Page 53 of Captivating the Countess
They both knew better. She hadn’t been curious until he and his ghostly nag came along, but Rain kissed her and hurriedly finished dressing. His valet would gossip. It wouldn’t take long for the gossip to spread to his sisters’ maids. And his sisters knew he’d been here last night. Bell didn’t deserve that kind of speculation. His instinct was to protect.
He need to throw the entire company out of the house so he could have Bell to himself for a while.
For the sake of Bell’s reputation, he slipped down to the duke’s suite and let his father’s servants find him in last night’s rumpled clothes, sleeping in one of the sitting room chairs.
That should keep gossip to a minimum for a while longer.
Nineteen
Grateful she had toldButton she didn’t need the maid’s services until after the guests departed, Bell stripped the stained sheet from the bed and rinsed it out in the tub. The luxury of having her own tub... She could never go back to Craigmore if she became so spoiled as to expect hot baths at any time.
Unable to resist, she filled the tub with hot water and bathing salts and leeched away any aches from the evening’s exertions.
Fear over what she and Rain may have done had her stepping out and hurriedly drying off rather than dreaming of repeating their performance. Was she even now carrying Rain’s child? One possibly inhabited by the spirit of his grandmother? If the chandeliers quit swaying and doors quit slamming...
She’d never wanted to experience chaos, but she prayed for a slamming door now.
She hung the sheet over the tub to dry and locked her bedchamber door. Then she returned to her original room in the main residence and threw back the covers as if she’d slept there. She had decisions to make and didn’t wish to be forced into them. She had spent much of her existence helpless, but now that she was free, she meant to take charge of her future.
She dressed in her usual dark office gown, marking her as paid staff and not one of the guests. She’d dressed like this even at Craigmore. It was simpler to go from kitchen to field to village wearing few petticoats and dark colors. She might be a countess with her own estate, but she would never be an idle lady trapped in corsets and crinolines.
Thinking of Lady Phoebe in her split skirts, feathered hat, and riding a penny-farthing all over Edinburgh, Bell smiled as she descended to breakfast. Malcolms were known for eccentricity. Rainford’s family managed a form of unconventional decorum.
The lush tropical plants, the odd pets, and the need to explore séances and astrology were outcroppings of family talents. The duke’s family simply had no need to explain their weird abilities.
She stopped to tell Mrs. Franklin that she wouldn’t need a maid in her suite yet. She didn’t want to cause additional trouble until the guests were gone. The housekeeper nodded and bustled on.
Rainford wasn’t in the breakfast room when she entered, but it was obvious gossip of the séance had gone around. Everyone wanted a word of hope. She could offer them nothing and refused to be an object of speculation, so she didn’t join in.
The slam of trunks hitting the marble stairs had everyone anxiously glancing up, but no chandeliers swayed, no doors slammed. The conversation turned to the weather and the train schedule. Unless Alicia summoned more excitement, it appeared Rainford was correct, their guests were escaping the madhouse.
Lady Pamela arrived on Teddy’s arm. Bell had thought the actress had agreed to act in the play to attract one of Rain’s titled, wealthy guests, but perhaps she’d misunderstood the lady’s need to be seen. Or the play last night had been such a fiasco, that the actress hadn’t received the offers she’d wanted.
That was an unworthy thought. Bell finished her toast, said her farewells to the guests preparing to leave, and returned upstairs to see if the duke was ready for visitors.
She ran into Rain coming from that direction. He’d taken time to dress properly in his usual stiff collar and tailored suit, the very picture of a titled, wealthy gentleman—except his features were rigid with determination and his gaze, steely.
Instead of being intimidated, she enjoyed the view. Daringly, she took his arm when he approached. “How is your father?”
He unbent slightly to crush her hand in place as if seeking reassurance. “Eager to pretend I can heal him. Are you ready to try once more? I despise raising hopes, but sometimes, hope eases pain and allows patients to live a little longer.”
She heard the despair behind his resolve. “I’ll admit that using your voice seems a peculiar means of healing, but if hope helps, then perhaps soothing voices do, too. We can only try.”
With a bleak bow, Rainford led her into the ducal suite as if this were a funeral march.
The duke’s manservant greeted them with anticipation, so he’d heard about last night’s séance. His Grace sat up against his pillows, looking paler and more like a silver-haired skeleton than ever. His breakfast tray hadn’t been touched.
But his eyes were bright and clear as he watched them enter. “I’ve studied all the Malcolm journals on healing, and not once has anyone mentioned the power of voice. We do, however, have family members who can command with their voices. Or entice, like sirens.” He appeared amused at the idea.
Rainford grimaced. “I shouldsingthe evil spirits away?”
“Is that any different than a laying on of hands as they do in some primitive religions?” Bell asked. “Just because we can’tseespirits, doesn’t mean they don’t exist or respond to different energies. So let us keep open minds.”
“I’m not singing.” Rainford gestured for his father to lie down in his bed. “I am not convinced that the ghost even means me. Perhaps she meant Father to use his voice.”
“My mother didn’t live to know the names of my children, so she doesn’t know yours,” the duke reminded them. “If she’d meant me, she’d have said so.”
Bell let the men quibble while she concentrated on her sister’s explanation of how Iona enhanced her husband’s gift by bonding.
