Chapter Five
Sated and content, Theodosia woke the next morn with a smile.
Her muscles were decadently sore—a testament to the passion-filled night she had spent with Ellis.
They had been apart for far too long. She would have words with her parents about what they had done.
For now, though, she wanted to enjoy their time together.
Ellis’s heavy arm was draped across her stomach, and she ran her fingertips lightly over his skin.
He stirred, drawing her closer.
She snuggled into him. Instinctively, she grasped for her locket. She always fidgeted with it whenever she thought about Ellis. This time, her neck was bare.
Sitting up quickly, she scanned the pillow and checked under the blanket for her missing necklace.
Concerned, Ellis rose, his eyes heavy with sleep. “What is amiss?” he asked, his voice husky.
“My locket is missing. Did you take it?”
His dark brows drew down. “Why would I do such a thing? Nay.” He ran his hands over the blankets. “Mayhap it fell off.”
Theodosia shook her head. “That is not possible. I never remove it.”
“Well, it canna have disappeared.”
He stood, and for a moment, Theodosia forgot about her lost locket as she took in Ellis’s naked form in front of her. She bit her lip. She wanted to pinch his well-muscled buttocks.
Ellis caught her gaze and smiled, but then, in what was surely meant to be mean, pulled his trousers on.
Then he caught her hand and pulled her to stand beside him.
He kissed her forehead. “I will search the tent high and low for your locket. But ye need to dress. As much as I would enjoy spending the day exploring your body, your parents must be fashed that ye didna return home last eve.”
She sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, Ellis was more than likely right. They finished dressing quickly, and Theodosia did her best to make her hair presentable for the walk home.
“How long will you be mapping the moors?” she asked, finger-combing her hair into place.
“I’ve another sennight at least, mayhap a fortnight.” He shrugged. “It is dependent on how easy or difficult the maps will be the further I venture into the moors. As of yet, it has been going smoothly.”
“Do you still plan to stay in your tent?”
His fingers worked the ties on the tent flaps and he looked at her over his shoulder, a smile making his eyes twinkle. “Would ye prefer something more proper?”
The seclusion of the moors was nice, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t alone. “Mayhap. But it does not matter. Wherever you are, I am happy to be there.”
He opened the flaps and stepped outside, pausing with a frown when he turned to help her out.
“What is it?” she asked, joining him and following his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat.
Beside the tent’s opening, lying on the ground was the lock of Ellis’s hair from her locket—she recognized it by the thin, blue thread she had tied around it. But it wasn’t just the hair, which was placed on a blood-stained lace handkerchief, a wilted red dahlia also lay upon it.
Ellis grasped her arm as his eyes darted to the moors surrounding them.
Someone had come into their tent last eve whilst they slept and somehow managed to divest her of her locket without waking either of them.
It had to be the ghost. Surely she would have heard or felt if someone had entered their tent.
And the ties were still tied from the inside. It was impossible for anyone to do.
“Ellis?”
“Aye?” His brows drew down in concern.
She went on to tell him all she had learned about Thalia Bragg, her lover, and the ghost. He listened, wide-eyed.
When she finished, Ellis looked to be deep in thought. “So, according to what ye have uncovered, ’tis a battle of true love.”
“Mayhap.”
“Then we are safe since my love for ye is true.”
She smiled, but her stomach twisted with unease. “Do ye believe it is the phantom ghost that left the items?” she asked shakily.
“I dinna ken, but we should take heed.”
She nodded. “I should go,” her voice quiet as she spoke.
“Let me escort ye to the street.”
She nodded and they walked hurriedly away from the tent and the moors.
They paused when the street came into view.
“Please do not stay any more nights on the moors, Ellis,” she begged. “It is not safe.”
He pushed his hands through his thick, dark hair, making the ends stand up straight. “I’ve work to do, Theodosia. Work that will determine my future.”
“I understand, but you do not have to sleep there. Please, Ellis.”
Their gazes clashed. She could tell that he was disturbed at what was left at his tent and the meaning behind it.
Finally, he nodded. “I will rent a room at the inn.”
She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. “I shall see you there. This eve.”
