after all.” Haslemere turned to Gideon. “What say you, Darlington?”
Gideon shrugged. “Only that I’m glad I’m not Miss Honeywell. Unless she marries a duke, her mother will be berating her for losing a marquess until she’s old and gray. Better to marry a murderous marquess than die a spinster.”
Haslemere snorted. “I can’t say I’m sorry to see them go. Miss Honeywell seems a tolerable enough young lady, but she’s rather dim, and God knows my most terrifying nightmare pales in comparison to her mother.”
Gideon ran a hand over his jaw, thinking. “We have one fewer thing to worry about now they’re gone, but we both know Miss Honeywell didn’t imagine that ghost lingering outside her window last night.”
“That business with the moaning and pointing is more difficult to credit, especially given Miss Honeywell’s hysterical state when we reached her bedchamber. She might have imagined it.”
“No.” Gideon blew out a breath. “I don’t think she did. It’s obvious why our White Lady would want to chase off Miss Honeywell.”
“Well, she’s gone now. Perhaps that will be the end of it.”
Haslemere was doing his best to sound hopeful, but he wasn’t any more persuaded by this argument than Gideon was. Miss Honeywell’s departure wouldn’t be the end of this. They both knew it, and Gideon couldn’t allow any of his household to be put at risk. “We can’t take that chance, Haslemere. Darlington Castle has seen too much tragedy as it is. It ends here.”
“Indeed. Well, then, we’ll simply have to find your ghost, won’t we?”
Gideon glanced up into the pale gray sky. The few rays of feeble sunlight that pierced the thick cloud cover hanging over the castle turned everything a strange, eerie white. Light snowflakes drifted down, the icy pinpricks hitting Gideon’s upturned face.
He turned back toward the entrance hall. “I’ll ask Mrs. Briggs to gather the servants and tell them there will be no wedding.”
Haslemere chuckled. “They likely knew that even before you did, Darlington. Servants always know everything.”
Gideon dragged a hand down his face. It was true enough, and he’d wager one of his servants knew more than the others. “I don’t want anyone wandering into the grounds at night until we’ve put this matter to rest.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“Make a few changes to the sleeping arrangements.” And one of his servants wasn’t going to like it.
She wasn’t going to like it at all.
* * * *
“You’ve assigned a guard to watch my bedchamber door?” Cecilia stared up at Lord Darlington, certain she must have misunderstood him.
“Not a guard, Cecilia, a footman, and Duncan will remain in the hallway outside your bedchamber only at night. You may move about the castle as you always do during the day.”
Cecilia crossed her arms over her chest. “But I’m to be a prisoner every night, and afforded no more freedom than a criminal at Newgate.”
Very well, it was a bit of an exaggeration. She didn’t believe Lord Darlington was trying to imprison her, exactly, but he was hiding something. A ghost, an undead wife, a misplaced marchioness? He was chasing someone throughout the castle grounds.
“How curious you should assume Duncan is there to keep you in, Cecilia, rather than everyone else out. Though now you ask,” he went on, holding up a hand for silence when she would have interrupted, “perhaps it will keep you out of trouble, as well.”
Cecilia pinched her lips together. “I don’t require Duncan lurking outside my bedchamber door to keep me out of trouble, my lord.”
“You wouldn’t think so, would you? Yet when left on your own, you turn up in the unlikeliest places. Perhaps Duncan’s presence in the hallway will discourage you from wandering about.”
Cecilia huffed out a breath. “I have no idea what you mean, my lord.”
My, what an accomplished liar she’d become since she arrived at Darlington Castle. There’d been a time when falsehoods hadn’t flowed with such ease from her lips, but now not even a hint of a blush stained her cheek at this shameless untruth.
“No? You haven’t even the vaguest inkling?” One corner of Lord Darlington’s lips quirked in a faint smile. “If you require anything during the night, Duncan will fetch it for you. I prefer for you not to leave this bedchamber once you and Isabella have retired. Isabella must have an attendant at all times, so I can be certain she’s—”
Safe.
He bit the word off, but Cecilia took his meaning at once, and she seized on it. “Safe? Does this mean someone really did threaten