Page 16 of Wolfhaven

“Do you hear that?” he asked. Evaine could only nod in affirmation. Her voice had fled. She couldn’t scream if her life depended on it—which it didn’t. They were alone out here in this haunted place. Miles from anyone who could help her if the duke turned on her.

Remembering the way he’d grabbed her wrist yesterday in the orchard, her mouth went dry. He could do anything to her. No one would stop him.

Yet it wasn’t the duke she feared. If she had sensed that he had designs upon her she wouldn’t have come back here in the first place. She’d have insisted upon working alone.

Now? Having heard that strange noise? There was no way she wanted to spend five minutes alone here in this house.

She wasn’t superstitious. Yet this place could make a believer of the most stalwart skeptic.

“I should have Cogswell trim the trees back from the windows,” the duke muttered. “Come on. Let’s try the parlor next.”

Swallowing her anxiety, Evaine followed hard on his heels.

Chapter 9

Gareth

Another storm was blowing in. Gareth would have to send Evaine back to her little cottage soon if he didn’t want his new assistant to get rained on. Yet they needed to make as much progress as possible before he allowed her to leave for the day—he couldn’t stand the thought of remaining here for a second longer than necessary, despite having grudgingly accepted that this was not destined to be the brief visit he had initially planned.

His temple throbbed. Nausea came over him in choking waves. Worse when they were arguing, less when they walked in companionable silence.

“You should let me work while you rest,” said Miss Ballard.

“I’m fine,” he snapped.

“Suit yourself.” She lifted her chin and strode past him into the parlor, leaving him gagging back a surge of queasiness. The effort of holding open the door for her to pass through left him trembling. She was right, and yet there was no way he was leaving her to ramble about his tumbledown estate all alone.

Who knew what horrors she might encounter?

After the fire, even the servants had fled the premises. There had been a cursory search for any other bodies. No one was reported missing other than Marina and the duke. Still the wild rumors circulated.

It was a wonder that the place hadn’t been plundered in the decade he’d left it to rot. Cogswell and his wife were hardly fearsome guardians. The only real security Wolfhaven had going for it was its remote location. At least its foul reputation had some use.

The darkness of the parlor was a balm to his senses, but the odor of rot permeating the air was not. Gareth wrinkled his nose.

“It smells like something is…dead.” Miss Ballard lifted her arm and buried her nose in the crook of her elbow.

“Recently, too.”

A scuffling sound stopped him dead in his tracks. Instinctively, he thrust out one hand out and fisted the back of her jacket. They stood there with bated breath. A movement near the far wall lifted the hairs on the back of his neck.

Twin glowing eyes stared straight at them.

Miss Ballard let out a squeak of surprise. They stood staring at the intruding creature for what seemed an eternity, until Gareth found the gumption to shout, “Get out of here, you blasted animal.”

The creature turned tail and scurried away.

“A fox,” Miss Ballard said in a breathless whoosh of relief. “Only a fox. How could it have gotten in?”

“After ten years of sitting vacant, it’s a wonder we don’t have an entire colony of the damned things running around,” he said.

“I wonder if that’s the same fox that’s been stealing from my snares.”

“Snares?”

“I’ve been trying to hunt.”

“Are you truly in such desperate straits?” He was, by ducal standards, poor. Impoverished, even. But he still had money in his pocket, income flowing in from his remaining investments, and property. Granted, the properties were generally in bad repair, though none as bad as his primary seat. They incurred tax liabilities he couldn’t pay and had a list of liens a mile long, but he could still sell the contents or rent them out and shuffle money around to stay afloat. He had been managing his affairs in this haphazard fashion ever since the dreadful day when he had awoken in a hospital and learned that he had inherited the title and all the baggage that came with it.