Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

LEVI OVERTON, DUKE OF LENNOX

R oxburghe reached Miss Rowe first, igniting an unexpected flash of envy that rippled through Levi's body. He wasn't certain why she'd shoved him aside to rush—coatless—across the snow-covered grounds toward the street, but her behavior concerned both himself and Roxburghe.

Whose fingers didn't need to touch Miss Rowe's bare arm, even if it was merely to draw her attention…

Levi's eyes narrowed, and he quickened his pace to reach her side, fighting the desire to smack Roxburghe's hand away from her shoulder.

"Miss Rowe, is anything the matter?" Levi asked, forcing his fist to unclench. "You seem quite distraught."

She turned, her porcelain face straining into a half-smile. "I thought I recognized someone strolling by the house, but I must have been mistaken. I apologize if my behavior caused you any concern."

Miss Rowe offered a hasty curtsey to both Levi and Roxburghe, then crossing her arms over her chest and shivering, she hurried back to the house, disappeared inside, and slammed the door behind her, knocking loose a shower of snow that fell from the roof's edge and dusted the stoop beneath.

"That was bizarre." Roxburghe glanced at Levi as he strode to his coach.

"Not as strange as the incidents I've witnessed since Mr. Philbert's death," Levi muttered, climbing into his carriage.

Frowning, Roxburghe followed, claimed the bench opposite Levi, and sank onto the cushion, stretching out his long legs. "You said there was nothing amiss at your residence."

"I didn't want to cause any alarm." Levi's eyes flicked to the frosty window as his long-time coachman, Mr. Spencer, snapped a whip, encouraging the horses into a slow trot. "But your accusation of a potential haunting is far more accurate than you suspected."

"Why didn't you mention anything earlier?" Roxburghe shifted on his bench, leaning forward.

Levi forced his attention back to his friend. "The notion of a phantom is a lark. An actual spirit will drive people from my home."

Roxburghe chuckled and reclined against the coach's wall, tucking his hands behind his head. "Is that what's concerning you? I thought you didn't like visitors."

"You," —Levi stabbed his finger at Roxburghe— "don't like visitors. I happen to enjoy social functions."

"And it will be difficult to convince a lady to inhabit a haunted manor." Roxburghe grinned.

"I'm not looking for a wife." Levi's eyes narrowed. "There are four of us still participating in your ludicrous wager, and I have no intention of losing to Beaufort."

"If not a wife, then what are you searching for?"

"A plausible reason for why my possessions keep moving!" Levi's ire rebounded off the coach's ceiling.

Roxburghe's playful demeanor vanished, and dropping his arms, he leaned forward again, adopting a serious tone. "Have you questioned your staff?"

"Of course." Levi struggled not to roll his eyes. "That was the first step in my investigation."

"And?" Roxburghe prodded when Levi didn't elucidate.

"While Mr. Northcutt and I were speaking with the housekeeper,"—this was the part he didn't want to admit—"a deafening crash echoed down the hallway."

Roxburghe stroked his chin. "What caused the crash?"

"A vase."

"And where was this vase?"

"Scattered in pieces across the library, which was vacant when the three of us arrived." Levi fell silent, uncertain whether Roxburghe would believe the fantastical story or whether his friend would think him touched in the head.

"That horrific blue one in the corner?"

Levi nodded once.

"For once, I agree with Mr. Philbert." The corner of his mouth pulling, Roxburghe settled back on his bench.

"It was a family heirloom!"

"That doesn't change its lack of beauty." Roxburghe gestured toward the darkening street. "Is your driver taking the slow route?"

Levi scowled at him. "We would've arrived prior to nightfall if I hadn't needed to drag you from Miss Rowe's residence."

"For someone who doesn't want to spend a significant amount of time in any woman's company, I do frequently find you at Miss Rowe's house." Folding his hands together, Roxburghe leveled his gaze with Levi. "Is there anything else you wish to reveal to me?"

No! He did not. He most certainly did not want to discuss the heat that flowed through his body when he spied Miss Rowe across the room or how he longed to inhale the scent of lily of the valley that clung to her skin, to brush his fingers through her unusual henna-colored hair, to taste her sweet lips…

"It is merely because you," Levi said, forcing a reproachful tone into his voice, "are always there."

Roxburghe grinned, accepting Levi's allegation. "My presence has received no complaints from my fiancée, her sister, or Miss Rowe."

"Has mine?" Levi frowned, perturbed by the thought of his visit causing Miss Rowe displeasure.

"Not that I've heard, but I'm certain you'll have time to irritate all three ladies before the month is through." Roxburghe laughed.

