Page 29 of Never Love a Lord
“That is precisely who I mean. Apparently your presence is keeping her from her eternal rest,” Sybilla said snidely. Then she closed her eyes and gave a brief sigh at the assault on her ears. It felt as though her hair should be blowing back away from her face, so loud were the furious screams.
“Don’t you feel guilty?” She turned to gauge his reaction and found him considering her thoughtfully.
“Your mother’s spirit is haunting you,” he said flatly.
“Yes.” She met his eyes, something inside her daring him to believe her.
“That’s quite an odd thing to say, Sybilla.”
“It’s quite an odd thing to experience,Julian,” she retorted.
“I can imagine,” he said mildly, and turned back to the bed. Sybilla could have fallen from her chair when he raised his arms and waved them at the offending piece of furniture, as if trying to corral an out-of-control horse.
“Hah!” he called out menacingly. “Get from here, you wretched woman, and leave your daughter in peace.”
Sybilla snickered lightly at his attempt, but then her face went slack as the chamber fell instantly silent. She looked to the bed, and there was no haze, no rippled shadow.
“Did it work?” Julian said, his voice full of good humor.
It was obvious when he looked at her that her own face conveyed great surprise.
“Yes,” she whispered. “She’s gone.”
His eyebrows drew together and he regarded her intently. “You were quite serious, weren’t you?”
Sybilla could barely nod. “Very,” she choked out.
“Sybilla,” he began hesitantly. “Sybilla, are you frightened of this room? Of... of your mother?”
She stared at him, considering his sincere expression, the pained deliberateness of his words. She could sense no intent to use trickery or maliciousness.
And yet, she could not trust him.
“No,” she said. “Of course not.” She swallowed. “Haven’t you heard? All we Foxe women are witches. We’re used to this sort of thing.”
He seemed unconvinced by her flippant explanation. “Are you a witch?”
“Perhaps,” she answered quietly. “Perhaps I am.”
“Would you like to come with me?” he asked, as if the thought had just occurred to him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“For the interviews. Would you care to accompany me?”
Sybilla gave him a sideways look. “Wouldn’t that somehow defeat the purpose, if the lady of the manor hovered over the servants as they were asked questions?”
“Would you interfere?” he asked.
“No,” she answered honestly. “None of them know anything of import. Save for Graves, but I can tell you now that you could take him a million miles from me, from Fallstowe, and he would still not divulge whatever morsel of information you seek, did it not please him to do so.”
“I’ll leave you to dress then,” Julian said promptly and turned on his heel, speaking to her as he crossed to the door. “We shall meet in the great hall in a half hour.” He paused with his hand on the latch and gave her a grin over his shoulder as his eyes quickly swept her form in the chair.
“Unless you need me to stay—for assistance, of course.”
Sybilla did not want to return his smile, but it was across her mouth before she could properly fight it back down. “I think I can manage, Lord Griffin.”
His smile lingered on his face, just as he lingered at her door for a moment longer, and then he was gone. Leaving her sitting with that damned amused smile pulling at her mouth.
