The Lady in Yellow: A Victorian Gothic Paranormal Romance

Thirteen

Veronica unfastened her cloak, patted her hair down, and smoothed her skirts, pulling bits of twigs and yellow leaves off her hems. Then she crossed the room and looked through the door into the vestibule.

Still dressed in beaver hat and traveling cloak, was the man in the portrait himself, Rafe de Grimston. Though a bit rumpled, he was the tallest, handsomest man Veronica had ever seen. A loose lock of dark hair hanging over an intelligent eye, rugged jaw under smooth skin slightly shadowed with a growth of black beard, he moved with an air of confidence and grace as he tipped the man who brought in his bags. As Veronica took in these impressions, his slightly husky baritone voice boomed around the room.

"Where are the twins? How do they like their new governess?"

Mrs. Twig looked straight at Veronica.

"Well, here she is Mr. Rafe. Come, Miss Everly." Mrs. Twig nodded her head sideways toward Rafe.

As Veronica stepped into the room, Rafe's eyes seemed to take her in, his gaze intensifying as if to absorb her image into their striking blue depths. He quickly masked the look with a smile.

Overcome with shyness, Veronica stopped in her tracks. Heat rose up her neck and spread tyrannically over her face like fire.

"This is Miss Veronica Everly. This is Mr. Rafe de Grimston, Miss Everly."

Mrs. Twig brought them together. Veronica extended her hand, but couldn't bring herself to look at her employer. This is what came of snooping in his rooms, she told herself----her guilt was rising like a red flag.

Rafe clasped Veronica's hot hand in his large cool ones. Physical contact sent a shock through her. She glanced up hastily and caught his eyes, then immediately looked at the floor.

He almost whispered in her ear, "I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Everly. If you don't look at me, I will be afraid you're hiding something. I'm not an ogre, you know."

"I'm sure you're not." Veronica looked up at him and felt another flush spread over face. "I'm sorry, sir. I am terribly afflicted with shyness meeting people for the first time."

Rafe smelled of fresh, open things like trees and meadows and foreign air, and something else she couldn't place, but that set her pulses racing. She hadn't expected him to be so disconcerting.

He was laughing at her.

"I think we shall get along fine. A girl who blushes like that can never lie. Am I right, Mrs. Twig?"

"Right you are, sir."

Veronica made an effort not to raise an eyebrow at Mrs. Twig. Never lie, indeed!

"So where is Jack?" Rafe looked up the stairs. "I've brought those dolls they were so desirous of, and a few other treasures."

He opened a satchel and pulled out two identical china dolls, both creamy white with pale blond hair, both dressed in faded courtly finery.

"I found them in the house. In one of the old rooms." Rafe turned to Veronica. "The children are fond of dragging things about where they don't belong and leaving them there." He winked. "Drives the maids quite beyond the pale."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir," Veronica said.

"Splendid!" Rafe said.

"How is the chateau?" Mrs. Twig asked.

Veronica sensed Mrs. Twig was rather fond of the old property, and would regret its sale.

"It still hasn't sold. The folk around there don't think it ever will. The place is cursed or something, they say. There are too many staircases. Confounded stairs had me cursing, I'll tell you."