An Unlikely Match (11 page)

Mr. Castleton oohed and ahhed and, of course, followed her down the corridor. The man would not be distracted.

He threw out a great many impertinent questions as they made their way toward the public rooms. Gwen chose to ignore every single one of them. Whether or not she slept or ate or was impacted by the weather was no concern of his. The answer, of course, was no on every count, but she kept that information to herself.

She passed into the drawing room but didn’t find Nickolas there. Mrs. Castleton sat inside, working at her embroidery. Fortunately for them all, the woman did not see Gwen’s arrival. Unlike her husband, Mrs. Castleton didn’t find anything fascinating about a ghost. In fact, she looked on the verge of fainting every time Gwen came anywhere near her.

Dafydd sat across the room near the windows, talking with Miss Castleton. Whatever they were discussing seemed to have entirely captured them both. They smiled and laughed a bit. Gwen knew well how much Dafydd had longed for a friend in the years since his return from Cambridge. She was pleased he had found one in Nickolas. If he’d formed a friendly connection with Miss Castleton as well, she would not begrudge him that.

She slipped back out of the room without a sound and continued her search for Nickolas. She found him in the library. He and Griffith lounged leisurely in the two leather wingback chairs on either side of the empty fireplace. Both gentlemen rose when she entered—through an inner wall—and bowed quite politely.

“Miss Gwen,” Nickolas greeted her.

“I seem to have contracted a disease that your houseguests brought with them from England.” She wrinkled her nose in disapproval as she uttered the last word.

Nickolas smiled in amusement. “A disease?”

Mr. Castleton entered in the next moment, not bothering to knock.

Gwen raised an eyebrow but said not a word.

Griffith smiled his understanding as he resumed his seat. Gwen liked him. He was quiet without being a spineless coward.

“Ah,” Nickolas said, eying Mr. Castleton but addressing Gwen. “I see. A catching disease, is it?”

“And fatal, I fear.”

He chuckled quietly. “Fatal?”

She nodded. “For the disease.”

“So you can pass through stone and wood.” Mr. Castleton ticked off the materials on his fingers. “Show me the metal now.”

“Distract him,” Gwen said. “Or I shall be forced to dispose of him.”

Nickolas did not seem to entirely believe her threat. When had she lost her fearsome edge? Gwen crossed her arms over her chest and put on her most determined expression.

“I’ll see if I can’t find something to occupy his time,” Nickolas said quietly.

Such easy acquiescence caught her off guard. Far too many of Nickolas’s predecessors had required a great deal of convincing to see things her way. Gwen did not think she was an unreasonable person. She merely wished for some basic consideration. Nickolas apparently meant to give it to her.

“Thank you.” She heard the surprise in her voice.

His chuckle seemed to indicate that he detected it as well. “You are decidedly welcome, Miss Gwen.”

Nickolas turned to his overly curious houseguest. In a conspiratorial whisper, he said, “I understand from local legend that our resident ghost is far more likely to make an appearance at meals if the table is precisely centered in the room.”

Mr. Castleton gave his host his undivided attention. “Precisely centered?”

“Might I suggest you find some means of measuring the table’s location and making the appropriate adjustments?”

The man nodded and turned to leave.

“It must be
exactly
centered,” Nickolas called after him and received a very purposeful nod.

Only after her overgrown puppy left the room did Gwen allow her amusement to show. “
Exactly
centered?”

Nickolas shrugged, not looking the slightest bit guilty. “Achieving perfect symmetry will take hours. He shouldn’t bother you the rest of the afternoon.”

The newest master of Tŷ Mynydd was proving a pleasant surprise. “I shall enjoy the peace and quiet.”

“Do,” Nickolas said. “And see if you cannot concoct a few other ‘legends’ of which we might make Mr. Castleton aware.”

“Distractions, you mean.”

He did not admit to such a motivation but looked quite theatrically guilty.

“Have you any suggestions?” she asked.

“Perhaps you have a favorite flower, one particularly hard to find.”

“Or,” Griffith entered the conversation, “legend might hold that you are more likely to slip into a room if no more than one person is present.”

Nickolas grinned broadly. “Mr. Castleton would likely avoid the rest of us at all costs. What say you to that bit of deception, Miss Gwen? You would have many people’s undying gratitude.”

“Why do you call me ‘Miss Gwen’?”

Her question clearly surprised him. “Is there something you would rather I call you?”

“Just ‘Gwen’ will do.”

“If that is what you prefer, then Gwen it is.”

Quite against her will, she was finding herself inclined to like Nickolas more with each encounter. “Thank you for being so considerate.”

“I think you will find, Gwen,” he said, “I am a rather likeable fellow, quite willing to be considerate.”

His smile upended her more than a little. “And I think you will find that I am not such a horrible addition to your household as you likely first thought.”

“Then perhaps we should agree to be friends and not enemies.”

The possibility was appealing. “I should like that.”

He gave her another of his excellently executed bows. “Until dinnertime.”

“Dinnertime?”

Nickolas gave her a very ironic look. “I believe we will have a perfectly centered table, Gwen. You are required to appear.”

