Page 35

Simmons moved around the room, pulling open the heavy draperies.

Morning sunlight streamed in, filling the room with light and warmth.

It was a large room, comfortably furnished, with a huge bed hung with linens.

Over the bed were crossed swords, their jeweled hilts and finely honed blades glinting in the sun’s rays.

“Come closer,” the old man commanded imperiously.

Felicity strode to the foot of the bed, and she and Lord Falcon had their first look at one another.

“So.” It seemed more a sigh than a word. A sigh that welled up from deep within the old man’s soul. Lord Falcon cleared his throat and tried again. “You have the look of your father. About the eyes mostly. And the hair, though his was more red, as I recall.”

Felicity smiled. She had heard such comments all her life.

“Where is Rob?”

“I buried him almost a month ago.” The pain was so unexpected she nearly swayed. But pride and propriety would not allow it. She merely clasped her hands together until the knuckles were white.

“Dead.” Lord Falcon looked stricken. “This cannot be,” he said more to himself than to her. “I needed him. Was counting on him to…” He looked up. “Why have you come?”

“When Father received your letter, he was already too weak to leave his bed. But it cheered him to hear from his old friend. He spent hours afterward, whenever he was strong enough, talking about you and the adventures the two of you shared in your youth. I thought…I thought I might find a friend in you as well.”

Nodding, Lord Falcon patted the chair that Simmons had positioned beside the bed. “Come and sit a while, my dear. Tell me about your father’s work. Did he ever write the book he’d planned, about his study of herbs and plants in the Dark Continent?”

Felicity sat and folded her hands primly in her lap.

“I’m afraid not. I helped him with voluminous notes on the subject.

He dreamed of the day his writings would be published.

But Father was more a dreamer than a doer, I’m afraid.

He often said he never would have left the comfort of home and hearth had he not been prodded by his old friend.

He claimed that though he was as timid as a churchmouse, you were absolutely fearless. ”

Lord Falcon gave a snort of derision. “Fearless? I thought so at the time. Now I wonder if I wasn’t simply foolish.

It’s a family curse, I’m afraid. Every male in my family has this need to explore the unknown.

And all, with the exception of me, have died young.

My father helped chart the Nile and drowned when his boat overturned.

His father before him traveled to the Orient and never returned.

I grew up accepting this restlessness, this need for adventure, as my fate.

When your father and I fell into a cave deep in the heart of the jungle, I feared I was under the family curse as well.

Ironic, isn’t it? We emerged unscathed and lived to be old men.

” His voice lowered with passion. “But I would willingly give up every year that I have lived if it would remove the curse from my own sons.”

Felicity heard the pain in his voice. “What has happened to your sons, Lord Falcon?”

He looked away, but not before she saw the haunted look in his eyes. “My oldest, Chandler, has been lost in the Amazon and is presumed dead.”

She reached a hand to his. “I’m so sorry.”

He studied the long, tapered fingers, so like another he’d known. “William, my younger son, was thrown from his horse while racing across the moors. He now lies broken and lost to us in body and mind. He is trapped in the bed of his youth, which he may never leave.”

“How terrible.” She glanced at Simmons, who stood stiffly beside the table, waiting to serve their breakfast. “Can nothing be done for him?”

The old man shook his head. “The doctor has done all he can. The rest is up to the fates. But if the Falcon curse is to be believed, the fates will not be kind, and William’s wife will soon be a widow.”

“His wife?”

“You did not meet Honora?” the old man asked.

“It was very late when I arrived last night.” The thought of another young woman was most appealing. Perhaps they could find common ground. Oh, it would be wonderful to have someone she could call friend.

“I fear Honora’s life at Falcon’s Lair is not what she’d hoped. Instead of hosting lavish parties and teas, she must nurse a dying husband and spend long days dispensing medicine with a doctor.”

Lord Falcon signaled for his tray, and Simmons obliged, tucking a napkin into the front of the old man’s nightshirt before pouring tea.

Felicity sipped her tea and studied the man in the bed.

It wasn’t only his voice that reminded her of a lion.

A mane of silver hair, in need of a trim, fell to his shoulders.

His face, though etched with the lines of age, was still handsome.

And his eyes. So like the ones she had seen in the darkened moors and again in her room.

Shadowy, watchful, they seemed to see more than they cared to reveal.

They were watching her now, over the rim of his cup.

“How long can you stay in England, my dear?”

She gave a negligent shrug of her shoulders. “I haven’t really set a time. But I thought a few weeks.”

“Nonsense. That’s not nearly long enough. You’ll need at least a few months to get to know this lovely land and its people.”

