Chapter Seven
After a refreshing night’s sleep, Eloise dropped letters to Uncle Mallory and Abigail on the hall tray and headed for the dining room.
Orson met her halfway, a sprig of his gray hair sticking on end at the top of his head. “Your trunk has arrived and is now in the rose room, Miss Blackwood. I’ve sent your coachman and the carriage back to Blackwood Hall as requested.”
“Thank you.”
He opened the dining room door and stepped aside for her to enter.
Sweet threads of plum and bergamot filled the air. “Will Lord Cartborough be down for breakfast?”
“I’m here.” Lucian limped up beside her. “I spent the night going through family heirlooms and came across a marvelous quartz chess set. The game pieces are carved kelpies. Family tales state the set was once imbued with magic, a rumor I know you won’t put credence in.”
“I might surprise you, my lord. I do believe you have certain magical qualities. Especially your kissing skills.”
At the table, Lucian pulled out her chair and then lowered his head, his warm breath fanning her ear. “Tempt me again and we might not make it through breakfast.” He placed a light kiss on her cheek.
Heat flooded her cheeks. “I do not believe Orson would survive walking in on us a second time.”
“No. He probably wouldn’t.” Lucian skirted the table and took the seat across from her. A vibrant spark kindled in his brown eyes.
It pleased her to see the old Lucian surfacing again. “Well, while you spent the night playing with chess pieces, I did serious work. I gave Winston’s diaries another read. He was, as you said, an interesting man.”
“I said strange.”
“Humor me.”
Lucian conceded with a slight nod before lifting a forkful of eggs to his mouth.
“He and my uncle did indeed have frequent correspondences, and they discussed the ghostly lovers, Mother’s work in the archives, and most interestingly, Father’s lineage.
I now definitely believe my parents were looking for that secret box in the stained glass panel.
But rather than a treasure of jewels, it contained a church registry verifying the birth of one Duncan Blackwood.
A man who was my too-many-times-to-count-great-grandfather.
Duncan was the eldest son of Donall Blackwood.
Sir Hamish is a direct descendant of Donall’s second son.
At least according to Winston’s diaries.
He says when the Order came to England, there was a mix up in records, giving Hamish’s line a way into the Knights’ higher ranks. ”
The clank of metal hitting china echoed across the dining room courtesy of Lucian dropping his fork. “So Hamish has no claim to the Knights whatsoever if he comes from a second son, since only firstborns can become Overseers.”
“If what Winston wrote is true.”
With a knowing smile that added just a touch of devilish charm to Lucian’s striking features, he leaned back in his chair. “Graves might be able to verify that information.”
Orson entered the room, followed by a young footman who set a teacup next to Lucian’s plate then poured the steeping brew. He clumsily spilled it, soaking the tablecloth, which earned him a shooing away by Orson.
Lucian appeared undisturbed by it all as he turned toward the butler. “Send word to Lord Graves that I wish to see him as soon as possible.”
“Of course, my lord.”
“I see Alms remains as rattled as ever around me. I had hoped the day off for the fair would have eased him some.”
“Alms did not attend the fair, sir.”
Surprise crossed Lucian’s face. “Why not?”
“He fell ill shortly after the carriage pulled down the drive, forcing him to forgo the trip. He returned to the house on foot.”
“I didn’t see him.”
“Nor did I,” Eloise added.
Orson appeared to be mulling over the matter, though he didn’t remain silent for long. “I suggested he go directly to bed. Perhaps he was more ill that I thought and slept the whole time Cook and I were gone.”
“That may have been what happened.” Lucian lifted the teacup to his lips. “I’ll have a word with him sometime over the next few days.”
A silent nod was all the answer Orson offered before leaving the dining room.
Lucian drank his tea.
She fiddled with the fork resting at the side of her plate. “I’m glad Lord Graves will be coming for a visit as I have a letter for him from Uncle that I was to take to him before going to Abigail’s. I’m also looking forward to seeing what he comes up with concerning the knights.”
“As am I. He is very well-versed in matters pertaining to the Order’s history, so he should be able to point us to that birth registry. It will be good to see Hamish squirm when we tell him the news. The man deserves his comeuppance.”
“I agree. Until then, I shall be upstairs, studying the hall window. Its elements intrigue me.” Especially the ghostly hand. All Hallows might make her a believer in ghosts after all.
*
Lucian stood in the library, his mind a tad fuzzy.
He rubbed his temples. The pain assaulting his head was tenfold what it was before breakfast.
A low hum vibrated off the library walls.
“You must save her…”
The disembodied voice carried a cold air with it this time.
Lucian pinched the bridge of his nose and bowed his head, his heartrate escalating.
Visions of Salamanca took over his thoughts, especially the moment when that wild rider pierced his leg.
