Read Online If He's Wild by Hannah Howell - Free Book Online

was sure of it. And, if Alethea had seeings, as the maid called them, then that meant that Lord Iago Vaughn saw ghosts. Hartley wondered just what he had gotten himself tangled up in. It was beyond strange. It was beyond his comprehension. It left him feeling uncertain, uneasy. In truth, Hartley was certain of only one thing—he did not like this.
    “Kate,” Alethea whispered as the tight grip of her vision began to ease.
    “I be here, m’lady,” said Kate, and then she asked, “Can ye leave go of the linen?”
    “No. Take it away. Please.”
    Iago snatched the lacy handkerchief from her hand. Alethea collapsed, but Alfred’s strong grip kept her from sprawling on the floor. A strange look came over Iago’s face, and Alethea tried to tell him to drop it. Kate cursed softly and yanked the handkerchief from his hand, tossing it toward the fireplace.
    “None of you touch that again,” Kate ordered. “’Tis cursed!” She looked at Iago’s butler. “Hot, sweet tea, Ethelred. Alfred, help me,” she ordered the man steadying Alethea.
    “My sketchbook,” Alethea said in a hoarse voice as she crawled toward a table set between the two settees.
    Hartley cautiously moved closer, his companions matching his steps, as an ashen Alethea made frantic sketches in her book. The two servants gently steadied her still-trembling body. A pale Iago slowly hoisted himself up from the floor and collapsed in a chair. The moment Alethea ceased her drawing, Kate and Alfred helped her onto one of the settees. Hartley quickly claimed the spot next to her, Aldus and Gifford taking seats on the settee facing him.
    Iago’s butler arrived with the tea for Alethea, and Kate stood by as she drank it. Right behind Ethelred came two footmen with trays heavily laden with food, wine, and more tea. Kate shooed the other servants away, ordered Alfred to serve the drinks, and fruitlessly tried to convince Alethea to seek her bed. After a few minutes, Iago told both Alfred and Kate to leave. Hartley gulped down the wine he had been served and hastily refilled his glass.
    “You can trust the Pughs to say nothing,” Iago said as he helped himself to a lemon tart.
    “Poos? Your servants are called Poos?” Hartley tried to clear his head of the numbing effects of shock.
    “No.” Iago briefly grinned. “Pughs. P-U-G-H. I think it was once Ap-Hugh, son of Hugh, but over the years it degenerated into simply Pugh. Pughs, Davies, and Jones. The three families have served the Vaughns and the Wherlockes for centuries. Not a whisper of what is done or said here will ever leave these walls.”
    “So, the Welsh connection is strong.”
    “Very strong. Stand on the walls of Chantiloup and you can spit into Wales. Have a few holdings in Wales as well.” He looked at Alethea. “Better?”
    “Yes,” she replied. “It was rather”—she hesitated as she searched for the right word but found none—“unpleasant. I knew, even as I reached for the handkerchief, that it was a mistake. The smell of roses warned me, but I was already in the act of picking it up.”
    “May I look?” Iago began to reach for the sketchbook.
    “Please do.” Alethea glanced at the other three men. “All of you. One of you may be able to understand what I saw. I fear the images came so quickly and so fiercely it will be a while ere I can puzzle it all out. And, the faces…” She shivered a little and quickly moved to pour herself another cup of heavily sweetened tea. “I do not recognize any of them.”
    Hartley moved quickly to join his friends in studying the sketches along with Lord Iago. He was stunned by what he saw. Lady Alethea had filled the page with hastily but superbly drawn images. If her mind had been crowded with so many dark images, it was no wonder that she had been so badly overset.
    “I see Peterson there,” Aldus said in a soft, unsteady voice.
    “And Rogers,” said Gifford in a similar tone.
    “And the Compte de Laceau and his lady,” whispered