And what would he want to do about the Moon House once the Nugents were dealt with? His sister had delivered the perfect way to make her sell it to him. Once the word was round in the village about her reputation, she would have no option but to leave.

At last they were all seated. Hester found she was ravenous, tried to remember what she had eaten for dinner and failed. It seemed losing one’s temper had an invigorating effect on one’s appetite. She took a sip of coffee and decided that attack was the best defence.

‘You are assuming there will be a party, my lord.’

‘You no longer wish to hold it? It will be the safest way to deal with the Nugents, you know.’

‘I may wish to hold it, but if my neighbours stay away in droves then it will be pointless.’

He picked up her meaning without her having to spell it out. ‘Georgiana has said nothing to anyone about your previous life.’

Ignoring Maria’s muttered ‘So I should hope’, Hester swallowed hard. The intense relief made her feel quite dizzy, but it would not do to show her emotions. She raised an eyebrow.

‘I assume she will not be attending?’ She half-hoped to goad him, but she was not succeeding.

‘My sister will not be among your guests, that is for sure, and in fact, although she has met Mrs Redland and Mrs Bunting, she is unlikely to go about much in the next few days. She will probably miss church tomorrow, a fact that will lend conviction to my explanation on Monday that she is suffering from a severe head cold.’

‘I see.’ Hester tried to hide her intense relief. It was going to be hateful enough to have to entertain a house full of guests while pretending to be on good terms with Guy without having his sister there, regarding her as a fallen woman. But doubtless she had refused to cross the threshold and Guy simply did not wish to say so.

‘What is your plan, my lord?’ Maria enquired frostily.

‘Some of it I can tell you all now, some I will only tell Susan and Jethro because on your reaction, Hester-and yours, Miss Prudhome-much of the success of this scheme lies. I want you to be as surprised and mystified as any of the guests.

‘Now, I will bring two other gentlemen with me. They will be strangers to you, and, I hope, to all the guests. Please accept them as though they were friends of mine you had kindly invited.’

‘Very well.’ Hester nodded her agreement, deciding that to try to second guess any of this would only reduce the element of surprise. She felt more comfortable with Guy now, and tried to stiffen her resolution. It would do no good to let down her guard, forget what had happened.

‘I imagine you will be using both front rooms and one of the bedrooms for cloaks.’

‘Yes. I was going to lay out a buffet in the dining room with the table against the wall and chairs and little tables scattered around. Then more chairs in the drawing room. All the surplus furniture except the piano will have to go out in the sheds. Will you lend me chairs?’ She had been worrying about how she was to manage, having cut herself off from Guy’s practical help, and had decided she would have to approach Mrs Bunting for the loan of chairs and china.

‘Yes. Ackland, speak to Parrott about whatever you need-chairs, tables, china and glass. You can use the Old Manor kitchens as well if that will help. I need to take up quite a bit of room in yours.’

‘But what for? A squad of Bow Street Runners?’

‘That is a thought.’ The smile Guy sent her was one of affectionate amusement and she found herself smiling back until they both realised what was happening. Guy’s face became impassive, Hester coughed and poured herself some more coffee. ‘Now, I imagine the earlier part of the evening will be simply social mingling with people eating, then carols and festive songs around the piano?’

‘Yes, that was my intention.’

‘After a few songs one of my friends will begin to speak of ghost stories and how telling them is another Christmas tradition. When that happens, simply follow my lead. Someone will suggest we repair to the kitchen-fall in with whatever I, or my friends, suggest.’

‘Very well.’ It seemed he was taking over her home and her party with his typical assumption of authority and she had nothing to say to it. Well, if it cooked the Nugents’ goose and served to hasten his own departure from the village, so much the better.

‘If there is nothing else you would like to eat, my lord?’ Anger also appeared to have sharpened Guy’s appetite-the platter was bare. ‘I am sure we have at least some bread remaining if you would like toast and preserves?’

One eyebrow quirked at the sarcasm in her voice. ‘I would not dream of inconveniencing you, Miss Lattimer, and will take my leave. An excellent meal, Miss Prudhome; you are a notable cook, if I may say so.’

Maria simpered, recalled that she was out of all measure cross with him, and turned the gesture into a sniff. Guy crossed to the door and then turned back as a thought struck him. ‘If you see the Nugents in church tomorrow it will do no harm to repeat your unease with the house. If you can think up some manifestation other than what we know they are responsible for, something to suggest to them that they have… awoken something, that would be useful. But nothing definite, just vague impressions.’

Hester began to gain an inkling of what he was about. ‘I will think of something.’

‘I will warn Parrott to place my household at Ackland’s disposal from first thing on Monday, then.’ He smiled fleetingly and was gone.

‘Mr Parrott putting his household at my disposal!’ Jethro considered this glorious prospect. ‘Me! If that don’t bear the bell, I don’t know what would.’

‘You had better begin to make lists, Jethro,’ Hester suggested drily. ‘It would never do to let Parrott find you unprepared or indecisive.’

Saturday passed strangely, a mixture of list-making, marketing, planning and moments when she felt all alone in the midst of her household, as though cut off by thick glass or swirling snow from reality. Then all she could think about was Guy, his words, his anger, his desire. And knew she was never, ever, going to be free of loving him.


Sunday dawned fair and frosty and the household were rosy with cold and rather breathless from walking fast when they arrived at church. For several minutes Hester was worried that the Nugents would not be attending, but they came in, just reaching their pew as the organist struck up and the choirboys trooped in.

