Prologue
She hadn’t meant for it to go so far. Neither had he, if the guilty look on his face was anything to judge by.
But they were sixteen and in love. Her father was the vicar, so she knew from him that these things happened.
Not necessarily to his oldest daughter, but then again, it was too late to regret it now.
Especially since she didn’t regret a thing.
“Giselle,” he said. She loved his voice when it was raspy with emotion. “That was…”
“Wonderful?”
“God, yes. But…did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “Not even a little.”
“So… you liked it?”
“I loved it. Best Christmas present ever.” She pressed her mouth to his. “And I love you.”
He was grinning when they finally separated. “We’re going to get married,” he said firmly. Then he flushed. “I mean, will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” She was only sixteen, but she was sure her parents would approve.
Many girls got married at sixteen. And Jonathan was a catch by any measure.
Smart, handsome, honest, and true. Fairy tales had been written about Prince Charming, and though he wasn’t a prince, he would be a viscount someday.
Yes, her parents would approve of him. But they wouldn’t approve the match if she neglected to mention one small thing. It was tiny, really, but it was a secret. And her husband needed to know it before they wed.
After all, she had to be honest and true, too.
“Jonathan,” she began. “Before we wed, I have… There’s something you need to know—”
He stopped her words with a kiss. She returned it with enthusiasm, but she couldn’t let him distract her.
“Jonathan—”
“Your blood is as blue as mine.”
Not quite. He would be a viscount when his father passed. Her great grandmother had been the eldest daughter of an earl. But the intervening generations had been younger sons, so she was simply Miss Giselle Wellard, daughter of the vicar.
“It’s not about that,” she said. “It’s about me. Something you must know.”
“You’re perfect,” he said with the absolute confidence of someone whose worldview had never been challenged.
She kissed him back and felt his interest rise again. Hers too, but she held him off. “Jonathan, you have to hear me.”
“All right,” he said as he sat back. Indeed, with matching sighs, they both pulled on their clothing. It took a few moments and then even longer as they interrupted the motions with more kisses. But in the end, they were appropriately attired.
And they were running out of time. She had to get back to the vicarage to help with her younger siblings. Her twin Gwenivere was there, but she’d never had much patience when the younger ones started squabbling.
“You know,” Jonathan said as he took hold of her left hand. “My ring will look beautiful here.”
It would. “Jonathan—”
“Damn, is that the bells ringing? It’s tea time. My mother will have a fit if I come in with hay in my hair.”
“Your hair is perfect.” She took a deep breath. Might as well get it all out at once. “Jonathan, I see ghosts.”
He waggled his brows at her. “Ooh! Where?” He made a show of peering into the shadows of the hayloft. There was nothing there, of course, not even living people. It was Christmas day, after all, and everyone was at home celebrating with their families.
“No, really.” She took his hand and explained. “Gwenivere and I both do. And Mama. We don’t know about the younger ones yet.”
He frowned. “Is this another one of your fairy tales?”
“No.” She bit her lip. “It comes from my mother’s side. We don’t talk about it unless someone’s being haunted. And then we help. Well, Mama does, but she’s teaching me and Gwenivere.”
He sat back, his expression confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Remember all those mishaps Mr. Harking kept having? He was being haunted by his sister. I saw her ghost hurting him. Gwenivere could hear it. She doesn’t see as well as I do, but then I can’t hear them very well. I told Mama and she…” She shrugged. “She helped the ghost pass on completely.”
He studied her, his expression tightening. “You’re saying…you see ghosts. Gwen—”
“Hears them, mostly.”
“And your mother—the vicar’s wife—helps them pass on.”
She nodded.
He exhaled slowly. “Giselle, I love your imagination. I love it when you tell fairy tales to the children. But you know that a countess—my countess—can’t tell tales like that.
” He gathered her hands in his. “Tell me any silliness you want. We live in the Cotswolds where every tree has a fairy or ghost, but that’s not true in London.
And I don’t want to imagine what would happen if you said something like that to my father.
” He shuddered. “He’d have you locked up in Bedlam. ”
She swallowed. He’d just voiced her biggest fear.
