Page 24 of A Rogue to Ruin
It was more than that, however. Heknewthis house. When he walked inside, the entry hall would be round, and if he walked straight through it, he’d find himself in a grand hall with a staircase climbing the left side up to a gallery divided by arches from the space looking down at the hall below.
Taking a shallow breath, he walked up the steps to the open door and moved inside. His movements felt stilted and uncertain, as if he wasn’t entirely in command of himself.
Get hold of yourself.
But then he froze. The entry hall was precisely as he’d imagined it.
Of course it is, you dolt. You’ve been here before.
Why, then, was he reacting in this manner? It was almost as if he were moving in a dream.
Without thought, he strode through the entry hall and into the staircase hall. Again, he’d gotten every detail just right. His gaze lifted and fixed on the gallery above. He knew what he’d find up there…
“Rafe?”
He heard his name but didn’t turn.
Selina’s hand touched his arm. “Rafe?”
“I remember this, Lina. Before I walked into the house, I could describe the entry hall, this staircase. Up there is a gallery with portraits.” He started toward the stairs, stopping at the first step and turning his head to look at her. “Are you coming?”
She hurried to follow him. “What does this mean?”
“I’m not sure. But I think we did more than visit Ivy Grove.”
Selina halted when they reached the top, and he looked back at her. She’d gone a bit pale.
He reached for her hand and gave her a reassuring nod. Together, they walked through one of the archways that separated the gallery from the area overlooking the hall below. At one end there was a chaise, and at the other, a pair of chairs. “Those chairs aren’t right,” he said. “There wasn’t anything there before.”
“How are you remembering this?” Selina whispered.
He couldn’t answer. Squeezing her hand, he led her toward the chairs, then abruptly stopped in front of the portrait he’d been looking for.
A gasp from Selina seemed to take in all the air around them. “Who is that?” She looked from the portrait to Rafe and back again. “He looks just like you.”
“That’s because he’s our grandfather. We lived here, Lina. I’m certain of it.”
“We livedhere?” She looked around, the color still gone from her face.
He felt her shake, her body wilt. Releasing her hand, he clasped his arm about her waist and held her steady against him. “Our nursery was on the second floor. We could see the folly from the window.” He hadn’t remembered any of this before today, but being here, seeing the house, had brought a flood of memories back.
“But this house isn’t new, and our house burned down. Didn’t it?”
“May I help you?” a feminine voice asked pleasantly.
Rafe and Selina turned in unison. From her garb, the woman was a servant. Her mostly silver hair was pulled back severely from her round face and tucked beneath a cap. Her dark eyes settled on them with curiosity. “May I escort you downstairs to the ballroom?” Her mouth turned down, and she stepped toward them. She looked from Rafe to the portrait, her eyes widening, before returning her attention to Rafe.
“It can’t be,” she breathed, moving even closer, and stared up into his face. “You are the mirror image, but—” She blinked then squinted slightly. “Your eye…the orange spot…”
Rafe leaned toward her slightly, widening his eyes. “In my right eye, yes.”
“Dear Lord.” The woman went completely white before crumpling to the floor.
“Bloody hell,” Rafe muttered.
“The chaise,” Selina said, gesturing to the other end of the gallery.
Rafe bent down and swept the woman into his arms, bearing her to the chaise, where he carefully laid her atop the cushions. “She recognized me.”