He caught her hand as she stepped away. “Are ye certain ye are safe to walk alone? Mayhap I should go with ye.”
His concern was comforting. “I appreciate that. I will be well away from the moors.”
Theodosia could feel Ellis’s gaze on her back until she disappeared down the street.
What did the flower and handkerchief mean?
Were they related to the ribbon left at her house?
Was someone watching her? She looked around the city that was just starting to rouse.
At the mist that rolled in from the moors at the top of the hill.
Mayhap she was going daft.
“Theodosia! Over here!” Clementine waved madly from across the street, afore crossing and rushing over to her. They hugged and then her best friend frowned. “You are out early this morn,” she said suspiciously.
“Hush,” Theodosia scolded, and pulled her friend to walk beside her.
“What has happened? You look,” Clementine paused, studying Theodosia, her eyes lighting up. “You look happy. Did you meet someone? Who is it? You must tell me.”
Theodosia paused and turned to her friend. “You cannot tell anyone. Not yet.”
Clementine made a cross over her heart.
“It was Ellis.”
Her friend’s eyes grew big as saucers. “You. But I thought…How?”
Theodosia understood her friend’s confusion. She felt a bit of it herself. “It seems my parents devised a scheme to keep us apart. All this time, he had been sending me letters, only for Mama to intercept them and keep them from me.”
“No,” Clementine said in disbelief.
“Yes, and not only that, Papa told Ellis that I had agreed to marry someone else.”
“Why?”
“I do not yet know. I have not confronted them. But I will. In due time.”
They continued to walk and passed a small group of village women, one in tears.
They paused, making sure the woman did not require assistance.
She did, but it wasn’t anything that Theodosia or Clementine could help with.
It appeared the woman’s young son was walking the street outside of the moors and had gone mad, unable to speak coherently.
Theodosia hurried away, reminded of what she and Ellis had found that morn.
“What is it?” Clementine asked.
She shook her head. “It’s naught.”
They passed the churchyard and Theodosia felt drawn to enter. She walked through the wrought iron gate, as if an invisible tether was leading her to the gravestones.
Beside her, Clementine shivered as she ran her hands up and down her arms. “I do not like this.”
Theodosia paused at a pair of freshly dug graves and gasped when she saw two horsehair ribbons—one in each empty grave—each had a name written in red script.
Theodosia.
Ellis.
There was a date on each ribbon under their names—All Hallow’s Eve.
Clementine pulled on her arm. “I don’t know what is happening, but I do not like it. We must go, Theodosia.” She tugged again. “Now!”
Theodosia nodded and with Clementine at her side, scurried out of the churchyard.
“It’s the ghost of Lover’s Crossing, isn’t it?” her friend asked in a hushed tone. Her eyes darted around them, searching for the ghost.
“I don’t know what it is. Someone is trying to make me believe I have lost use of my mind.”
“Whatever you do, do not ride with Ellis after sunset. That is how the ghost claims lovers.”
Arriving at Braggdon Hall, she and Clementine said their goodbyes, and Theodosia quietly slipped into the side door, and up to her room.
Lucy jumped up from the chair she was sitting in.
“Miss Bragg, you are well,” she said in a hushed whisper, giving Theodosia a fright.
She placed a hand over her fast-beating heart.
Lucy continued, “I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you. Your parents are unaware of your absence. I made sure of that,” she added conspiratorially, a twinkle in her eyes.
“Thank you, Lucy.”
The maid nodded and moved toward the door.
“Lucy?”
“Yes, miss?”
“I will need you to do the same this eve.”
Lucy smiled, nodded, and left the room.
She managed to avoid her mother and father all day and quietly slipped away to meet Ellis at the inn. Wearing a dark cloak and oversized hood to conceal her identity, Ellis escorted her inside and up to his room, where he captured her mouth in a searing kiss.
Tumbling to the bed, he showed her how much he had missed her, before she fell into a deep sleep, content in his arms.
The past filled her dreams. Visions of Thalia, her mirror image, and of her death. Through her dreams, Theodosia relived her ancestor’s death.
She woke with a gasp, her throat dry. The bed cold and empty.
The door open.
Ellis was gone.
On the street below, she heard the heavy clip-clop of a single horse.