Chapter Eight

A mbrose woke to the feeling of someone standing beside his bed. He opened his eyes, expecting to find Virgil, but no one was there. Eve's head was tucked under his chin, her arm across his chest as if she hugged him even in his sleep. It was the sweetest, most tender moment he'd ever had, and his heart filled with love.

Her father won't approve of the match , Lucien said.

Ambrose felt him then, like a cool touch to his forehead. "He must."

I thought as you did once with my own love. My family didn't approve.

"Did you marry her anyway?"

Eve shifted in her sleep.

He lowered his voice. "Did she love you?"

She was as bright as the sunshine . Lucien's voice came from a spot near the window. Men couldn't help but be drawn to her. There was another. A man, obsessed with her. He declared his love, but her heart belonged to me.

The same heavy sadness Ambrose had felt the night before returned, pressing down upon him. Whatever happened to the woman, he sensed Lucien blamed himself.

When she didn't accept his suit, the man accused her of witchcraft. Superstition was rampant, and soon, the town cried out for her death.

"Why did they believe she was a witch?"

She was like Eve. She saw and spoke with spirits. They said she communed with the devil . I knew all to be lies. She was too gentle. Had I married her as I wished, they would have killed us both.

"You sent her away."

She begged me to come with her but I had family responsibilities. I was to be earl upon the death of my father. Too many would be dependent upon me. At least, that's what I told myself. I sent her north, to Scotland. I'll never forget the last look she gave me. I'd devastated her. Broken her heart. Betrayed her. After she left, I realized the mistake I'd made but I never saw her again. Even in death, she's hidden from me.

"I've never heard this story. Your name is only spoken in regard to the curse. Your portrait is missing in the gallery."

I loved a witch . My family forced an alliance upon me shortly after. If I had not been lost in my suffering, perhaps I'd have seen my wife's treachery before it was too late. Even so, I'm not certain it would have mattered. She used me to conceive a male heir to the earldom, and then poisoned me.

"Bloody hell."

You are the first Grey to hear me. Do not make the same mistake that I did. If you love Eve, keep her at all costs.

"Hmm?" Eve murmured, eyes fluttering as if she'd heard her name.

Ambrose ran his hand down her back, savoring the satin of her skin. "I shall. Will you ever be with your love?"

Lucien was quiet for a moment. Only if I find peace.

Eve stirred and stretched.

The heavy sadness in the room lifted and he knew Lucien had gone.

"We need to hang his portrait," she murmured. "It's in the attic."

After they dressed, they found Alfred sitting by the attic door. Ambrose opened it, and Alfred slipped through, leading the way as they ascended the stairs.

"There's so much up here, how will we ever find it?" Ambrose muttered.

"It's large, like the paintings that hang beside it in the gallery. It can't be too difficult," Eve replied.

Alfred bumped against his leg, purring. When he bent down to pet the cat, the animal dodged and ran a few steps. He turned and looked at Ambrose.

"If you don't wish to be pet, then I won't," he grumbled.

"Is he trying to lead you somewhere?" Eve asked when Alfred walked a few more steps and looked back.

"Likely to his food dish."

She laughed and followed the orange tabby. "In the attic?"

Alfred wove a path through the furnishings, often looking back to make sure they followed, then stopped near the far wall. A large, rectangular object leaned against it, covered with a cloth.

Ambrose tugged the fabric away. Beneath it, Lucien Grey looked back from his portrait, eyes haunted with loss.

Alfred licked his paw, looking quite pleased with himself.

"How did you know what we were looking for?" Ambrose asked the cat.

"Animals seem to be sensitive to the spirits," Eve said. "I think they understand more than we know. I used to have a kitty that could see and hear Rose, my ghostly chambermaid. It was Alfred who led me to the attic that first time. He must see Lucien."

Ambrose was more enthralled by his ancestor, the man he'd believed had cursed their family. The sadness in his portrait was palpable. "It must have been painted after he'd lost her," he said.

"We should return it to the gallery."

"I'll have Thomas and Virgil assist me."

"I would like to check on my mare as well."

Ambrose put his hand on the back of her neck and gently pulled her close for a kiss. "We can see her next."

An hour later, they stood in the gallery. Thomas and Virgil maneuvered the large portrait into the empty space where it had once hung.

They'd gone to the stable first, where Thomas informed them that Eve's mare was healing fast. She'd be able to travel in another day or two.

Ambrose expected Eve to be happy with that news. Instead, she seemed troubled.

"Right here, my lord?" Virgil asked.

"Yes."

"Wonder why anyone would put one of your ancestor's portraits in the attic. The cursed thing is heavy." Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow.

Virgil set the ladder up. "One of us shall have to help set the painting from above while the others lift."

"I'll assist Thomas," Ambrose said. Virgil was only a few years older than he but of smaller stature.

Together, they hoisted the painting and set it into place. The air changed, growing cooler. Neither Virgil nor Thomas seemed to notice. They gathered their tools, and then returned to their duties, leaving Ambrose and Eve alone in the hall.

"It looks perfect," Eve said.

"Lucien Grey is where he belongs. With his family."

No, Lucien said. I belong with her.

Ambrose felt something he couldn't quite name, something he hadn't felt before.

"She's here," Eve whispered.

Thank you . Don't let her go.

Then he was gone.

Eve wiped a tear from her eye. "I think he found peace at last."

Ambrose brushed the moisture from her cheeks and wrapped his arms around her. "As did I."

"I'm glad," she replied, but the happiness didn't reach her eyes.

"What is it, darling?"

"I must face my father. He'll be quite angry because he wanted the shipping partnership with Viscount Barton."

"Any man more concerned with his business than his daughter's happiness is due some disappointment." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You won't face him alone. We'll return to your family's home and sort out a marriage contract after I send for the special license."

"What if he won't agree?"

"I shall marry you regardless. If we don't have a marriage contract, I will have my solicitor draw up a trust for you. You'll never want for anything."

She smiled then, the joy plain on her face. "All I need is you. I love you, Ambrose."

"You have my heart, Eve. I'll love you throughout eternity, like Lucien." He'd marry Eve and spend his life loving her and the children they were blessed with. Any who could see and hear spirits would learn to interact with a specter even in a crowded ballroom. And there would be balls.

Ambrose was free to leave Greyhaven. Madness was no longer his fate. Love was.