Chapter Five

E ve pressed her hands to her cheeks the moment the door closed behind Lord Stamford. He wanted her secrets. Moments ago, he almost learned more than he would ever wish to know. She searched the darkness of the corridor for the shadow of the man she'd seen. He'd had dark hair and a hawkish nose. His clothing was of a much earlier style, and when their eyes had met, she sensed a pain that ravaged him even in death.

If Virgil hadn't called up to Lord Stamford, would he have also demanded to know what she was staring at? Eve rubbed her temples and tried to calm her thundering heart. He didn't know. Here, she was simply Eve. Not the odd daughter of a baron with no hope for a marriage match other than one with a man older than her father. In a sense, it was freeing. She didn't want Lord Stamford to see her as others of her acquaintance did.

There was something so lonely about him. Gruff and even cold. Then he touched her hair and his eyes softened, giving Eve a glimpse of a different man beneath.

The feel of his strong arms around her had sent heat spiraling through her center, awakening a desire she'd never known. She wanted to experience that again. To feel his solid body press against hers while he whispered in her ear or kissed her. A shiver of longing stole through her at the thought.

Alfred rubbed against her leg and purred.

She reached down to scratch his head, and he leaned into her touch. "I nearly forgot. Here's your cheese." She set the small piece on the floor, smiling when Alfred gobbled it down. When she rose, something thumped at the end of the hall.

The cat turned his head to stare into the shadows. Within them, she thought she saw something move.

"It's only reasonable that I should stumble upon a house with a ghost the first time I have the freedom to be seen as anything other than addled," she muttered.

Alfred let out an odd sort of meow, then ran down the corridor toward whatever awaited.

"Alfred, wait!" Eve ran after him. She wasn't afraid for his safety. She'd yet to see a spirit harm anyone. But animals sensed things that most people couldn't see. That's how she'd first discovered Rose. Her old kitty, Matilda, had watched the ghost with fascination and hadn't seemed to realize that Rose couldn't pet her.

The corridor turned right and ended in a short hall with three doors. Alfred waited at the last door, tail flicking. Eve slowly opened the door and found a staircase rising into the darkness. "A candle is in order, I believe. Wouldn't you agree, Alfred?"

He purred and scampered up the stairs.

Eve searched the adjacent rooms and found a candle and flint. As she followed the cat up the stairs, her breath quickened with anticipation.

A large attic lay at the top of the stairs. Old furniture and children's toys filled the space, along with boxy trunks and an old spinning wheel. It seemed as if the entire history of Greyhaven was tucked away up here, covered in dust and spiderwebs. A window at the far end let in little light, as the storm continued to dump snow.

Eve shivered at the chill in the air and rubbed her arms against a sudden draft as she wandered through the attic, marveling at the treasures from the past. One trunk stood open, and inside she found an old, faded green gown. Brown spots marred the delicate fabric, but the lace trimmings were beautiful. She held the gown aloft, wondering about the woman who might have worn it.

"It's all I have left of her," a man said softly.

Eve gasped and turned to find the man she'd glimpsed at the end of the corridor when she'd been with Lord Stamford. His image was faded and shadowed, and when he moved, she saw through his form.

"She must have looked beautiful in this."

Sadness filled the air, weighing down her heart until she felt the urge to cry.

"She never wore it. It was to be her wedding gift." The man came closer, his gaze fixed on the dress. Shadows gathered around them until she could barely see his form.

"What happened to her?" Eve asked.

He disappeared, and then his voice echoed all around her. "She loved me. There was another… He wanted her as well. Her heart, the treasure that it was, belonged to me." The shadows dispersed and he stood several feet away, looking out the window.

"Did you love her?" Eve's heart was breaking for the man. The sadness swamping her was nearly overwhelming. She'd never felt such emotions from a spirit. None at all with Rose. Who was he?

"More than anything. My family disapproved." The trunk lid beside her slammed shut, making Eve jump. "They refused to allow our marriage. I intended to marry her anyway."

Eve looked down at the gown in her arms. "What stopped you?"

Silence fell. When Eve looked up, the man was no longer at the window but directly in front of her. Startled, she took a step back.

"She was like you," he said.

She sucked in a breath, astonished at his response. Then he was gone.

"Eve?"

She turned toward the new voice, surprised to see Lord Stamford standing there. His hair and linen shirt were damp, as if he'd just come in from the storm.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked, threading his way through the cluttered attic to her side.

Her heart sank. It felt weighed down by the ghost's lingering sadness, mixed with the realization that Lord Stamford found her talking to an empty room. He would see her as addled now. How could he not?

"Eve?"

"I thought I saw Alfred come up here."

At the sound of his name, the cat hopped down with a heavy thump from a rocking chair with a padded cushion. He gazed at them, then sauntered to the stairs and left.

"How did you find me?" she asked.

"I saw the candlelight in the window from below. No one ever comes to the attic, so I came to investigate."

