The Lord and the Banshee (Read by Candlelight #13) - Gillian St. Kevern Page 0,6

to the local legend that the father of her child was one of my ancestors.”

“What makes this case so interesting is the fact that Una was recognised by those who knew her when she lived,” Pip said. “Until they saw her spirit in the castle grounds, no one had connected the O’Flahertys and her unhappy fate.”

“Since then, misfortune has stalked the Lords of Connaught.” Miss O’Flaherty licked her lips. “The eldest son of the Lord who refused to aid Una died that same month. His younger son inherited the title, but lost three children and his first wife in childbirth. Not a generation of the family escaped some tragic loss.”

Explaining why the castle had descended to so distant a branch of the family tree as an American journalist? “And the late Lord Connaught?”

Connaught shrugged. “I never met the man.”

Miss O’Flaherty frowned at her cousin. “Uncle Vernon was always very kind to me and mama. After my father died, he invited us both to live with him. Mama was his housekeeper, and he really made us feel as though this house was our own.”

“He did not marry?”

She shook her head. “His fiancée died in a riding accident. He never forgot her.”

“A true romantic, by the sounds of things,” Pip added. “The banshee made only two appearances in his lifetime. Presaging the death of Miss O’Flaherty’s father, and again, during the late Lord Connaught’s final illness.”

“I take it that she has been more active of late?” Cross asked. “An appearance—any deaths?”

“Not yet.” Pip sounded almost mournful. “Though of course, it has not been two nights since we saw her.”

Cross could have happily kicked him. “I am not so fond of banshees that I would wish death on anyone in order to have the pleasure of her company.”

“You take this legend seriously then, Lord Cross?” O’Flaherty raised his eyebrows. No mere hint, that was a definite sneer. “I did not think you were the kind to put much weight on such matters.”

“On the contrary,” Cross stared back at him. “I take any threat to Mr Leighton’s safety seriously. I do not intend to see him—or anyone else—meet a premature end.”

4

“I’m delighted to see you, but is it necessary to be so dramatic?” Pip looked up from buttoning up his dinner jacket. The three of them had gathered in Pip’s bedroom, a good-sized room with a high ceiling and corresponding draught on the second floor.

Thomas pulled on his suit. “What do you mean?”

“‘I take any threat to Mr Leighton’s safety seriously. I do not intend to see him—or anyone else—meet a premature end.’” Pip exhaled. “Anyone might think you were accusing Lord Connaught of planning to do away with me!”

“We should be so lucky.” Julian had been first dressed, but, unsatisfied with the ties he’d packed, had raided Pip’s wardrobe for one that better suited his idea of dining in a house with a possible banshee. He seemed torn between pale grey and the crimson tie from the train.

Pip shot him an injured look. “I cannot imagine why I was so pleased to see you. Have you been worrying Lord Cross? He looks tired.”

Julian glanced up from his ties. “I thought the same thing. I concluded he was missing you—though come to think of it, your absence is a lot more restful than your presence.“

Thomas cut in before either of his companions could become too interested in his wellbeing. “What’s the story? You saw the banshee?”

Pip perched on the end of his bed, an ancient four poster that dominated the stone walled room. “There’s not much more to tell you than was in my letter. Mrs O’Flaherty suggested that since it was such a fine night, we might sit on the terrace after dinner and look over the lake. It is a fine view on any occasion, but with the full moon just passed, it is quite striking.”

Thomas nodded, trying to picture the scene. “And the banshee?”

“Appeared on the grounds. A ghostly figure, clad in white and with an ethereal glow to her. She looked towards the house, great sorrow visible on her face—” Pip paused, flinging out a hand, “and pointed at myself.”

“I understood banshees wailed.” Julian picked up the light grey tie.

Pip shot him an annoyed look. “Some of them wail. This one points.”

“Does she have a history of pointing?” Thomas asked.

Pip paused. Torn between delight that Julian and Thomas were taking an interest in his hobby, or suspicious that they were going to cast doubt on his banshee? “Yes, she does.