accepted a glass of sherry from a footman. Conversation hummed around her as she idly sipped the sherry, but she did not feel compelled to join in.

She spied Isabella across the room, flirting with a gentleman she did not recognize. Though Isabella was married, she and her husband maintained largely separate lives, as was customary amongst the ton. Many of the dinner guests were local gentry and a few neighbors of significant social importance who had come just for the evening, most of whom would leave before the evening's entertainment started.