“On the contrary,” she said. “The table will likely be ever so slightly off center. I am afraid such a thing will be far too disconcerting. I shall be forced to flee, much to my lasting regret.”

He chuckled. “I shall explain to Mr. Castleton, though I fear you will quite disappoint him. He will simply have to apply himself to being more precise tomorrow.”

She nodded and smiled and left the room, more pleased with her situation than she had been in some time.

Chapter Ten

Having a ghost lurking about the place was not nearly as bad, nor as odd, as Nickolas would have expected. He’d grown very quickly accustomed to the situation. And, he’d discovered, he rather liked his resident apparition.

“Quite the house party this is turning out to be,” he said, retaking his seat facing Griffith.

Griffith nodded. “Soon ghosts will be all the rage at
ton
gatherings.”

Nickolas smiled at the idea. “And perfectly centered tables as well.”

“You do seem to be taking the week’s discovery in stride, having to admit the house is haunted and all.”

Nickolas relaxed his posture, sliding low in the chair and leaning back lazily. “Gwen has been surprisingly easy to accept. She doesn’t even seem like a ghost, really, except for walking through walls and hovering above the ground and being translucent.”

“Other than that.” Griffith smiled a little, shaking his head.

Outside the windows, a breeze rustled the trees. The sky was a deep, clear blue above the rolling green hills. Tŷ Mynydd boasted a view Nickolas felt he’d never grow tired of. Yes, he had certainly done well for himself.

“You realize Gwen is unlikely to be a quiet member of this household, do you not?” Griffith commented after a long, easy silence between them.

Nickolas wasn’t overly concerned. “I spent six months when I was twelve living with an elderly distant cousin who was so controlling that every piece of clothing I wore had to be approved by her, right down to my underthings. And at meals, I was required to match her bite for bite. If I survived that, I can certainly put up with a dictatorial ghost.”

Griffith’s expression turned ponderous.

“Empty your budget, Griff. What’s on your mind now?”

“I was only thinking that Miss Castleton seems very . . .” Griffin’s brow furrowed more deeply. “Gwen makes Miss Castleton very uncomfortable still.”

Nickolas had noticed that. “She’ll grow used to having a ghost hovering about.”

Griffith didn’t appear confident.

“It has only been a few days, after all. Miss Castleton will rise to the occasion.”

Griffith offered no agreement or argument. He took a short sip from his glass of sherry.

Nickolas knew the slight twist of Griffith’s mouth for what it was. His friend thought he was being thickheaded.

“You disapprove of my chosen lady?”

“Not at all.” That he didn’t hesitate was reassuring. “She has a good heart, is of a pleasant disposition. I don’t doubt you’d be happy together.”

“Then why the warnings over Gwen?”

Griffith never had been one to rush into answers. He took his time as usual. “Miss Castleton doesn’t strike me as one with a never-ending supply of hidden fortitude. Gwen, however, does. That might be an uncomfortable combination for the two of them, let alone
you
.”

Nickolas allowed that possible complication to settle in his mind. “Let us hope, then, that either Miss Castleton will find her footing as mistress of the house, should things work out for the best, or Gwen will be well-mannered enough, when the time comes, to defer to her.”

“And if neither proves the case?”

Nickolas allowed a mischievous smile. “Then my wife and I will simply have to come live with you.”

Amusement lit Griffith’s eyes. “The both of you? In my tiny bachelor’s flat?”

Nickolas shrugged. “It would be cozy.”

A quick knock sounded on the door. Dafydd stepped inside, looking excessively pleased with himself.

“What has you so happy?” Nickolas asked. “Did someone donate new prayer books to the parish?”

Dafydd crossed to the fireplace. “My joy is of a far more secular nature than that.”

Nickolas exchanged looks with Griffith. He knew his friend wouldn’t offer the inquiry hovering in both of their minds, so he posed it himself.

“And that joy would be . . . ?”

“The weather is fine. The sky is clear.”

Griffith’s smile turned more than a touch dubious. Nickolas, too, didn’t believe a word Dafydd said.

“Cut line, Dafydd. The real reason, if you please.”

Dafydd tossed something to Nickolas. He caught it easily, though it was longer than he’d expected, at least a foot long. He’d spent enough years unable to afford a personal servant to recognize the spoon-like piece of carved bone immediately.

“A boot horn?” He held the simple contraption up, unsure why his friend had brought him such a thing.

“For getting your boots back on in the morning. After all, your valet won’t be spending the night in The Tower.”

Dafydd’s gleeful references to the weather a moment earlier suddenly made sense.

“With the rain at last gone, you feel I should fulfill the forfeiture of our wager; is that it?”

Dafydd only smiled.

“Very well. What do you say, Griff? Want to spend a night in the menacing ruins of an old tower?”

Dafydd immediately objected. “The terms of the wager didn’t include taking someone with you to hold your hand.”

“The ghosts in The Tower are that frightening, are they?” Nickolas thought he’d already proven his ability to keep calm in the company of the ethereal.

Dafydd spoke as he poured himself a bit of sherry. “No one knows for certain if there are ghosts in The Tower. I’ve never heard of anyone actually going inside. Gwen doesn’t even do so.”

“And you think I’ll turn lily-livered?”