Read Online Devil’s Cove (Tortured Souls) by R.C. Matthews - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: R.C. Matthews
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mainland is worth the bother.” Glancing out the window lining one side of the massive oak doors to the entrance, he added, “And we have Neptune to keep us company while we’re here.”
Her brow furrowed, posing a silent question.
Devlin placed Grace’s hand on his arm. “I’ll tell you on the way to the dining room, or we’ll starve this morning. Hard right around the staircase and straight back. Watch for the side table adjacent to the stairs.”
She held out her right hand and skimmed her fingers against the edge of the table, then strode forward.
“Hatchet is referring to a statue of Neptune gracing the middle of the lake in the courtyard.” Devlin kept his focus on their progress and took a mental note to have Victor remove half the furniture cluttering the hallway. “Have you ever seen it? Before … ”
“Oh, yes, once,” she said, her tone registering the connection. “When I was a little girl, Mother visited the manor and brought me along. It was a rare treat, especially the statue—God of fresh water and sea—in our very own part of the world. I’ll never forget the way the sun reflected off the water all around him, like he was blessed with a halo of golden light.”
Devlin shook his head at her fanciful retelling. She was a hopeless romantic. The quicker he got her out of the damned mansion, the better. “That was your favorite part of the visit, I take it?” he asked drolly.
“Oh, no.” Grace shook her head. “Cook made the most amazing raspberry scones and let me eat as many as I liked. He was so kind.” She stopped in her tracks and tilted her head. “Funny, I didn’t realize until now, but Mrs. Stevens’s scones are every bit as delicious.”
“Perhaps she stole the recipe from her brother,” Devlin offered. “He was the cook of the manor in those days.” He resumed their walking. “Settee on your right and a set of chairs ahead on the left. Just a few more steps after that you’ll find the dining room on our right.”
She turned her face toward his. “Might we go to the kitchen first? I should like to meet the cook and thank her for the scones. It’ll give me an opportunity to learn my way around. One never knows when a trip to the kitchen will be necessary. I’m fond of tea late at night.”
“That’s why I hired a lady’s maid for you,” Devlin said. Goddammit, he wasn’t paying her maid to eat bonbons all day and sleep in a feather bed at night. The chit needed to do actual work. “You shouldn’t walk about the place at night. It’s—”
“Too dark?”
She stole the words from his mouth. He could feel the heat of a blush staining his neck.
“Well,” he said, refusing to acknowledge her question. It was badly done of her, making light of the situation. His objection was not without merit. “This way, then. Another ten paces or so. But you know, it isn’t seemly for a young lady to be traipsing through another’s home late at night. Therefore, I’d ask that you avail yourself of the bellpull. Miss Taplin will see to your every need.”
Grace huffed, the noise so at odds with her normal decorum that Devlin arched a brow in her direction.
“I’m hardly a young lady at three and twenty.”
“So old?” he asked, unleashing his sarcasm.
She slapped his arm, and he grinned. Despite the fact that she often irritated him, the woman was far too easy to tease, and he found her reactions rather entertaining.
They entered the kitchen, where preparations for the afternoon meal were already in full force. Grace pulled her hand away from the door and stiffened, her fingers squeezing almost imperceptibly on his arm. Tingles built up in his gut as he glanced down to gauge her reaction.
“Is it a ghost?” he asked. He’d witnessed many things in his one and thirty years, but he’d never had the pleasure of encountering a ghost. He was open to changing that. Hopeful, even. Their existence would prove there was a heaven. And a hell. And a gatekeeper.
Her brow furrowed, posing a silent question.
Devlin placed Grace’s hand on his arm. “I’ll tell you on the way to the dining room, or we’ll starve this morning. Hard right around the staircase and straight back. Watch for the side table adjacent to the stairs.”
She held out her right hand and skimmed her fingers against the edge of the table, then strode forward.
“Hatchet is referring to a statue of Neptune gracing the middle of the lake in the courtyard.” Devlin kept his focus on their progress and took a mental note to have Victor remove half the furniture cluttering the hallway. “Have you ever seen it? Before … ”
“Oh, yes, once,” she said, her tone registering the connection. “When I was a little girl, Mother visited the manor and brought me along. It was a rare treat, especially the statue—God of fresh water and sea—in our very own part of the world. I’ll never forget the way the sun reflected off the water all around him, like he was blessed with a halo of golden light.”
Devlin shook his head at her fanciful retelling. She was a hopeless romantic. The quicker he got her out of the damned mansion, the better. “That was your favorite part of the visit, I take it?” he asked drolly.
“Oh, no.” Grace shook her head. “Cook made the most amazing raspberry scones and let me eat as many as I liked. He was so kind.” She stopped in her tracks and tilted her head. “Funny, I didn’t realize until now, but Mrs. Stevens’s scones are every bit as delicious.”
“Perhaps she stole the recipe from her brother,” Devlin offered. “He was the cook of the manor in those days.” He resumed their walking. “Settee on your right and a set of chairs ahead on the left. Just a few more steps after that you’ll find the dining room on our right.”
She turned her face toward his. “Might we go to the kitchen first? I should like to meet the cook and thank her for the scones. It’ll give me an opportunity to learn my way around. One never knows when a trip to the kitchen will be necessary. I’m fond of tea late at night.”
“That’s why I hired a lady’s maid for you,” Devlin said. Goddammit, he wasn’t paying her maid to eat bonbons all day and sleep in a feather bed at night. The chit needed to do actual work. “You shouldn’t walk about the place at night. It’s—”
“Too dark?”
She stole the words from his mouth. He could feel the heat of a blush staining his neck.
“Well,” he said, refusing to acknowledge her question. It was badly done of her, making light of the situation. His objection was not without merit. “This way, then. Another ten paces or so. But you know, it isn’t seemly for a young lady to be traipsing through another’s home late at night. Therefore, I’d ask that you avail yourself of the bellpull. Miss Taplin will see to your every need.”
Grace huffed, the noise so at odds with her normal decorum that Devlin arched a brow in her direction.
“I’m hardly a young lady at three and twenty.”
“So old?” he asked, unleashing his sarcasm.
She slapped his arm, and he grinned. Despite the fact that she often irritated him, the woman was far too easy to tease, and he found her reactions rather entertaining.
They entered the kitchen, where preparations for the afternoon meal were already in full force. Grace pulled her hand away from the door and stiffened, her fingers squeezing almost imperceptibly on his arm. Tingles built up in his gut as he glanced down to gauge her reaction.
“Is it a ghost?” he asked. He’d witnessed many things in his one and thirty years, but he’d never had the pleasure of encountering a ghost. He was open to changing that. Hopeful, even. Their existence would prove there was a heaven. And a hell. And a gatekeeper.
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