A curved sword.
He sucked in a deep breath, his mind spinning with realization.
He’d been struck down by one of his own. The sword had been distinctly British.
He gripped the desk’s edge.
Trying to stay on his feet, Lucian stumbled, his cane falling to the floor.
A strong arm lifted him. “Good, God, man, what the bloody hell is going on?” Graves’s voice came through strong as the wind that blew off the North Sea.
Memories of blood and screams scrambled through his head. “I’m fine. I just need to sit.”
Graves helped him into his chair. “It’s another one of those damn episodes, isn’t it.”
“They come and go, some days worse than others.”
“Maybe you need to speak Dr. Smith again.”
He wasn’t having any more of that man’s damn tinctures. “No. I’ll be fine.”
A band of rain pelted the library windows.
“Tell me, Graves, who was with us the day when I was struck down?”
“It was pure chaos, cannons firing, horses charging. I can’t really say, as I’d lost sight of Hamish long before you went down. And we both know neither of us were able to keep watch over Sully.”
Losing that young spy was unforgivable. “I should have protected him better.”
“You cannot blame yourself, Lucian. War is never orderly.” Graves leaned against the desk, concern weighing heavily on his face. “Your invite surprised me.”
“I need your help on something. Or rather, Eloise needs your help.”
A wave of shock crossed Graves’s blue eyes.
“Yes, she’s here.”
Graves’s slapped Lucian’s shoulder. “Devil take me, I never thought I’d live to see the day you’d heed my word.”
“And never will you. I did not take your advice. Eloise needed a place to stay due to being stranded by the storm on her way to Abigail’s wedding.”
“And she’s still here?”
“I’m going to ignore that for the sake of our friendship and because Eloise needs your help. She’s looking for a church registry concerning the birth of a Duncan Blackwood, dating back to the sixteenth century.”
Graves pushed off the desk. “I’ll check the Knights’ records and see what I find.”
“I appreciate it. Any news on the search for Edmund’s killer?”
“No. It’s almost as if he were slayed by a ghost.”
The library doors slammed open with a crash.
Hamish charged across the threshold, hands fisted and lips snarled. “What the bloody hell do you mean by spreading rumors I mistreat my household? I’ve had four leave today, which is one more than I normally lose in a month.”
The turnover at Fee Hall was known to all of Cartborough. “Do not blame me for your beastly manners, Hamish.”
Slamming his hands on the desk and leaning so far forward, his breath fanned Lucian’s face.
Graves made a move to push Hamish back.
“Leave him,” Lucian said.
Hamish smirked. “Edmund tried to get rid of me. Now you. It won’t work, Davis. I’m a knight and I intend to stay a member of the Order until the day I die. And I will head them up. I know about your madness. The Knights will be mine.”
“Why is it so important to you?”
Hamish backed off and adjusted the cuffs of his greatcoat. “It’s a matter of honor. Of blood and heritage. Respect.”
“Then I suggest you try earning that respect. If you did, maybe others wouldn’t oppose you…as much.”
“What do others know? Most of you are feeble little people who waste more time believing in ancient legends than reality.”
Graves rounded the desk. “Careful, Hamish. Mocking the local ghosts just might get you haunted.”
“Those tales only hold power over weak souls. Plant a little seed in one’s head and they drop like a fly on the first breath of winter.”
Lucian had had enough. He rose. Without his cane. And stared Hamish square in the eyes. “You may think your high-handed attitude can rule your household, but it will never rule the Knights. Nor me. Now leave.”
Fury raged in Hamish’s brown eyes. “I will bring you down, Davis. And when I do, you’ll be on your knees begging for mercy.”
He lunged for Hamish’s neck.
Graves wedged between them. “He’s not worth it, Lucian.”
“I disagree. The world would be a far better place without him.”
“Just try.” Hamish gripped Lucian’s shoulder, the storm in his eyes flaring anew.
“The duke here will then be witness to your crime and you’ll hang or be jailed until you die of your own madness.
And then you’ll truly hurt that pretty little whore of yours, just like that mad knight in the tale of the roaming lovers destroyed his woman all those centuries ago. ”
“Get. Out. Of. My. House.” He pushed Hamish.
Graves steadied the man.
With a curse, Hamish tugged away from the duke, his lips curled in a snarl. “You will destroy everything you hold dear, Lucian.” He stormed from the room.
Lucian stared at the library’s open door, realization settling in.
“Eventually, one of us will kill the other.” Evil doers such as Hamish never went down without a death fight.
“I’d like to take you up on that offer of guards at All Hallows.
Not for me, but for Eloise. Until I know I can safely get her back to Blackwood Hall, I want her protected. ”
Graves agreed.