A Duke Under Her Spell: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Read online

  I do not understand. There must be an explanation. People do not just disappear.

  Giving up her search, Marybeth returned to the Dowager Duchess’s bedchamber to ensure that she was comfortable and that her fever had not returned. She made the Duchess another tea and then left her to be with her lady’s maid. Walking out to the stables she went in search of Oliver. Walking through the door she found no one. “Hello?” she called out. “Oliver?”

  A feminine giggling sound made her look up and she found Oliver’s head peeking down at her from the loft above. “Marybeth,” he greeted with a smile. “How are you settling in at the manor house?” he asked swinging his legs down over the side and dropping to the floor beneath.

  “I am settling in as good as can be expected,” she answered. “Am I interrupting?” she asked eyeing the edge of a woman’s skirt hanging down from the loft opening.

  “No, not at all. I always have time for my favorite girl.”

  “And how many of us are there exactly?” Marybeth teased.

  “Do not ask questions you do not wish to know the answers to,” he teased back.

  “Oh, dear,” she murmured in mock shock. “How will I ever recover from the scandal?”

  Oliver chuckled and led her over to a bench in the corner where they could both sit in relative comfort. “What is on your mind? I recognize that look on your face all too well. What has happened?”

  “There was an incident in the library.”

  “What kind of an incident?”

  “Lady Cordelia believes herself to have seen a ghost.”

  “A ghost you say?” Oliver’s eyes glittered with barely concealed laughter.

  “She claims that I am a witch and that it is all my fault, that I did it on purpose.”

  “Lady Cordelia is as cold as ice. I do not believe anything scares her, with the exception of her brother, of course.”

  “Her brother?”

  “Yes, but I could be wrong. She may just be a miserable person by nature.”

  “She does seem to be unhappy, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, I would say so.”

  “Do you think she could cause trouble for me? She seems quite determined to label me as an evil sorceress who consorts with the Devil himself.”

  Oliver laughed loudly at that. “You are about as evil as a newborn babe.”

  “Tell that to Lady Cordelia.”

  “Alright, I will.”

  “Oliver, you cannot go and actually tell her such a thing. You would be let go from Arkley Estate.”

  “Unlikely. I am as much a part of this estate as the Duke himself. We were both born here within the very walls of the manor house. We both grew up here, and it is quite likely that we will both die and be buried here. A mere frightened Lady will not be the end of me.”

  “But it might be the end of me and my work here so please keep your opinions, as vast and varied as they are, to yourself. I will just ignore Lady Cordelia. She does not live here, so it should be relatively easy to limit the time I am forced to be in the same room with her. I do not understand why she persists in calling me a witch. What is she afraid of? Does she truly believe me capable of such deeds?”

  “She is a person of small experience who has grown up her entire life listening to ghost stories.”

  “Ghost stories?”

  “Yes, the legend of the witch of Blackleigh Castle is a very popular one around here. I am certain that she grew up hearing it as well.”

  “The reason we met all those years ago. You came to the castle on a wager of bravery, but you never did tell me the story.”

  “Your grandmother never told you?”

  “No, she did not.”

  “Well…” Oliver rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “The story goes…” and he started in on the recitation his words and tone causing gooseflesh up and down her arms. A shiver ran down her spine as his voice wove for her the tale of the witch of Blackleigh.

  “The fairest of maidens with black raven hair,

  She fled through the forest her feet light as air,

  The Lord in pursuit his treasure to wrest

  From the thieving fair maiden’s breast.

  She ran through the night her safety forsaken

  In the ruins of Blackleigh where refuge is taken

  She hid the treasure in the darkness below

  Climbing the tower, the Lord did follow

  His threat to take her virtue stands

  as a reminder to every man

  for upon him then her curse she did bestow

  the Lord and his progeny her words made low

  ‘No matter the punishment ye may wreak

  Ye will never find the treasure ye seek.’

  And with that the maiden leapt from the tower

  Surrendering her life, but never her power

  For if ye go walking in the forest of Arkley

  Ye might just find the witch of Blackleigh.”

  “That sounds like a story my grandmother once told me about a woman in her family from centuries ago. She did not say it quite how you did just then, and she most certainly did not refer to her as being a witch, but it was very similar. Is that what has caused the superstitious nonsense about my grandmother and myself?”

  “I am certain that it has played a role, but it is not the only thing that has labeled both of you as such. You know that as well as I.”

  “Yes, I am afraid that I do.”

