The Lady in Yellow: A Victorian Gothic Paranormal Romance

Fifty

Veronica rapped sharply on the door of the master suite. As if he'd been waiting behind the door, Rafe opened it instantly. He was elegantly dressed in a white shirt, a dark patterned waistcoat and black trousers. A black jewel shone on his cravat, inlaid with a golden symbol. Veronica felt inappropriately plain in her grey and white striped day dress.

"Come in, Miss Everly." He opened the door wide and welcoming. The fragrance of fresh lilies escaped from the room.

She baulked at asking Rafe to address her by her first name. She'd never imagined being on first name terms with an employer before, especially a gentleman. And she was no longer sure she could trust Rafe de Grimston.

"May I call you Veronica?" Rafe drew out her name like a caress. This took her aback.

Unsure of what to do, she gave him a curt nod. He smiled.

Touching her shoulder, he guided her to the divan near the fire. If he only knew how many times she'd taken refuge curled up in its soft cushions. On the low table, a bottle and two cut crystal tumblers gleamed golden in the firelight.

"Would you like a brandy?" Rafe poised the decanter over one of the tumblers.

Remembering the disaster that had followed her wine intake at Rafe's homecoming banquet, Veronica waved it away. "No thank you."

"I'm with you now, Veronica. I know the danger." He smiled. "I'll protect you."

Veronica's eyebrow went up before she could stop it. Now she had to give in. "Perhaps... a tiny bit... I'll try."

Rafe grinned, poured two glasses, and handed one to her.

"Cheers!" He touched his glass to hers.

"Cheers," she said.

The brandy was sweet, burning, and soothing. Rafe's presence was soothing. She hadn't known him to be this way before. As her tension drained away, she wondered how, after the terrors of last night, she'd dared to enter his room alone. But in the light of day, all the chaos of the night before, with its lurid madman's moon, faded like a bad dream. She wanted the whole story. Rafe suggested he would give at last some of it to her. She was not going to leave until he told her everything.

Veronica pulled back on the sofa with her glass. Rafe moved in to sit beside her. His body gave off waves of heat and a slight whiff of fine leather. Her heart began to beat gently against her ribs. Sipping her brandy, she began to feel drowsy, warm and languid.

"Veronica... I must apologize for last night. I'm sure you were distressed by our madness around here."

"I'm not used to such goings-on, if you don't mind my saying so."

"There's no way I can mind. Even I had a surprise in store. When I was in France... Have you ever been to the Auvergne?"

Veronica wasn't sure she wanted to hear this just now. She didn't want Rafe confiding in her about Miss Frenchie.

"No. I've never been outside of Britain." She took another sip of brandy.

"It's a land of volcanoes. Some of them are extinct, nothing more than green craters filled with lakes. Sometimes there are islands in the lakes, and some brave souls have built castles on them. Right in the mouths of the volcanoes."

"Proves great courage, I suppose," said Veronica. "If not great faith."

"Yes, faith. You'd expect some faerie queen to live there. Alas, my late wife's chateau is not so dramatically situated. It's in a wooded glen, a haunted place, in the midst of a circular garden surrounded by hemlocks. You did see the page I had marked for you in the book?"