Lady Charlotte Beck craves just one
little adventure, which is nearly impossible as her older brothers are the most
diligent of chaperones. However, when her family is summoned to Castle Keyvnor
for the reading of her great-uncle’s will, Charlotte can hardly contain her
excitement. Ghosts, magic and gypsies seem to be the ingredients to the
adventure she’s been searching for. However when she meets Adam Vail in the
nearby gypsy camp, it maybe another adventure all together that calls to her
soul…if she can survive Castle Keyvnor and one very murderous ghost.
CHAPTER ONE
Castle
Keyvnor, Cornwall ~ October, 1811
Lady Charlotte Beck took
a step back and glanced at the door. She could make her escape and nobody would
notice. Certainly not her father, who often forgot he even had a daughter when
her older brothers were in the room.
The oldest, Anthony,
Viscount Redgrave, lounged against a settee, a smirk upon his lips. Anthony enjoyed
whenever Michael, the third born, was called on the carpet by their father.
The two brothers were as
different as night and day, and had been since the moment of birth. Or so she
suspected since she was seven years younger than her eldest brother. Anthony
had always been the perfect son. He probably hadn’t ever cried as an infant and,
more than likely, slept through the night from the start. Michael, on the other
hand, probably started flirting with the nursery maid when he was only an hour
old. And then there was Harry, the second born, who had recently returned from
the Navy. He sat upright in his chair, watching the scene with great curiosity.
Or perhaps it was
boredom. Harry left when Charlotte was only seven years old, and she didn’t
really know him. She still was not certain if he was friend or foe.
Anthony and Michael were
certainly foes. But for all of their
differences, there was one topic in which they were in full agreement—any
gentleman who might even glance in Charlotte’s direction was to be discouraged,
then investigated. With those two always near, and glaring, it was a wonder any
gentleman even bothered to sign her dance cards last season.
“Explain to me why St.
Giles, Blackwater, and Ashbrook are at Castle Keyvnor,” her father, Marquess of
Halesworth, demanded of Michael. The gentlemen were some of Michael’s closest
friends, and it really hadn’t surprised Charlotte that the trio had traveled to
Cornwall with her brother.
“They were with me in
Newmarket when you ordered me here.”
“So you invited them?”
His irate tone prompted Charlotte to edge closer to the exit. She caught
Harry’s eye, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his lips quirked ever so slightly.
“Not so much invited,”
Michael hedged. “Devon Lancaster is here too, and he wasn’t invited either.”
“You do realize this
gathering is for the reading of a will. Not a house party!” their father
roared.
“I don’t even understand
why it’s necessary for all of us to be present,” Michael complained. “Banfield
was Mother’s uncle, surely whatever was left to her is but a token and does not
require the entire family to be present.”
If Father could breathe
fire, it would surely be coming from his mouth and nose this very instant. At
the very least, as red as his face had suddenly become, smoke should be coming
from his ears.
Anthony’s smile broadened,
Harry came to his feet and reached for his cane, and Charlotte slipped out of
the room. Father’s temper was only going to get hotter, and she preferred to be
far away.
A sigh escaped as she
exited into the corridor, glad to be rid of her family and excited to be at
Castle Keyvnor for the next sennight. Here she wouldn’t be watched nearly as
closely as she had been anywhere else. Other than the four uninvited gentlemen,
everyone else in attendance was some form of relation, no matter how distant.
Not that she had cause to be worried about Lords St. Giles, Blackwater,
Ashbrook, or Mr. Lancaster. Other than standing up with her on occasion at
balls, none had ever showed her any interest, and she certainly had none in
them.
“One would think those
two would have grown up, at least somewhat, during my absence.”
A smile blossomed as
Charlotte turned to find Harry behind her. Finally, someone who found Anthony
and Michael as irritating and obnoxious as she did.
“Tell me, do either of
them ever approach anything with any respect or seriousness?”
He planted his feet and
put his hands behind his back--the stance of an officer used to being on the
deck of a ship and ordering others about. Oh, she hoped he’d share stories of
daring and danger with her one day, but they’d barely spoken since his return.