“Lord Falcon, I couldn’t possibly stay a few months.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because…” She set the cup down and busied herself sprinkling sugar and cinnamon on a warm biscuit. “Because I do not wish to be a burden. I will accept your kind hospitality, but only for a short while.”

As she lifted the biscuit to her lips, she gave a little sigh. “Oh, this is the best I’ve ever tasted.”

Lord Falcon’s breakfast lay forgotten. His voice warmed. “Rob always said that about Cook’s biscuits.”

“Did he?”

Lord Falcon nodded. “He was more like a brother than a friend. When I look at you, my dear, I see him. Even the inflection in your voice is the same.”

It gave Felicity a strange, comforting feeling to know that she shared something with the father who was now gone.

“Simmons,” the old man suddenly called, “tell Maud Atherton that I desire a special feast for tonight, in honor of our guest.”

“Yes, my lord.” The butler freshened their tea. “I believe Cook has already begun. She ordered a pig slaughtered.”

“Fine. And tell her to bake her special tarts. The ones Rob always liked.”

“Now, my lord?”

“Now. And Simmons—“

The butler paused with his hand on the door.

“Tell her I will be eating in the dining room tonight.”

The elderly servant showed no emotion, but Felicity thought she’d seen a flicker of something in his eyes. “Yes, my lord.” He walked stiffly away.

When the door closed behind him, Lord Falcon leaned closer. “I must tell you that I had a reason for asking Rob to make the arduous journey. But now that he is gone and you are “He shook his head. “I can only hope that you will prove to be your father’s daughter.”

“I’ll certainly try.” She gave him a wide smile and patted his hand. “I’m so pleased that you aren’t angry at my unexpected arrival.”

“Angry?” He grasped her hand, suddenly as eager as a child. “You will stay? You…won’t leave, will you? No matter what?”

“Now why would you ask such a thing?”

“There are few who would have the courage to remain at Falcon’s Lair. For there are things “

When he didn’t elaborate, she prodded, “Things?”

He looked up. “I will not hide the truth from you. I sent for Rob because I needed a friend. One I could trust completely.”

“I don’t under—“

He held a finger to his lips. “I no longer know who is friend and who is foe. Nor will you. You must learn to trust your instincts. But know this. You are never alone. There are many here at Falcon’s Lair who sense…

someone or something. A blast of cold air when no window or door has been opened.

A chill that raises gooseflesh or causes the hair at the back of one’s neck to rise.

Sometimes a sound, like a sob or a moan.

” He glanced up sheepishly. “Forgive me, my dear. You must think me an addled old fool for believing that Falcon’s Lair is haunted. ”

“Not at all.” She patted his hand. “As a matter of fact, I almost had myself believing that I’d encountered a spirit.”

Blackbird eyes met hers. One bushy white brow lifted slightly.

Felicity blushed furiously and cursed herself for revealing such a thing. “I was very tired when I arrived last night. I thought…he was in my room upstairs. And this morning I thought he stood behind me as I looked out over the land.”

Lord Falcon folded her hand between both of his and lay back against the pillows with a sigh. “I should have known he would seek you out.”

“Who?”

Ignoring her question, he sighed, “Oh, this is indeed a memorable day.” His eyes suddenly snapped open. His tone sharpened. “Did you say ‘bedroom upstairs’? Is that where you slept last night?”

She nodded, puzzled by his sudden agitation. “It has a lovely view of the village in the distance.”

“No. Oh, no. That will not do at all.” He tugged on the bellpull. Almost at once Maud Atherton appeared.

“Yes, m’lord?”

Lord Falcon’s voice frosted over. “Why did you put Miss Andrews on the upper floor?”

The housekeeper shot a stinging glance at Felicity, then lowered her gaze. “It was quite late, and I wasn’t prepared for the young lady’s arrival. I thought…that is, I did not wish to anger Lady Honora…”

“I want her in the suite beside mine,” he said sternly.

“Yes, m’lord. I’ll see to it at once.”

“See that you do. And Mrs. Atherton,” he called as she started out. “You will instruct the servants to assist Cook in making tonight’s dinner a feast fit for royalty.”

She kept her back ramrod straight as she turned to face him. “Yes, m’lord. We are roasting a succulent young pig. There will be mutton and beef as well. Will you require anything else?”

“Not at the moment.” He returned his attention to Felicity and missed the angry look that darted into the housekeeper’s eyes.

But it wasn’t lost on his young guest. She found herself wondering if so much resentment was the result of the additional work the servants were forced to do. Or was there something else?

Whatever the reason, she vowed to give the housekeeper a wide berth and to try to be as light a burden as possible while she sorted out all these strange, unsettling events.