In the Old Manor pew Hester could make out the crown of an impressive green velvet bonnet with plumes beside Guy’s dark head. Lady Broome had come to church after all. Hester felt herself sliding lower on her seat as though to bring her own head below the level of the panelling, then caught herself and sat up straight. I have done nothing to be ashamed of, whatever she thinks. But it was not Lady Broome’s opinion that mattered, only Guy’s.

‘Let us pray.’ Obediently Hester knelt, fixed her mind on what Mr Bunting was saying and tried to forget her sore heart.

She timed her exit from the church with care and was relieved to see Guy helping his sister up into the carriage. Lady Broome was heavily veiled and, as Hester watched, lifted the gauze slightly to press a handkerchief to her nose. Setting the scene for her head cold tomorrow night, no doubt.

The Nugents, having arrived in a rush, now seemed more relaxed and both brother and sister turned to Hester and Miss Prudhome as they approached.

‘We are looking forward to your party very much, Miss Lattimer,’ Sarah said with a smile that seemed charming, but somehow did not reach her eyes. Hester read calculation and an almost cruel watchfulness. She felt like a wounded bird being watched by a stoat, which was trying to decide if she were weak enough yet for it to pounce.

‘I am glad,’ she replied with what she hoped was a nervous smile. ‘I have to confess I look forward to having company in the house with noise and chatter and music. You will say it is foolish of me, but lately I have felt oppressed and nervous there.’

The Nugents made indeterminate soothing noises. ‘There has been a repetition of those strange happenings?’ Lewis prompted. ‘Some sort of roses being left, did you say?’

‘Yes, that, of course.’ She produced a shaky laugh. ‘We had got almost used to that. No, there is something else. As though something is in the house, something we cannot see. A presence that seems somehow restless and angry.’

‘Oh.’ Sarah Nugent appeared startled. ‘How very… odd.’

‘It is horrible! Horrible,’ Miss Prudhome burst out shrilly, then clapped her handkerchief to her face and hurried down the path to the lych-gate where Susan and Jethro were waiting.

‘My goodness,’ Hester congratulated Maria once they were safely out of sight down the lane. ‘That was an effective outburst.’

‘It was that or accuse her to her lying face,’ Maria declared vehemently. ‘Odious girl. I could not stand to speak to her a moment longer.’


Hester would not countenance any heavy work on a Sunday, but they spent much of the day helping Susan produce little comfits and sweetmeats and making bows out of the crimson and silver ribbon Hester had found in the haberdashers. ‘If we cut evergreens tomorrow, we can make garlands and swags for the stairs and door cases and mantel-shelves. Set about with candles and these bows, I think it will look very pretty.’

But try as she might, stuffing marchpane into dates, sifting sugar over tartlets and cutting lengths of ribbon were no way to keep the mind occupied. Hester caught herself daydreaming about Guy and only pulled herself together by recalling every damning word he had said about her relationship with John. This made her so angry that she cut six dates completely in half before Miss Prudhome removed the knife from her sticky fingers and advised her to wash her hands and try tying bows for a change.

The clock striking five recalled her to herself to find the others clearing the kitchen table and only three bows in the basket at her feet. The crackle of the fire in the range was conducive to dreaming and the silky slip of the satin over her fingers recalled only too vividly the feel of Guy’s skin under her spread hands.

Hester found from the heat in her cheeks that she was blushing and frantically tried to recall what she had been thinking about. The answer was all too humiliating: Guy’s kisses and how his mouth had felt on hers, how strong his arms were around her, how she wished she had pulled him down on to the spread hay and incited him to take her there in the cold barn that night.

And that would have proved him correct about you, would it not, Hester Lattimer? she told herself savagely, tossing the scissors into the basket and jumping to her feet. ‘Shall we have an early supper and be early to bed? There is much to do tomorrow and we will be up late.’

It was, therefore, only nine o’clock when Susan carried the first of the warming pans upstairs. When she came down again and stood in the doorway it was her silence that arrested their attention. Jethro put down the platter he was polishing, Miss Prudhome her hemming and Hester laid down the book she was trying to concentrate on.

‘What is it, Susan?’ The maid was white as a sheet.

‘Je…Jethro,’ Susan managed, hanging on to the door handle as if to a lifeline. ‘Upstairs… Miss Hester’s bed.’

Hester was on her feet, supporting Susan as Jethro pushed past and ran down the hall. ‘Jethro, wait, I’ll come with you. Maria, help Susan.’

‘No!’ Susan’s hand closed painfully around her wrist. ‘No, you do not want to see it.’

There was the sound of Jethro’s returning footsteps, dragging now, then the lad himself carrying a long glove box. Over it he had draped a linen hand towel.

‘Jethro?’

He moved to put it on the kitchen table, obviously thought better of it and put it on a barrel that was doing duty as a candle stand in one corner. His face was an unhealthy greenish white.

‘Jethro, what is it?’ Hester stretched out a hand and he caught it, echoing Susan’s words.

‘You really do not want to see this, Miss Hester.’

‘If I do not, I swear I am going to scream with suspense.’ Half-expecting some unpleasantness like a dead bird, she shook off Jethro’s hand and flicked off the linen cover.

Lying in the box were the delicate bleached bones of a human hand. Caught in the brittle finger tips was a gauze handkerchief, brown with age, and loose on one finger was a simple pearl ring. Hester dropped the cloth back and managed to drag in a breath. ‘A woman’s hand.’ How was she managing to keep her voice so steady? ‘This is an abomination-are they grave robbing now?’ It was anger, she realised, that was stopping her fainting or screaming or any of the other things Jethro and Susan feared.