“Anthony can be very
serious, downright stuffy even. However, when Michael is in trouble, he quickly
reverts to a child.”
Harry’s frown deepened.
“I’d heard Michael had a certain reputation. I’d hoped I had heard wrong.”
“Oh, he does.” She
laughed. “A rake of the first order. Or, at least when I’m not around. If he’s
tasked with escorting me, then he becomes the most protective chaperone to ever
grace London.”
Harry gestured ahead and they
moved further down the corridor, away from the parlor where the argument
between Michael and their father was getting louder by the moment. There were
times Harry leaned heavily on his cane, and at other times, like now, it was
nothing more than an accessory, yet it was always with him.
Charlotte hated that he
was in pain but was so grateful he was home with said leg intact. From what she
understood, it had been a close as to whether the surgeon would allow him to
keep it.
A shiver ran down her
spine at the danger her brother put himself in for King and Country. She’d been
too young to really understand where he went, but after Father showed her his
name in the newssheets, Charlotte had saved every article where he’d been
mentioned and wasn’t above bragging about him when she could.
Oh, if only she could
experience just an ounce of the adventure Harry had. Charlotte nearly sighed.
Adventure was well and good and something she craved, though she didn’t exactly
wish to put herself in danger either. Unlike Harry, who faced it head on even
when the odds were against him.
“You are one and twenty,
correct?”
“Yes and directly on a
path to spinsterhood if those two have their way.”
“You know, my first night
back the three of us spoke—actually they spoke, and I listened—about all the
things they felt I needed to understand. One of those ‘things’ was you.”
Oh dear. Maybe Harry was
a foe after all.
“They warned me that you
are much too curious for your own good, that you need to be watched, and that
left to your own devices, you might go off somewhere and find yourself in all
kinds of trouble.”
I’m going to kill them both the first chance I have.
“I feared that perhaps
you were the one who hadn’t grown up and were still very much the
seven-year-old that I left behind.”
“Please, Harry,” she
begged. “I’ve enough of our family treating me as a child.”
“As well you should.” He
stood back and took a good look at Charlotte. Admiration shone in his deep
brown eyes. “What I see is a woman who knows her own mind, intelligent, and
sensible.”
Relief flowed through
her. Finally, a family member who wouldn’t hover. “Why can’t you stay here and
send Anthony and Michael off to the Navy?”
He chuckled and shook his
head. “My dear Charlotte. They’d not last a fortnight, which would result in me
becoming the heir and that would
never do.”
Charlotte reached out and
took his hands in hers. “I hope you’re home for a while and that we can spend
more time together.”
His smile softened. “Perhaps.
We shall have to see how this leg of mine progresses.”
Michael stormed out of
the parlor and headed towards them.
Harry pulled away from
Charlotte. “Well, I’m off to explore the grounds of this supposedly haunted
castle.”
She intended to disappear
just as quickly. That last thing Charlotte wanted to do was hear Michael
complain about their father. “Do warn me if you come across any ghosts.”
Harry chuckled. “You and
I both know that is not likely to happen,” he called back as he headed toward
the large castle door and Charlotte ducked into the sitting room.
“Oh, Harry, why couldn’t you have come back
sooner?”
However, she was happy he
was here now. If anything, it would make being with her other brothers
immensely more bearable.
With a grin, Charlotte
twirled around in the center of the room.
The history of this gothic castle fascinated her, even if the stories
were a bit embellished. She certainly believed people had been executed and
witches burned, not that they were really witches of course. Gruesome events
had transpired all throughout history, so it wasn’t surprising that some
horrific things happened here. But, what was truly entertaining was that people
actually believed there were still ghosts, fairies, and witches about. And,
even better, apparently a band of gypsies actually lived on Banfield land.
There was so much to
explore, and she couldn’t wait. But first, she must know where to find the
gypsies. She could have asked Harry to keep an eye out for them while he was
exploring, but she wanted to keep his good opinion of her and not make him
question if Anthony and Michael were correct and that she lacked sensibilities.
Not that she believed in
curses or fortune telling or any of that nonsense, but it would be delightfully
fun to have her fortune told just the same. Would they use a crystal ball?
Cards? Read the lines on her hands?
“Why in the world is Lord
St. Giles here?” Lady Cassandra Priske,
her cousin, entered the room and dropped onto a settee across from Charlotte.
Oscar, her cousin’s bothersome black poodle, hopped up beside his owner. Had
she known Cassy was bringing Oscar, Charlotte might have brought Princess, her
black cat, who thoroughly enjoyed chasing the yappy dog.
“Michael said he invited
himself. No idea why he’d want to be here if he didn’t have to be.” However,
she couldn’t complain of his presence or that of any of Michael’s friends since
they would keep her brother occupied. It was a shame Anthony hadn’t brought a
friend as well, then she’d have all the freedom she needed.
A breeze swept through
the room and goose pimples popped out on Charlotte’s arms just as Oscar barked
and stood at attention. She may adore old castles, but they could be downright
chilly at times.
“Heavens!” Cassy
exclaimed.
One would have thought
Princess just sauntered into the room by the way that dog was behaving. “What’s
wrong with Oscar?”
Cassy blinked at her
cousin. “Didn’t you feel that?”
Charlotte frowned
slightly. “Feel what?”
“Like a breeze or a wind
blow through the sitting room?”
Charlotte shook her head.
“It’s an old castle. All the rooms are drafty.”
Oscar barked again, much
to Charlotte’s irritation. If she could figure out a way to muzzle that dog,
she would.
“Ahem!” Someone cleared
her throat in the threshold and Charlotte glanced up to find the stern
housekeeper frowning at them. “We do not
have animals on the furniture at Castle Keyvnor.”
“Oh!” Cassy snatched
Oscar up in her arms and he nestled against her chest.
“Sorry, Mrs. Bray,”
Charlotte said. “We didn’t know.”
The woman narrowed her
eyes on Cassy. “Well, now you do.”
Now was not the time to
upset the housekeeper since there was still so much Charlotte needed to learn.
She pushed out of her seat and gave the woman what she hoped was a kind and
apologetic smile. “Um, Mrs. Bray, I wonder if you could answer a question for
me.”
“Yes, Lady Charlotte?”
she asked with suspicion.
“Well, I heard tale that
there were gypsies on Keyvnor land. Is there any truth to that?”
“The Earls of Banfield
have always welcomed their lot,” Mrs. Bray replied. “They have a camp near Hollybrook
Park.”
“That is delightful.”
Charlotte grinned at the news.
“You best not be
disturbing them,” Mrs. Bray warned. “We stay away from them, and they stay away
from us, even if his lordship welcomed them.”
“Yes, of course.”
Charlotte schooled her features. “I was simply curious. I would never dream of
visiting gypsies.”
The older woman shrugged
and then departed as Charlotte fell back onto the settee. “I can’t wait to have
my fortune told.”
“I think you’ve lost your
mind.” Cassy shook her head, and that nasty little dog barked.
As much as she wanted to
go, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if she were alone; and with that thought,
Charlotte slid forward in her seat.
“It’ll be a grand adventure, Cassy, just think! A band of marauding
gypsies telling tales by the fire. It’s just a lark, of course. Something to
pass the time while we’re here.”
“It sounds perfectly
horrid.”
Charlotte rolled her
eyes. “You are too stuffy by half, did you know?” She should have known Cassy
wouldn’t go with her. After all, her cousin never did anything daring.
“You think I’m stuffy? I
can’t wait to hear you tell Anthony, Harry, and Michael that you mean to visit
a band of gypsies.”
She wouldn’t tell them,
would she? Cassy and she may not enjoy the same pastimes, but they’d always
held each other’s confidences. “You can’t tell them!” Charlotte insisted.
“They’ll ruin any bit of enjoyment there is to be had here.”
“We’re here for the
reading of a will, not enjoyment.”
She sounded like Papa.
“You can find enjoyment anywhere,” Charlotte claimed. “Or at least you can if
your overbearing brothers don’t know what you’re about.” Even though Harry
didn’t appear to be overbearing, she wasn’t about to chance this either. “You
must promise me not to tell them.”