Not everyone accepted ghosts like they did in their tiny county.
It was one of the reasons her mother liked it here.
Especially since her grandmother—Giselle’s great, grandmother—had been burned at the stake for witchcraft.
That was why the family had fled to England.
“Your father likes me. You said so!”
Jonathan’s grip tightened. “He does! Everyone likes you. But…” He grimaced. “Father has some very specific ideas about how a countess should act.”
“Like your mother?” She was a weak, whining woman with a whole lot of “poor me” mixed in.
For a woman who was a wealthy countess, she was the opposite of what Giselle admired.
It was the opposite of what Jonathan admired, too!
“I thought you liked me because I’m different. Because I’m nothing like your mother.”
“I do! The last thing I want is to marry a society woman like my mother. But there are still expectations. You can’t go around telling people you see ghosts. Or that the miller was haunted. They won’t know you’re pretending.”
“I’m not pretending,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Of course you are. There are no such things as ghosts. You know that.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And yet there is so much more in the world than is dreamt of—”
“In my philosophy,” he finished for her. “Shakespeare aside, ghosts don’t exist.”
She folded her hands in her lap while pain churned in her gut. But if she could face down a howling ghost—and she had—she could face the man she loved with the truth.
“You are being close-minded,” she said. “Just like your father.”
That last part was a hard blow, but it was necessary. He’d complained to her that his father just wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t accept any ideas other than his own, and that made him rigid and short-sighted. Those were Jonathan’s words, not hers. And she didn’t need to say them for him to hear it.
She looked at him, her brows arched, daring him to challenge her. And when he said nothing, she said her final piece.
“My father is a man of God. He is a vicar, and he believes us. The church does exorcisms too, so the church believes us.”
“Are you saying you see demons?”
She shook her head. “Never. At least, I never have and neither has Mama. She says that ghosts are people who got lost or need something before they go to heaven. They’re caught halfway between here and there, so we must help them across.”
“You help them cross.” His words weren’t a question, but she answered them anyway.
“Yes, I do.” She swallowed. “And as my husband you need to accept that.” Then she flashed him a small smile. “My father helps my mother. They usually go together.”
“I will be a viscount.”
“And I will be your wife. One who helps people and troubled spirits.”
He gaped at her. “Mama makes food baskets for the poor.”
Actually, his mother directed the servants to make the baskets.
“I can do that, too.”
He shook his head, a complete denial of everything. “You can’t say these things out loud, Giselle. People will think you are mad.”
“So long as I can say them to you, and you believe me.”
He didn’t believe her. She could see it in his face, though he was trying to hide it. Honestly, it didn’t bother her—much. According to her parents, her father had taken some time as well. But now he worked with her mom, sometimes travelling hours away to help someone.
“I won’t mention it again,” she said. “Not until I can prove it to you.”
He nodded slowly, accepting the compromise. Then he sighed.
“I really have to go, Giselle. Tea started ten minutes ago.”
“I know.” It was the Christmas holidays and there was always something to do. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is boxing day. I have to stay at home to help Mama. She hates it when the servants have the day off.”
She knew that, but they had so little time before they both went back to their schools.
“The day after, then,” she pressed.
He smiled and kissed her slowly. Then he straightened up. “The day after. I promise.”
That was the first promise he ever broke. She never saw him again. She heard from one of the maids that he had been sent back to school early. She heard other things too. Some said he was sick. Others said he got drunk, said terrible things to his father, and was now disowned.
Giselle was frantic with worry, but then she started having troubles of her own. Whispers followed her and Gwenivere. People started calling them “the troubled twins.” Stories of madness swirled around them.
And then her father lost his parish. The news came out of the blue and was devastating to their entire family.
They had to vacate the vicarage immediately. Then her father could no longer afford to send her or Gwennie to school. Same with her brothers and younger sisters. They were all summarily packed up and sent to the poorish parish in London.
Everything good in her life was abruptly gone. Her home, their money, and Jonathan. All gone. Even worse, she guessed that it was all her fault.