Page 44 of The Rogue

“How long did you stay?” she asked, following him as he leaned against the rail further along, the chains clattering against the wood as he moved.

He huffed at her, but she just returned a placid smile that made it quite clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Just for the summer,” he said.

“Was Alex there?”

He nodded. “He had leave in August, spent the whole month with us. We sailed and fished and swam. It was the best summer.” She smiled on seeing the merry blue of his eyes again as he remembered. “You’ll love it there, it’s a beautiful place, over four hundred years old,” he said with enthusiasm. “Well it was,” he amended, shrugging. “I don’t know how it faired during the war. But if it still stands ...” He paused and she could see he was picturing the place in his mind. “The gardens and the surrounding countryside are simply stunning, so green and lush, and the house is full of hidden corners and ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” she repeated in alarm, before rolling her eyes at him as he laughed at her.

“Well, of course, all the greatest houses have at least one ghost.”

She pouted at him, convinced now he was simply teasing her.

“Yes, she is the ghost of Marguerite,” he continued. “A pretty young maid who worked for the Comtesse de Longueville sometime in the fifteenth century. The story goes that the Comte seduced her and got her with child. She was in love with him, but he denied the child was anything to do with him and threw her out in a storm. She was heartbroken and managed to sneak back in and hide. The next day when he was away from home, she went to his bedroom, and she cut her own throat.”

“Oh my!” Henri stood with her own hand closed protectively around her throat, feeling quite uncertain whether she would like Longueville at all.

Lawrence gave a heavy sigh. “They say you can hear her singing in the corridors on stormy nights.” He laughed at the horrified look she was giving him. “Well that’s what they say! Though neither Alex nor I have ever heard her,” he added.

“Well that is a great comfort, I’m sure,” she muttered, shivering.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He chuckled, looking thoroughly unrepentant.

“Hmmm.” She sniffed and looked away from him before curiosity got the better of her. “What else is there to see?”

She listened, enraptured, as he described the grand old house, the river and the forests, the ancient church and the endless stretches of white sandy beaches where he had played that last hot summer. He talked as though he would show her all of it and then stopped quite abruptly and turned away from her.

“Of course, Alex will show you everything,” he said, sounding bored now, though she wasn’t fooled for a moment.

“I wish you’d show me, Lawrence,” she said, her voice soft, as she laid her hand on his arm. He looked down at it, still for a moment, before shaking her off.

“I won’t be there,” he said, his voice cold, before shouting at one of Alex’s men. “You there, your captain instructed I be taken back to the hold.”

And with sorrow forming a lump in her throat she watched as he walked away from her without a backwards glance or another word.