Sandra Heath Read Online Free PDF Page A

Somehow dear George found out you were meeting Marcus, and his sole motive was to prevent you—and thus your fortune—from going to another.”
    “Defend Marcus if you will, but I was humiliated at his hands, and I would have suffered a public shaming if his shabby wager had not been revealed. I tell you, Charlotte, this year I came to Mulborough in trepidation, because he might be here too. If you only knew how relieved I’ve been that he and his wretched schooner are in Scotland.”
    “The Avalon is a sloop, the swiftest quarterdecked ship-sloop in England, to be absolutely accurate,” Charlotte said quietly, thinking of the sleek, magnificently ornamented vessel that made the Marquess of Rothwell the envy of Cowes.
    “I wish it were a rotten pail with a hole in the bottom!” Henrietta snapped.
    The conversation trailed into a long awkward silence, then Charlotte gave a sheepish smile. “We’re on the brink of a horrid quarrel, aren’t we?”
    Henrietta met her eyes for a moment, and then smiled too. “Not if we speak of something less contentious.”
    At that moment the lady and gentleman who’d been on the staircase passed by. They were perambulating the entire ballroom, and Rowley, whose yearnings never failed when it came to sugared almonds, whined again. This time the brief sound was lost to the lady amid the noise of the ball, but it carried clearly enough to Henrietta, who turned sharply. Her eyes widened and her unfinished glass of champagne slipped from her fingers as she saw two hazy, transparent figures standing behind her.
    Jane and Kit were thunderstruck to realize they were visible to her. It was the first time in their hundred years that such a thing had happened. Jane was thoroughly shaken. “Oh, Kit, she can see us!” she cried.
    Kit regained his wits. “Come, Jane!” he cried, snatching her hand with the intention of disappearing through the wall behind the sofa onto the cliff terrace outside. Jane just had time to hastily put Rowley down on the floor before she and Kit fled through the wall.
    Yelping in alarm, the spaniel made for a nearby arched doorway. In his panic he dashed along the ballroom wall, about six feet up from the floor. Henrietta watched until he disappeared from view into the fifteenth-century cloisters, which allowed access to the terrace.
    Charlotte, who had heard and seen nothing at all, sat anxiously forward. “Oh, Henrietta, your champagne has splashed your hem! Whatever is wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
    Childhood recollections swept headily over Henrietta as she quickly bent to retrieve the fallen glass, which somehow had not shattered. Visions of past ghosts hovered palely before her, wraiths she alone had witnessed. When she’d spoken of them, no one had believed her, and so she soon learned the wisdom of holding her tongue. Gradually she had seen them no more. Until now. She gave a smile that was meant to reassure Charlotte. “I—I’m quite all right, it was just an accident.”
    “You don’t seem all right to me.” Charlotte called a footman. “Bring a towel quickly, Miss Courtenay’s drink has been spilled,” she instructed, and as he hurried away, she gave Henrietta a concerned look. “What happened?”
    “If I tell you, you will probably think me quite mad.”
    “I doubt it.”
    Henrietta met her eyes. “Very well, Charlotte. I really did see a ghost. Three of them to be precise—a lady about my age, a gentleman some ten years older, and a King Charles spaniel. They were indistinct; indeed I could see right through them to the ferns behind, which is how I know they were ghosts.”
    Charlotte gave an uneasy laugh. “Henrietta, if this is a jest...”
    “I’m telling the truth, Charlotte. The spaniel ran that way along the wall about Russell’s height from the floor.” Henrietta pointed.
    “Oh, Henrietta!” Charlotte laughed incredulously.
    “It’s the truth. The dog went that way and the lady and gentleman passed right