Read Online A Man Of Many Talents by Deborah Simmons - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deborah Simmons
Ads: Link
problem,” he suggested.
“What?” the young man said, glancing about with some alarm.
“We seem to be missing some keys!” the colonel announced in his booming voice.
Emery sputtered, his face flushing. “Why should I know anything about any keys?”
“Because you’ve been living here for some time,” Christian answered.
“The colonel’s been here longer than I have!” Emery protested. “Besides, I don’t bother myself with the running of the house. I have my studies.”
“Emery is quite the scholar, my lord,” Mercia declared, though Christian remain ed unconvinced. She looked up from her plate with curios ity. “What keys are missing?”
“Oh, nothing to worry about, just looking to open an old door or two in the hall,” the colonel said.
Emery snorted. “Those keys probably were lost years ago. I believe the passages were blocked up. Old stone, rotting foundations. Too dangerous,” he said dismissively.
The boy’s comments sounded plausible, Christian realized. He knew from his own experience, however, that many a building older than Sibel Hall remained solid, and from what he could see the place was dreary but firm. Perhaps Emery’s theories were based on misinformation or perhaps he had his own reasons for putting them forth. After all, blind passages and crumbling cellars made for a convenient home for the ghost or its minions.
Emboldened by the silence that followed his pronouncement, Emery hastened to embellish it. “Indeed, the original portion of the house is in terrible condition, as anyone with any knowledge of architecture can attest,” he said with a su perior air.
Christian opened his mouth to argue the point. After all, he knew quite a bit about buildings himself. But the smi rk on Emery’s face stopped him. No matter how galling, perhaps it would serve him better to keep his expertise to himself, at least for now.
“Indeed, I would be careful wandering about the old part of the house, my lord. I’m sure such places are not your nor mal venue. You might be struck by falling stone,” Emery added.
Christian lifted his brows. Was that a threat?
Miss Parkinson made a low sound of dismay. “I had not realized the building was in such poor condition,” she said. Was she worried about his safety? Christian flashed her a smile, but she quickly became engrossed in her food.
“I have never seen any loose stones,” the colonel observed, only to become flustered by Emery’s glare. “But architecture is not my forte,” he hastened to add.
“Of course, the area itself is not the only danger,” Emery said, warming to his topic. “There is also the ghost to contend with.”
“But I thought he wasn’t harmful,” Miss Parkinson said in her usual practical tone, a tone that Christian was beginning to relish beyond all good reason.
Emery smirked again. “Who knows what the specter is capable of doing when provoked?” His words, ringing out in the dimly lit room, were punctuated by a great lash of rain against the windows. Very effective, Christian mused, though no one at the table seemed to notice. Perhaps they all thrived on the dismals.
Emery was certainly thriving in his role as unchallenged expert. “Indeed, one wonders exactly how you intend to rout the spirit, my lord?” he asked, eyeing Christian directly.
As much as Christian would have liked to wipe the sneer off the obnoxious pup’s face, he didn’t have an answer to that question. He had no idea how to rout or even rouse a real specter. All he could do was watch and listen for some kind of worldly connection, but so far he had caught no one knocking. And he had no intention of sharing that information with the so-called scholar.
Emery practically drooled into the ensuing silence. “I mean, you cannot have put any study into the matter, eh, my lord? It’s not as though you are a man of science or a philosopher, is it?” he asked, looking quite triumphant.
Christian was tempted to lunge over the
“What?” the young man said, glancing about with some alarm.
“We seem to be missing some keys!” the colonel announced in his booming voice.
Emery sputtered, his face flushing. “Why should I know anything about any keys?”
“Because you’ve been living here for some time,” Christian answered.
“The colonel’s been here longer than I have!” Emery protested. “Besides, I don’t bother myself with the running of the house. I have my studies.”
“Emery is quite the scholar, my lord,” Mercia declared, though Christian remain ed unconvinced. She looked up from her plate with curios ity. “What keys are missing?”
“Oh, nothing to worry about, just looking to open an old door or two in the hall,” the colonel said.
Emery snorted. “Those keys probably were lost years ago. I believe the passages were blocked up. Old stone, rotting foundations. Too dangerous,” he said dismissively.
The boy’s comments sounded plausible, Christian realized. He knew from his own experience, however, that many a building older than Sibel Hall remained solid, and from what he could see the place was dreary but firm. Perhaps Emery’s theories were based on misinformation or perhaps he had his own reasons for putting them forth. After all, blind passages and crumbling cellars made for a convenient home for the ghost or its minions.
Emboldened by the silence that followed his pronouncement, Emery hastened to embellish it. “Indeed, the original portion of the house is in terrible condition, as anyone with any knowledge of architecture can attest,” he said with a su perior air.
Christian opened his mouth to argue the point. After all, he knew quite a bit about buildings himself. But the smi rk on Emery’s face stopped him. No matter how galling, perhaps it would serve him better to keep his expertise to himself, at least for now.
“Indeed, I would be careful wandering about the old part of the house, my lord. I’m sure such places are not your nor mal venue. You might be struck by falling stone,” Emery added.
Christian lifted his brows. Was that a threat?
Miss Parkinson made a low sound of dismay. “I had not realized the building was in such poor condition,” she said. Was she worried about his safety? Christian flashed her a smile, but she quickly became engrossed in her food.
“I have never seen any loose stones,” the colonel observed, only to become flustered by Emery’s glare. “But architecture is not my forte,” he hastened to add.
“Of course, the area itself is not the only danger,” Emery said, warming to his topic. “There is also the ghost to contend with.”
“But I thought he wasn’t harmful,” Miss Parkinson said in her usual practical tone, a tone that Christian was beginning to relish beyond all good reason.
Emery smirked again. “Who knows what the specter is capable of doing when provoked?” His words, ringing out in the dimly lit room, were punctuated by a great lash of rain against the windows. Very effective, Christian mused, though no one at the table seemed to notice. Perhaps they all thrived on the dismals.
Emery was certainly thriving in his role as unchallenged expert. “Indeed, one wonders exactly how you intend to rout the spirit, my lord?” he asked, eyeing Christian directly.
As much as Christian would have liked to wipe the sneer off the obnoxious pup’s face, he didn’t have an answer to that question. He had no idea how to rout or even rouse a real specter. All he could do was watch and listen for some kind of worldly connection, but so far he had caught no one knocking. And he had no intention of sharing that information with the so-called scholar.
Emery practically drooled into the ensuing silence. “I mean, you cannot have put any study into the matter, eh, my lord? It’s not as though you are a man of science or a philosopher, is it?” he asked, looking quite triumphant.
Christian was tempted to lunge over the
Similar Books