And found her talking to a ghost; only Lord Stamford couldn't see the specter. "Now that I've found Alfred, we can go."

"One moment." Lord Stamford stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away tears she hadn't realized were there.

Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. She was talking to herself and crying in an attic of abandoned furnishings with a faded, old gown in her arms. One did not get odder than that. Her chest grew tight, and a lump formed in her throat.

Lord Stamford studied her a long moment. Then he gently removed the gown from her grasp, folded it, and laid it atop the trunk. Without a word, he put his hand on her lower back and guided her back down the stairs to the corridor.

Once the door was shut, he turned to her.

Eve braced herself for the questions she knew would come. The curious stare and hasty retreat he would likely make.

The earl was quiet for a long moment. Then he offered his arm. "Would you care for a tour of Greyhaven?"

She glanced at his arm, then up to his eyes, searching them for what he might be thinking. As usual, his thoughts were carefully concealed behind a mask without any emotion. She fervently wished he'd show her more of the man beneath. He seemed haunted, even pained. Perhaps, with time, he'd show her why. Eve nodded and took his arm.

They walked in silence as he led her down a short flight of stairs into a long hall filled with portraits. "This is the family gallery. Every ancestor who lived here and some from before that."

The paintings were large, some taller than Lord Stamford. He stopped at each, telling her what he knew about them. For some, he gave only a name, such as with the painting of the man who would have been his great-grandfather. There was a wildness about his great-grandfather's eyes that Eve found unsettling, and she urged them on to the next portrait.

They came to an open space on the wall between two other portraits. When the earl would have continued, Eve pointed to it. "Where is this painting?"

Lord Stamford stared at the spot. "I don't know. It was gone when I arrived. I'm not certain what ancestor it would have been. Come along. Let me show you the ballroom."

Eve followed, wondering about the missing painting. She hadn't seen a portrait of the ghost she'd spoken with. She didn't even know his name. It was possible that he wasn't part of the family. Yet something in her heart said that his existence was linked to that painting.

The ballroom was larger and grander than Lady Levinson's, with its tall windows and gilded columns, though somehow sad in its disuse. Next, he showed her the library lined with bookshelves, with plush chairs, and sofas to read upon.

"Did you live here as a child?" she asked. They'd been speaking only of books until now. Nothing personal, and she very much wanted to know Lord Stamford.

He hesitated. "No. In fact, I hadn't been here at all until I inherited the title. This was once the family seat, but it hadn't been used in some time."

"Did it fall into disrepair?"

"No. There were tragedies here. After that, my family chose to never return."

Eve thought about the man she spoke with in the attic. Something had happened to the woman he loved. Something tragic. "Why did you choose to live here?"

"I had no choice," he murmured.

She turned to him. His dark blue eyes appeared haunted, then the emotion was gone. Buried behind a stony expression.

"Tell me about yourself, Eve. You've yet to share even your last name."

"Eve Langley," she replied softly.

He tilted his head. "I believe there is a Baron Langley. Your father?"

She nodded.

"Yet you fled unattended into a snowstorm. Is your father unkind?"

"Not precisely."

Lord Stamford stepped closer. His eyes glittered down at her. "Abusive?"

"No. He…" She crossed her arms over her stomach, unable to meet his eyes. "He has drawn up a marriage contract for me with a man older than himself, who intends to use me for an heir, then lock me away somewhere so that I do not embarrass his family."

"You are free to decline the arrangement though. That is your right," he growled.

"My father said he'd force me to agree to the match if I refused. I feared he would, so I fled."

He tipped her chin up, studying her face. "You're afraid of him."

Her throat grew tight. "I'm afraid of being locked away, forgotten, until I die. Like my grandmama."

Pain etched his features and the earl closed his eyes. When he opened them, he asked, "Where had you intended to go?"

"There is a church that shelters women near here."

He was silent.

Fear bubbled up her throat. Eve gripped his shirt. "Please, Lord Stamford. Please don't make me return. I'll leave once the storm is over, only please don't send me back."

One of his warm hands covered hers and the other stroked her jaw with gentle fingers. "You may call me Ambrose." His thumb traced her lower lip.

Butterflies took flight in her stomach at his tender touch and the sound of his husky voice. She'd never felt this way around a man. No one had ever evoked the flutter of her heart or the warmth in her chest.

"I'll not send you back, Eve. It is enough that one of us is imprisoned for life. A beauty as bright as yours should shine for all the world to see."

Then he lowered his head and kissed her.

Eve melted under his tender kiss, lost in the feel of his lips against hers. It was her first kiss, and it was more wondrous than she'd ever imagined.

Ambrose moved his lips gently over hers, as he pulled her close to his chest.

When he lifted his head, he traced her lower lip one last time with his thumb, regret already flashing through his eyes. He stepped away from her.

"Forgive me, Eve. I should never have done that."

Before she could protest, he strode out the library door, leaving her quite alone.