Angelica stared at him, past him, to a spot just a short way away. Her mouth opened and closed, producing a senseless stammer. She wanted to speak but words wouldn’t come. It felt like her lungs were being crushed because…
Because…
She could not voice it, could only stare.
“My God.” Randolph turned more fully toward her. With jerky movements he tore off his jacket and flung it across her shoulders. His arms reached around her waist, lifting her up and against his chest, carrying her toward the stairs, then down, back to the hallway and into her room. Settling her on her bed, he bundled her up in her blanket. “I’ll fetch your mother and ask the maids to draw a hot bath.” His palm touched her forehead. “Christ, Angelica, you should have told me you were so cold.”
He started to leave but she reached out and grabbed him. “Ra…ra…ndolph.” Her body was violently shaking, her teeth clanging together, but this was important. She had to tell him. “I… I sa…saw her.”
Randolph nodded. Just once. “I know.”
Except he didn’t. How could he when she was incapable of explaining. “I… I’m no…not talking ab…about the po…portrait.”
He stilled. His eyes sharpened. For a second she thought he’d respond, but then he just unclenched her hand from his wrist and settled it in her lap. “You’re overset, Angelica, and possibly in danger of getting terribly sick. I must do what I can to prevent that and you must rest.”
“But…”
“We’ll discuss this later.”
He left and Angelica sank back against her pillows with a quivering moan of despair. Tears pricked her eyes, not because she was cold or frightened, but because she had no idea how she’d ever convince her mother or Lucy or Randolph she hadn’t gone mad.
But the truth was that Lady Sterling was not at rest. Angelica still didn’t know what her ghost wanted, but she’d finally seen her, standing behind Randolph’s right shoulder and reaching forward in desperation.
“Mama?” Rose was bustling around the room when Angelica woke the next morning, arranging flowers that must have been brought in while she was sleeping.
Rose turned. “Lord Sterling cut these himself.” Her eyes twinkled with girlish delight. “Aren’t they stunning? They’re from the conservatory.”
She pressed her lips together as if to stop a bright smile, only to fail. Her hand covered her mouth to hide her laughter. “Lady Seraphina is quite put out by his fondness for you.”
Her mother’s good cheer was overwhelming, coming on the heels of what had been a dramatic day. Thankfully, the entity trying to communicate with her had offered her a reprieve. She’d experienced only comfort and warmth during her bath, and rather than being forced downstairs for dinner, she’d been allowed to enjoy a tray in bed while Lucy kept her company. It had been nice. Peaceful and pleasant.
Angelica blinked. “Lady Seraphina is back on her feet?”
Rose nodded. “Not even a broken leg would be able to keep her from going to the ball this evening. But she is doing better although I personally think she’s silly for not accepting the cane Mrs. Essex offered to lend her.” She sat on the edge of Angelica’s bed and looked straight into her eyes. A frown wrinkled her brow. “I’m more concerned with you, however. Tell me, how are you feeling?”
“Perfectly well.”
“Venturing into the attic alone was not the wisest decision, Angelica. Not only because you weren’t dressed for the cold but because you were obviously snooping.” Rose shook her head. “Whatever were you hoping to find?”
It was a good thing Lucy had mentioned the lie Randolph had fabricated in order to protect her reputation. It allowed Angelica to be prepared and able to keep the surprise from her face while her mother spoke. Apparently, she had found the attic door unlocked and had gone exploring. Randolph had happened upon her shivering form in the hallway when he’d gone to fetch his spectacles from his bedchamber.
Spectacles.
The thought of him occasionally requiring the assistance they offered was curiously endearing.
“Angelica?”
She forced herself to focus on her mother. What had she asked? She searched her brain until she located the answer. “The portrait of Lady Sterling. It was missing from the gallery.”
Rose stared at her in bafflement. “You’re lucky Lord Sterling’s not angry with you for abusing his hospitality. Honestly, Angelica. What were you thinking?”
“I don’t suppose I was,” Angelica murmured. “I’m sorry, Mama. I was only trying to sate my curiosity. That’s all.”
“Well.” Her mother huffed out a breath, then patted Angelica on her