A Loving Spirit Read Free

he had been expecting, but not this pretty woman. Her hair was black and shining as a raven's wing, parted sleekly in the middle and drawn back to a simple low knot at the nape of her neck. No fashionable curls or whorls marred the sheen of it, and its only ornament was a carved comb of some dark wood.
    Her skin was smooth and faintly sun-touched, over high cheekbones and a slightly pointed chin. A pair of long, sparkling earrings swung against her cheeks and caught in the rich sable lining of her hood.
    She smiled as she surveyed the house, as if pleased with its aspect, and Phillip found himself quite pleased himself that she should like it. He wondered if she would like him as well...
    Then he realized what he was thinking and frowned. "Fool!" he muttered, his hand crushing his cravat.
    He was meant to be thinking of his work, not watching a pretty lady out of windows and wondering if she would like him. That was for men who had nothing better to do, society fribbles who just sat about at their clubs and danced at balls.
    Even as he thought this, he could not stop himself from looking at the elf-girl again. She was half-turned away, talking to another woman. This other woman was a very interesting vision, indeed. She was quite tall, perhaps as tall as his own six feet, with dark, gleaming skin. She wore an odd pelisse-robe of crimson and black, with a matching turban concealing her hair. She, too, surveyed the house, with narrowed, assessing eyes. Then she said something to the woman in the cloak and nodded.
    Well, this was quite interesting. Phillip's scholarly mind was turning, coming up with countless questions he would like to ask these ladies about their lives in the West Indies. It must have been a fascinating existence, full of old-fashioned superstitions and myths.
    It was simply too bad they were not Greek. What a great help that would have been to his work.
    "My lord?" his long-suffering valet said from behind him.
    Phillip turned to see that he held out his best coat, the dark green superfine his mother had insisted he wear, the one with only one small hole on the sleeve. "Yes, Jones?"
    "Your mother has sent a message saying the guests have arrived," Jones said, holding the coat out farther with a rather hopeful air. "She asks that you join them in the drawing room, my lord, at your earliest convenience."
    "Yes, of course. Mustn't be late," Phillip murmured. He glanced back out the window, but everyone had already gone inside.

 
     
     
    Chapter 3

     
    Cassie munched on a tea cake and examined all the portraits lining the walls of the vast drawing room. They were varied and very fascinating, ranging from a Renaissance gentleman in a velvet cap and cloak to a picture hung over the fireplace of the present Lady Royce as a young bride. She cocked her head to one side to examine the portrait of a Restoration lady with blond curls and a blue satin gown.
    The lady in turn seemed to move her head to examine Cassie.
    "Such an engaging family you have, Lady Royce," Cassie said, straightening her head. Now the lady appeared to be staring out vacantly into space. "I would love to hear about each and every portrait."
    Lady Royce gave a pleased little laugh. "I will be happy to tell you all you wish to know, my dear Miss Richards! Though of course they are not exactly my family, I feel as if they are, since I married into the Leighton family when I was only sixteen." She paused to refill Antoinette's teacup and pass Chat another sandwich, then went on, "That portrait you are looking at is Louisa, Lady Royce. She came to a rather bad end. She fell off the cliffs into the sea."
    Antoinette examined the painting. "I believe she still dwells in the East Tower."
    Lady Royce looked at her with wide, wondering eyes. "So I have heard. I personally have not seen her, or the knight who walks about in his armor. And then there is our most famous ghost, Louisa's husband's great-grandmother Lady Lettice."
    Cassie looked over where Lady