“I’m not going to tell
them,” Cassy vowed. “But I don’t think you should visit the gypsies. It could
be dangerous, and I have an awful feeling about Keyvnor. Don’t you feel it
too?”
Where Charlotte craved
adventure, Cassy’s imagination was as adventurous as she got. “I think your
imagination is running wild again.”
Oscar barked, hopped off
Cassy’s lap and bolted towards the doorway. Charlotte glanced up, hoping Mrs.
Bray hadn’t returned, but found Lord St. Giles leaning against the doorjamb
instead. Dear Lord, she hoped Michael wasn’t nearby. He’d ruin everything.
The poodle sat before the
baron and panted up at him as though waiting for a treat.
Nasty little beggar.
Then, St. Giles winked at
Cassy, completely taking Charlotte by surprise, before he gave a small bite of
something to the dog. Had St. Giles
taken an interest in her cousin? Charlotte wasn’t sure if she should warn him
away or be delighted and watch how the situation progressed. St. Giles did have
a certain reputation, not much better or worse than Michael’s, and they both
left broken hearts in their wake.
“What did you give him?”
Cassy pushed off the settee.
“Charmed a scullery maid
for a bit of pheasant.”
Charlotte nearly snorted.
Charm should be St Giles’s middle name, and the same could be said of Michael.
“Are you attempting to
bribe my dog?” Cassy demanded.
“Bribe? What an ugly
word.” St. Giles gave her cousin an unrepentant grin. “Simply making a new
friend. You can never have too many, after all.” Then he glanced towards
Charlotte. “And your secret is safe with me, my dear. None of your brothers
will hear of your expedition into gypsy territory from my lips.”
Blast, he had heard and her face heated with
embarrassment. “Lord St. Giles,” she greeted him.
The baron stepped further
into the sitting room. “I am a firm believer in having a bit of fun every now
and then, so I certainly wouldn’t stand in the way of you having yours.”
Perhaps St. Giles had
more substance than she’d given him credit for. Just because he was a good
friend of Michael’s didn’t mean there wasn’t some worth to him. Besides, she
could do far worse in having someone to take her side should her brothers learn
of her plans. As he said, you could never have too many friends. She just never
thought to consider him as such. “Thank you.”
***
“You sent for me, Puri daj?” Adam Vail asked his
grandmother as he stepped into the gypsy camp.
“It’s going to rain,” she
announced. Her back was permanently hunched from age and years of bending over
palms and telling fortunes. Her once black hair was more grey and white, though
she tried to smooth her frazzled mane back into a knot behind her head.
“You summoned me to tell
me it’s going to rain?” She was getting on in years, ancient even, though Adam
could only guess at her age. Grandmother
had never summoned him for something as trivial as the weather.
“You’ll be needed.”
He glanced around. The
brightly painted wagons were pulled into a half circle and the small cottages
along the tree line were lit from within, except for one. It belonged to his
grandmother. Adam had had it built, but she refused to live in something so
permanent. This was where the gypsies, his mother’s family, would spend their
winter. It had been this way since his father married Lela Boswell, daughter of
the woman who had sent for him.
A large fire burned at
the center of the camp, and many of his relatives moved about preparing food
and settling in. They’d only arrived a few days earlier, and he was glad they
were once again where they belonged. Or at least near where they belonged.
“Exactly how will I be
needed?” he asked.
“You shall see.” His
grandmother was often cryptic, and many times it irritated him to no end. But
Adam still did as she asked.
He glanced to the sky. It
had been overcast all day, but not a drop of rain had fallen. He wasn’t about
to argue with his grandmother, however. If she said it was going to rain, then
it was going to rain and he’d be needed here. He’d long ago stopped questioning
her premonitions because she was never wrong. The gift of second sight, his
mother had claimed. One he had not inherited.
“What are you working
on?” His grandmother sifted through beads, feathers, shells and gems. Selecting
some, discarding others, and pushing the ones she approved into a small leather
pouch.
“Making a talisman.”