Before Levi could respond, the coach door ripped open, and a frigid gust of wind galloped into the cabin, coating them in goosebumps.

Beaufort poked his cherubic face into the carriage, his cheeks flushing with the warmth of at least two strong drinks. "I'm pleased to see you weren't set upon by wild dogs."

"Was that a concern?" Levi asked, rising and, after Beaufort stepped away from the door, descending from the coach.

"Merely an amusement to pass the time." Beaufort, clad in only a black waistcoat, having apparently forgotten his great coat inside, crossed his arms over his chest and shivered. "However, I'm grateful I didn't need to seek you farther than your coach."

"Where was your destination?" Roxburghe asked, climbing from the carriage.

"I had none." Exhaling a visible breath, Beaufort grimaced. "My task was to find you, nothing more."

Levi clapped an arm around Beaufort's trembling shoulders and escorted him toward the house. "Then it is fortunate you happened upon us so quickly, as you might have frozen to death in your current state of undress."

Glancing down at his waistcoat, Beaufort chuckled. "Ah. It appears I don't need to lodge a complaint with my tailor."

They were met at the door by Mansfield, who yanked it open the moment Levi set his foot upon the doorstep, his dark brown eyes skating over Beaufort's shivering form and lack of outerwear.

"I'm so pleased you decided to join us." Mansfield's gravelly voice rumbled across the grounds. "We thought you may have forgotten the way home."

"Lennox delayed our return," Roxburghe said, appearing behind Beaufort and ushering them into the house.

"I can only think of one reason to avoid the comfort of my own bed, and that is for a woman's." Mansfield bent his head toward Roxburghe and lowered his voice. "Is your affliction contagious?"

"If you recall, it was Grisham's condition first," Roxburghe replied with a snicker. "And yes, I believe the emotion is infectious."

"Damn." Holding up his hands as though he expected the appendages to protect him, Mansfield took one large step backward from the group.

Roxburghe laughed. "Proximity to myself or Grisham won't prevent you from love."

"What will?" Mansfield asked, the space between his eyes pinching.

"Death."

Mansfield swore, his loudening blasphemies drawing Grisham and Warwick—albeit a bit more slowly than Grisham—from the parlor.

Grisham's brown eyes immediately sought Levi.

"What did Roxburghe do?" Grisham asked, inclining his head toward Roxburghe as he held out a glass of sherry.

"Threatened Mansfield with marriage." Levi gratefully accepted the offered beverage and swallowed half its contents in one gulp.

"Did you have a difficult time collecting Roxburghe from his fiancée's house?" Grisham asked when Levi lowered the glass.

Levi gestured toward Roxburghe with the sherry. "He was reluctant to leave."

"Lies!" Roxburghe's voice carried across the foyer. "Don't blame your fear on me."

"Your fear?" Grisham's eyes flicked between Roxburghe and Levi. "What is the great Duke of Lennox afraid of?"

"Nothing." Levi drained his glass.

"His new house guest," Roxburghe said, winking at Beaufort.

Grisham and Warwick shared a confused, uneasy glance. "There's no one here but the six of us."

"And Mr. Philbert." Roxburghe managed to get the words out before laughter overtook him.

Mansfield strode around them, his intense gaze focused on Levi. "Have you seen his ghost?"

"No." Levi glowered at Roxburghe.

He hadn't intended to share this concern with his friends, but since Roxburghe had left him no option, perhaps he could put their intellectual prowess to use.

"But," Levi said, stopping Mansfield before he turned away, "I have heard things."

"Tell me." Delight glowed in Mansfield's dark eyes.

"Tell him after we've resumed our game." The muted thud of the Duke of Warwick's cane echoed in the foyer. "I'm besting all three of them, and I'd loathe to let them escape before I've taken their money."

"As you wish," Levi said and gestured toward the parlor.

Beaufort sighed, his shoulders slumping forward. "Now, I recollect the reason I volunteered to find you."

"Our luck is changing." Mansfield indicated Levi and Roxburghe with a jerk of his head. "Warwick cannot win against all of us."

"Yes, I can," Warwick replied over his shoulder, leaning heavily on his cane as he limped back into the parlor.

Before Levi could enter the room, Roxburghe touched his arm, directing him to the side. Waiting until the other men passed through the doorway, he lowered his voice.

"Warwick's situation seems to be deteriorating; he's worse than when I last saw him."

"He won't hear reason," Levi said, directing Roxburghe farther down the hallway. "It's been a fortnight since he's stepped one foot outside his lodgings. I had to remind him of the rules of the bet to force him out of bed."

"Did you threaten violence?"