  “His Grace does not seem to mind your reputation,” Oliver noted.

  “Or yours,” Marybeth teased gesturing with her eyes up at the petite face of the kitchen maid peering down at them from the loft.

  “He is an understanding man.” Oliver grinned, winking up at the girl above them.

  “It would seem so. I will go and let you get back to entertaining your guest.” Marybeth shook her head in reproachful humor and then returned to the house. Tired, she went and laid down for a moment closing her eyes. She was not sure how long she slept, but she was startled awake by the sound of someone walking about in her room. Opening her eyes, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the pale white face of the man that Lady Cordelia had claimed to be a ghost peering down at her.

  “Who are you?” she cried out scrambling back against the headboard. “What do you want?” Marybeth was terrified and frantic. She prayed that someone would hear her and come to her rescue.

  The man said nothing but moved away from her and out into the hall where he turned the corner and disappeared. Marybeth scurried out from beneath the bed covers and raced out into the hall with a fireplace poker ready to hit the man if needed. Once again, she found no one there and no sign that there had ever been anyone.

  “What is the matter?” Felix’s deep voice asked her from behind.

  “Oh, you are back. I was unaware that you had returned,” she answered startled.

  “Yes, only just. I escorted Lady Cordelia to Bredon and returned directly thereafter. How is Mother?”

  “She is resting comfortably in her room with her lady’s maid at her side.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question. What has you so upset that you felt the need to arm yourself?” he asked gesturing toward the fire poker.

  “Lady Cordelia’s ghost.”

  “You saw the man again?”

  “Yes, this time he was in my bedchamber while I was sleeping. He frightened me.”

  “I would say so! That is unacceptable! The blackguard should be run through for his tomfoolery.”

  “I will admit that I find it to be a violation, but he did not harm me. As inconvenient as his presence is, I do not think that running him through will accomplish anything.”

  “It might teach the oaf some manners.”

  “Perhaps so, but it is clear that there is something afoot at Arkley Hall. Something unnatural perhaps, perhaps not, but certainly out of the ordinary. I searched and searched the area in which he disappeared the first time and found nothing. There was no means
of escape that I could see.”

  “Let us do the same here together. I will take this side of the corridor and you can take the other.”

  “Very well,” Marybeth agreed and they both began examining every surface to find signs of his escape route. They searched and searched, but once again came up with nothing.

  “If this continues, I am going to be tempted to tear down a wall.”

  “Let us hope it does not come to that. It would be a shame to damage your beautiful home.”

  “Until further notice, I do not wish for either you or my mother to be left alone unguarded. If he is willing to violate the sanctity of a young lady’s bedroom, then there is no telling what he is capable of. I cannot be responsible for risking either of your safety. Perhaps it would be best if you took up residence in my mother’s dressing room for a time until this passes and the culprit is caught?”

  “I appreciate the offer, but if he is a ghost as Lady Cordelia claims, then something as insignificant as a wall is not going to stop him.”

  “I do not believe in ghosts or any other such nonsense.”

  “So, you do not believe in the witch of Blackleigh Castle then?”

  “Nay, I do not.”

  Marybeth smiled. “My grandmother would have liked you very much. She held great affection for those with a mind to think for themselves.”

  “I am sure that I would have liked her as well. Any woman who raised you must be a magnificent woman indeed.” Their eyes met and held for a moment. Marybeth felt as if the world was spinning as she gazed into his deep green eyes. “You are quite unlike any woman I have ever met,” he murmured lost in the moment as much as she.

  “As are you, Your Grace, quite unlike any other nobleman, but my experience is lacking in variety to compare.”

  The Duke chuckled. “I assure you that I am quite ordinary in every respect.”

  “Somehow I doubt that very much.”

  “You are probably right. I doubt that there are very many noblemen among the peerage who have a ghost walking their halls, or perhaps this is a common occurrence among the corridors of the ton.”

  The amusement in his voice and eyes was infectious and Marybeth found herself smiling up at him once more. “I thought you said you did not believe in ghosts.”

  “Only when it suits my narrative,” he jested.

  Marybeth rolled her eyes laughing. “I will remember that in future.”

  Felix chuckled and then his gaze turned solemn once more. “In all seriousness, Marybeth, you cannot remain alone while this is occurring. Please do as I ask and move into my mother’s dressing room. I promise it will not be for long. The next time I see that man he will be clapped in irons for his mischief.”

  “How does one chain a disappearing man exactly?”