“Why?”
“A young lady will need
it to protect her at Castle Keyvnor.” His grandmother sighed. “The vision is
not yet clear. I’ll know more when we meet.” She dropped a feather into the putsi.
“Just because Banfield
allowed you to live on his land does not mean you can go about handing out
talismans to the castle’s guests.” Several of Banfield’s relatives had recently
arrived to attend the reading of the late earl’s will. Adam couldn’t remember
the last time so many had been at the castle at one time, if ever.
“She will come to me,”
his grandmother insisted, not bothering to look at Adam as she continued
sifting through charms. “You know we never venture inside the walls, and I
don’t like it when you do either.”
Though how a putsi could protect anyone from anything
was beyond Adam, yet he was never without his, the one Grandmother and his
mother had made upon his birth. Too often she was correct about the unexplained,
and at a young age, he learned to trust in her counsel when it often had no
meaning and was beyond his understanding. There were simply things in the
world, and particularly at Castle Keyvnor and in this corner of Cornwall, that
could not be explained away with reason. If his grandmother believed that evil
dwelled within the walls, Adam believed her. Not that he’d experienced anything
evil on his visits, but the place was certainly haunted.
“Aren’t you concerned
that once the will is read you’ll be without a winter home?” The Earl of
Banfield was now dead, and Adam knew nothing about the heir.
“There is no reason to
worry about things that cannot be changed.” This was often his grandmother’s approach
about anything. But in his twenty-seven years, she’d also not had to worry
about where her family would spend the winter.
“What if he has you removed?”
She finally glanced up at
him, her dark eyes clouded with age. “Dear boy, all things will be as they
should be, as it always is.” His grandmother patted his hand.
If things were as they
were supposed to be, his gypsy relatives would be living at Hollybrook Park,
but his cantankerous grandfather refused to allow them safe harbor. His
mother’s people should be on his father’s land, not just on the other side of
the border, living off the generosity of a neighbor.
“You have not shaved,”
she nodded in approval.
“As is custom.” Adam
hadn’t followed all the Gypsy customs upon the death of his older brother, but
he’d not taken a razor to his face and would not until after Thomas was placed in
the ground. On second thought, he might not shave until next spring, when he
returned to London, only to further irritate his grandfather.
“You will wear white!”
“I will wear black,” Adam
corrected. There would be mourners at the cemetery, and they might believe he’d
lost his mind.
“Red handkerchief and
waistcoat,” she proclaimed.
Mourners were to wear
white for purity or red for vitality. As there was nothing even remotely pure
when it came to Thomas, or Adam for that matter, he’d wear red.
“Your stepmother, sisters,
and brother? Have they returned?”
His stepmother had taken
her children, four daughters and a son, from Hollybrook Park as soon as Thomas
returned home. She feared them becoming infected somehow. That was nearly two
years ago and he hadn’t seen them since. “No.”
If something happened to
his grandfather, his five younger half-siblings would become his
responsibility. Adam’s stomach churned at the very thought, though they
apparently were doing well without him or their grandfather.
Grandmother pursed her
lips in disapproval and shook her head. “You asked for forgiveness?”
“Yes, Puri daj, as you instructed.” Not that
his older brother had been in a state of mind to accept any apologies, and Adam
had been hard pressed to find something he was sorry for. It was his brother
who should have been seeking compassion, but his mind was already gone.
She nodded. “It is good.
You will make a better viscount.”
“I never wanted to be a
viscount.” His life was simpler before Thomas became ill. Hopefully his
grandfather was too stubborn to die, and Adam wouldn’t have to assume the
title, or responsibility to the estate, town and smugglers for many, many
years.
“A man like Thomas did
not deserve to be viscount.” Her dark eyes looked into Adam’s. “He was one of
them.” She practically spit out the word. “You, my dear boy, are one of us. A
Rom.”
If anyone else referred
to him as a dear boy, Adam would take issue. But, this was his grandmother.
And, he was Rom. It was
in his bones. He much preferred the life of a gypsy, though that wasn’t his lot
in life. He was destined to be the next Viscount Lynwood.
