he blazed. “Anything at all. Earlier, I thought I saw –“
He stopped abruptly, shaking his head as if to rid it of images he didn’t want.
“You thought you saw what?” Selina asked.
He dropped his hold on her.
“Nothing, I just – I’m tired. It must be the exhaustion. Timothy hardly sleeps, and I don’t like to leave him alone when he’s upset.”
This time Selina closed the distance between them, her hand reaching up to touch the corded muscles of his forearm.
“What did you see, Philip?” she demanded.
He lowered his head, staring unseeing into the fire. He didn’t speak for an age, and Selina’s heart thumped painfully as she waited.
“You’ll think I’m insane,” he said hoarsely.
“I’m positive that I won’t,” she responded without hesitation.
Finally, he looked up at her. Fear and confusion stamped across his face.
“I thought I saw Charlotte’s face,” he mumbled. “I thought – when Timothy was sitting there. When I was holding him.”
His eyes implored her. Though what he was looking for from her, she couldn’t have said.
“It wasn’t Timmy’s face, Selina. It was Charlotte. She was there.”
There. He’d admitted it. Admitted what couldn’t possibly be real and yet somehow was.
It was a lot to take in. This sudden belief in something that shouldn’t exist.
Philip wasn’t exactly a religious zealot. He’d never been what one would call devout.
Though he’d attended church with Charlotte, and with his mother before that, he’d never given much thought to anything outside the workings of the world around him.
When Charlotte’s mind had deteriorated, he hadn’t prayed. He’d sought the help of scientists and physicians.
When Timmy’s nightmares had begun, he’d looked to medicine and logical explanations.
But now…
He gazed at the woman standing only inches from him.
The firelight danced across her face, making her eyes glitter and her hair shine with reds and golds.
She looked otherworldly. Ethereal. And she’d helped Timmy more in thirty minutes than anyone before her had been able to.
How could he not believe in things like magic when this much beauty was standing right there in front of him?
And how the hell could he be thinking such things in the midst of all this chaos?
“Why don’t we sit back down?”
Selina’s soothing tone made him feel like a fractious horse that needed to be broken in. It made him feel foolish. As though he needed to be looked after.
Yet, he was the one who should be doing the caring. He’d failed in that respect. He’d failed Charlotte, and he was failing his son.
The weight of his grief was staggering, and he moved unsteadily to the chair she led him to before dropping into it, clasping his head in his hands.
“I sound insane.” He laughed harshly. “I know I sound insane.”
When Selina didn’t respond, he lifted his head.
She was looking at him in that unflinching, unnerving way that said she could see right inside him.
“When we die,” she said softly, “our souls leave our bodies. And if we’re lucky, they find peace and move on to somewhere better. Somewhere without pain or suffering.”
Philip hung on her every word, desperately seeking comfort, or at least answers in her words.
“But sometimes – if things are left unfinished or, or the person isn’t ready to go —”
She stopped and took a breath.
“They can’t leave, Philip,” she said matter-of-factly. “Their souls are trapped, unable to move on until they find their peace.”
He stared at her.
He’d known that something – different – was going on here. But to hear her speak the words. It made the whole thing terrifyingly real.
“So, Charlotte –“
“Hasn’t moved on,” she answered swiftly with a frankness that belied the unbelievable topic.
“But then why Timmy? Why torment him? Scare him?”
Already Selina was shaking her head.
“I don’t believe she means any harm to her boy,” she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “She was his mother. A mother’s love is one of the strongest forces in this world and the next. And if she felt as though she needed to protect him or still care for him –“
“But even if it’s true and this is – Charlotte—” He nearly choked on the name.
Could it be possible that he, Philip Everwood, Earl of Breton, respected Peer of the realm was sitting here discussing the ghost of his dead wife?
It seemed impossible. Insane. And yet deep down, he knew it was true.
“Why would she scare him so? If she has unfinished business with anyone, surely it’s me? I’m the one who let her down. It’s my fault she’s dead. Mine.”