  “With great care and ingenuity.” The glint in his eyes told Marybeth that he had an idea.

  “Can I be of service in your plan?”

  “Nay, I would prefer that you make sure to keep yourself and my mother safe.”

  “I will do my utmost to see that it is so.”

  “I will have one of the servants to help you move your things into Mother’s room.”

  “That is not necessary. I brought so little with me. I am certain that I will be able to tend to it myself in very little time. Are you certain that your mother is content with this arrangement?”

  “I am.”

  “Very well. I will do as you ask, but only for a brief time. I do not wish to disturb the Dowager Duchess’s peace any more than is necessary.”

  “Nor do I, but you cannot help her if you are in harm’s way yourself.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  The two of them parted ways and Marybeth went to do as he had bid and moved into the Dowager Duchess’s dressing room. The Duchess seemed pleased with the company. The Duke retired to his workshop and shortly thereafter everyone could hear the beating and banging noises from anywhere in the house. Marybeth could not imagine what sort of trap that he was planning for their ghostly intruder, but whatever it was sounded as if it were going to be imposing.

  Marybeth went about her duties but found herself looking over her shoulder at every turn, afraid she might see the pale man staring at her again. It had been disconcerting to have such a creature standing over her while she slept. To make matters worse, she began to feel as if someone was watching her all the time. At one point she could have sworn that she had seen the eyes of one of the ancestral portraits following her around the room.

  An unsettling feeling to be sure. I will be glad when Felix has caught the intruder and we can all go back to sleeping safely in our own respective bedchambers. She disliked sleeping in the dressing room, cramped, without any windows. She longed for the freedom of her croft and the forest. Patience, she chastised herself. You will return when the work is done and not a moment before.

  Lying down, she rolled over onto her side and studied the portrait that she assumed was Felix’s father. Father and son had the same size and build, but that was where the resemblance ended. Where Felix was black haired and green eyed, the former Duke possessed wavy brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. The glint of humor she saw there was the one other thing that reminded her of Felix. Rolling over on her other side she examined the portrait of Felix’s mother on the opposite wall of the dressing room.

  Beautiful, her mind whispered in awe of the woman before her. The Duchess has been a stunning woman to behold before her illness had taken its toll on her body. Where now she was covered in a rash, the Duchess had once had flawless creamy skin. Her hair had once been lustrous, so black it almost looked blue in the lamplight.

  The Duchess’s emerald green eyes shined down at Marybeth with such kindness of spirit she found that she could not look away. Spellbound, she gazed into their emerald depths, so like the Duke’s. He had been so close to her earlier and she had found herself wondering how soft his lips would feel upon her own. Embarrassed at her inappropriate thoughts, she shook her head and returned to studying the portrait. Upon doing so she bolted upright and screamed.

  Chapter 8

  Upon hearing Marybeth’s screams, Felix dropped everything and raced into the house. He ran up the stairs and into his mother’s dressing room. He found Marybeth standing in front of the portrait of his mother feeling around the eyes with her fingers. “What are you doing?” he asked confused, wondering about her sanity.

  “They moved. The eyes moved.”

  “That is impossible.”

  “Nay, I know what I saw. The eyes moved. One moment they were emerald green, the next moment they were dark and hard. I know it sounds insane, Felix, but I am telling you the truth. As you can see they are now green again. I have felt all over the painting for holes of any kind but have found none. I have taken the painting off of the wall but found nothing. It is just as it was with the pale man, it vanished.”

  “How does something just vanish without a sign as to where it has gone or even where it once was?”

  “I do not know.”

  “For the safety of all, I fear it is a question we must answer.”

  “And how does one go about doing such a thing without tearing the entire manor house apart wall by wall?”

  “I do not know, but Mother’s dressing room seems as good a place as any to begin.” Felix moved forward and removed the painting from the wall. He examined the surface beneath and finding nothing summoned a footman to bring him tools from his workshop. “We will pry away the wall and see what can be seen.”

  Stepping into his mother’s bedchamber, he explained to the Dowager Duchess what he needed to do, and she gave her consent. When the footman returned with his tools, Felix began to pry away at the wooden panels beneath.

  The wood was knotted, painted white to brighten the room. It was not the sort of décor one would normally find in a manor house of such grandeur, but his father had built the room himself as a gift to his new bride out of the wood from the tree under which he had proposed to h
er. It had been struck by lightning and rent asunder days later and so the former Duke had taken the opportunity to use its wood to express his love.