Levi gave in to the urge to roll his eyes. "Warwick is dangerous… for an invalid, especially with that cane."

"First,"—Roxburghe lifted his finger—"he'll never forgive you for bestowing that title upon him."

"He isn't going to learn of it," Levi said through clenched teeth.

"And second," Roxburghe said, adding another finger, "I wouldn't have allowed him to make that many excuses before I intervened."

"You've been occupied with other pursuits," Levi countered, irritation flowing through him. "I'm not responsible for Warwick's decisions any more than I am yours."

"However, you'd say something to me." Roxburghe tilted his head as if daring Levi to argue.

"Your Graces!" Beaufort's playful voice boomed from the parlor. "It's quite rude to keep four dukes waiting while you gossip."

Roxburghe spun with an evil smile. "We were discussing you."

"Of that, I'm certain." Bounding into the corridor, Beaufort offered them a low bow, his hand scraping the floor. "However, I prefer you speak about my winning attributes in front of me."

"Veto!" Mansfield growled, his deep voice ringing.

Beaufort leaned back, his head vanishing as he peeked into the parlor. "Do you not find the topic of me stimulating?"

"I would have used the word taxing." The soft clink of a coin punctuated Mansfield's statement.

Grisham laughed, adding his coin to the center of an octagonal table as Levi entered the parlor. Warwick remained stoic, his gaunt face hiding any emotion.

His friend's retreat from their group over the past few weeks concerned Levi. However, when he'd expressed that sentiment at breakfast this morning, Warwick summoned his coach, threatening to depart and not speak with Levi for the remainder of the season. Levi had no option but to drop the subject… for the moment.

Perhaps he could persuade his friend into performing the exercises strongly suggested by Warwick's doctor and Mansfield, who'd read a great deal of books on the subject, some other way. Levi just needed to think of an irresistible type of motivation.

"The twenty-eighth," Grisham said, breaking into Levi's thoughts. "And I expect you all to attend my wedding. I won't accept any excuse."

Grisham stared directly at Warwick as he issued the command.

Even Grisham had noticed Warwick's absence.

Drawing his cards toward his chest, Roxburghe smirked, "I have a prior commitment that day."

"Which is?" Grisham asked, shifting his narrowed gaze to the left.

"I'm marrying Miss Webb."

Eyes bulging, Grisham slammed his cards face down on the table. "You cannot have your wedding on the same date as mine!"

"Then pick a different day." Roxburghe flung another coin at the pile in the center of the table. "My fiancée and I have no desire to postpone our exchange of vows or the carnal activities that follow."

Grisham copied Roxburghe. "I was engaged first."

"I'm out," Beaufort said, tossing his cards toward the small mound of sovereigns.

"Me as well." Mansfield glanced at Levi.

"I'll play," Levi replied, adding a coin. "But to be clear, it's for money, not a wedding date."

Warwick merely nodded his agreement. His fingers slipped on the sovereign's slick surface. No one spoke as he struggled to grasp a coin from the stack before him. With a groan, he shoved the money toward the center of the table, then glanced up, his mouth pulled into a sour frown.

"Does anyone have anything to say?" He scowled.

Beaufort lifted his snifter, saluting Warwick. "I'd take your cane and all the difficulties resulting from your injury over Lennox's new houseguest."

Everyone laughed, even Warwick, who succumbed to a soft chuckle.

"I'm still waiting to hear the story of Lennox's supernatural encounter," Mansfield said, then drained his glass.

Rising, he strode to a table hidden in the corner of the room and retrieved a crystal decanter of sherry. After replenishing his cup, he walked around the table and filled each glass.

Lifting his glass, Levi saluted him. "Let Roxburghe and Grisham settle their marriage issue first."

"What do you suggest?" Beaufort asked, his eyes sparkling. "Fisticuffs? A duel?"

A loud creak echoed in the room above them, drowning out Levi's sarcastic reply. Swallowing, he lifted his gaze and stared at the ceiling. The creak came again, this time from the opposite side of the second-floor corridor.

Mansfield sucked in a sharp breath. "Could it be a maid?"

Shaking his head, Levi lowered his gaze. "Only Mr. Northcutt and Mrs. Grove are here this evening."

"And where are they?" Mansfield asked, his eyes on the ceiling.

"Playing vingt-et-un in the kitchen." At least, based on his earlier conversation with Mr. Northcutt, that was where Levi assumed they'd retired.

Arching his eyebrows, Mansfield leaned toward him. "You know this for a fact?"

Levi grimaced and drained his glass a second time. "I suppose we should investigate."

Everyone but Warwick rose.

Beaufort nudged the chair. "We're not leaving you alone here for Mr. Philbert to possess."

