Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Mostly.
The remainder of his morning toilette was simple. He brushed his teeth, shaved, combed back his stubborn shock of hair, and dressed.
Before leaving the room, he reached for the dull silver coin on the dressing table—a single shilling, rubbed smooth—and tucked it in the pocket of his waistcoat. Over the years, a shilling had become his talisman. A reminder of where he’d come from, and how far he’d climbed. Gabe never went anywhere without one.
He opened the door and bellowed. “Hammond!”
His architect appeared a minute later, huffing from the climb up the stairs. “Good morning, Mr. Duke.”
“It might be a good morning, if the hot water taps I paid hundreds to install were functioning.” He shook his head. “This house should have been complete months ago.”
“I know that was your hope, sir.”
“It was my expectation,” Gabe corrected. “I spent three years wrangling in Chancery to gain possession of the place. I’m spending thousands to bring it up to modern standards. But I can’t turn a profit until I sell it.”
“As I indicated in my correspondence, Mr. Duke, there have been a few obstacles.”
“You call them obstacles. To me, they sound like excuses.” He gestured at the water basin. “You told me this is the latest innovation. Hot running water.”
“It is the latest innovation. It’s so new, in fact, that this is only the second boiler of its kind in England. There’s only one man on this side of the Channel who knows how to perform repairs.”
“So get that man in here to repair the cursed thing.”
“Yes, well, here we come to the obstacle.” Hammond pushed both hands through his silver hair. “That particular man is dead.”
Gabe swore. “Get the other one on a ship, then.”
“Already under way.”
As they strode down the corridor, Gabe stopped to peer through the open doors, surveying the progress in each chamber. No wallpaper in this one, unfinished molding in another . . .
Unacceptable.
“So tell me about these other ‘obstacles’ you’ve encountered.”
Hammond stared down the staircase and lowered his voice, speaking through unmoving lips. “I’m looking at one of them now.”
Gabe peered in the same direction. “The housekeeper?”
“Oh, good,” he muttered. “You see her, too.”
“Should I not?”
“I don’t know. I’m not certain she’s human. Sometimes I think she’s a ghost who’s been haunting the place for centuries.”
Gabe gave his architect a worried look. Maybe Hammond needed a holiday. The man was getting on in years.
He assessed the housekeeper in the light of day. The woman carried herself with a strict demeanor, and her appearance might as well have been sketched in charcoal—from her severely parted black hair, down her black buttoned frock, all the way to her polished black shoes.
“She looks like the typical housekeeper if you ask me.”
“There is nothing typical about that woman,” Hammond said. “You’ll see. I swear, she moves through walls. Materializes out of thin air. You’ll be walking down a perfectly empty corridor. