The Haunting of a Duke by Chasity Bowlin Page B

the day, which could only mean that bad weather was coming in. She stood and began the short walk back to the house, contemplating what the ghost child had told her. Melisande and Elise were killed by the same person, but why, she wondered? What was the connection between the two? Melisande had been dead for better than a decade before Elise even came to Briarwood Hall.
    Emme was deep in thought, pondering these connections, when she heard it. It was a soft rustle in the trees beside the path, but the sound was out of place, as was the absolute stillness that followed it. She knew instantly that someone was watching her. She didn't pause, neither did she hurry; keeping her pace steady, she continued moving toward the house.
    Somehow she knew that alerting the unknown person that she was aware of his or her presence was the last thing she should do. After several seconds there was another rustle, and the distinct crunch of gravel as someone stepped out onto the path. There was a curve in the path ahead, and once she rounded the curve, Emme began to run. It was unladylike, and her hostess would undoubtedly be scandalized, but she didn't care. If the person wasn't following her, they would simply continue on at their sedate pace and never know she had run away like a fool. But if they were following her, by the time they rounded the bend and realized she'd quickened her pace, she would be back in sight of the house.
    Emme was close to the break in the trees that would lead her back out onto the lawn when she heard thrashing behind her. It was closer than she would have liked. Though her sides were aching and her feet were on fire from running in her dainty slippers, she managed a small burst of speed that had her stumbling out onto the lawn.
    The thrashing behind her stopped abruptly, and she looked up to see Lord Ellersleigh and Rhys standing on the terrace eyeing her curiously. She took a deep breath, straightened her skirts and made her way toward the house via the library, on the opposite end of the terrace from where the two men stood. She nodded at them politely as she passed by, though her heart still thundered in her chest and her knees were trembling violently.
    Michael looked at Rhys curiously. “That was interesting."
    Rhys didn't comment. His gaze was fixed on a point in the thick shrubbery near the path where Miss Walters had emerged. He had spent enough time on a battlefield to know the glint of sunlight on the barrel of a gun or on a blade. Someone else had been in the garden, and he or she had been armed.
    "I think,” Rhys said, turning to face Michael, “that there is no longer any question that Miss Walters is in grave danger."
    "From someone other than your aunt?” Michael had wasted no time in informing Rhys of Lady Eleanor's thinly veiled interrogation.
    The woman was not someone to be trifled with. She could ruin Miss Walter's without even putting forth considerable effort, and she was ruthless enough to do it without compunction.
    Rhys eyed him askance. “Aunt Eleanor is a bit put out with her, but she's hardly dangerous."
    Michael shook his head. “Your aunt will not physically assassinate Miss Walters, but she will assassinate her socially, unless you intercede on her behalf."
    Rhys nodded. “I will do what I can, but the other matter I find more pressing. Something frightened her in the garden, and in spite of her assertions that she speaks with the dead, or perhaps because of them, I do not think she is a woman given to being easily frightened. Whoever was following her today was doing so with the intent to harm, otherwise there would have been no need for weapons."
    "I agree,” Michael said. “The question is how do we proceed?"
    "She is not to be alone,” Rhys said.
    Michael concurred. “Miss Walters has not yet discovered anything about Elise, but she has seen Melisande. Perhaps Melisande's killer fears he will finally be found out."
    Rhys’ jaw firmed, and he fought down the stabbing