"He wouldn't want my body," Warwick grumbled, banging his cane on the floor.

"Given his current circumstance, he might make the sacrifice." Beaufort danced away from the tip of Warwick's cane. "You're not using your flesh for anything but scowling."

The goad drew Warwick from his seat, and he hobbled after Beaufort, chasing him from the parlor.

Roxburghe clapped Grisham on the back as they followed Beaufort and Warwick toward the kitchen. "I've a scheme to determine who gets the wedding date."

"Which is?" Grisham glanced at him.

"The person to evict Mr. Philbert's ghost chooses the date."

"No!" Levi, trailing behind them, shoved between both men.

Roxburghe turned, surprise lighting his blue eyes. "You wish for Mr. Philbert to live with you forever?"

"We haven't determined the cause is Mr. Philbert." Levi looked to Grisham for support.

The corner of Grisham's mouth crooked. "We haven't disproved that theory, either."

Damn. Grisham favored Roxburghe's ludicrous idea, and though there was still a chance Mr. Northcutt or Mrs. Grove caused the noise, Levi feared that somehow, Roxburghe's teasing had corporealized Mr. Philbert's malcontent spirit.

"Mr. Northcutt," Levi said as he entered the kitchen, finding his valet and the cook less than three inches apart, their gazes locked.

"One moment, Your Grace," Mr. Northcutt replied without breaking his stare.

He turned over a card, setting down an eight of hearts on the small table.

"Ten," Mrs. Grove said, glee splitting her face, and flipped over her card.

Mr. Northcutt swore, slammed his palms on the table, and rose. Straightening his jacket, he bowed to Levi.

"How can I assist you this evening, Your Grace?"

Levi gestured, indicating Mr. Northcutt should resume his seat. "Did either yourself or Mrs. Grove venture to the second floor in the past twenty minutes?"

"No, Your Grace." A wrinkle formed on Mr. Northcutt's forehead, as though he found Levi's question worrisome. "We've been playing cards for over an hour."

Collecting the cards from the table, Mrs. Grove nodded her concurrence.

Beaufort leaned around Levi. "Have either of you heard anything… peculiar?"

Mr. Northcutt's eyes narrowed. He wouldn't speak his mind, not in the presence of men of higher rank, but Levi knew his valet's frustration over the situation. They'd lost half the staff in the past month due to the unexplained disturbances.

"If you're referring to the unfortunate rumor that Mr. Philbert's ghost has assumed a residence here, I have not," Mr. Northcutt replied, his clipped tone indicating he'd answer no more questions on the topic.

Unruffled by his response, Beaufort turned his attention to the cook. "Mrs. Grove?"

"Nor I have," she said, shuffling the cards. "However, if one needed evidence of a supernatural event, I would suggest searching the location of the man's death."

"The gazebo!" Beaufort and Roxburghe cried simultaneously.

They tripped over each other, fighting to exit through the doorway first, and were blocked by Warwick, who appeared less than pleased to be shoved aside in their rambunctious attempt to reach the conservatory.

"If I had two good legs, I'd ensure at least one of you spent an eternity with Mr. Philbert," he yelled after them.

Riotous laughter rippled down the hallway.

Sighing, Levi strode after them, glancing over at Mansfield. "We can't leave them to their foolishness."

"We could…" He tilted his head as though considering the option. "But I'd like to investigate the gazebo as well."

"Come on, Warwick," Grisham said, passing Mansfield. "The conservatory's warmth might ease the pain in your leg."

"I'm not suffering from any discomfort." Warwick groaned when he took his first step, then shot a sheepish grin at Grisham. "Perhaps your suggestion holds some merit."

Not one to gloat, Grisham merely inclined his head and gestured toward the door leading to the conservatory. They walked in a slow procession, each man tapering his pace to match that of Warwick, whose lethargic gait emphasized his lack of exercise.

Grasping the door handle, Levi paused, preventing Warwick from entering the conservatory. "Are you still working with Miss Ollerton?"

"I terminated her." Warwick reached for the handle, but Levi blocked him.

"I thought she was an excellent nurse."

"She whistled. Incessantly."

The corner of his mouth pulling into a grimace, Levi opened the door, and they entered the conservatory. Roxburghe and Beaufort were three-quarters of the way down the path, their heads bent toward each other as though they were discussing a private matter.

"What is that?" Mansfield said, pointing over Levi's shoulder at the gazebo.

Levi's eyes flicked to the right. He gasped.

A shadow hovered at the top of the gazebo steps, inches from where Mr. Philbert's body had been discovered last month with a knife protruding from his chest.

Mr. Philbert's ghost.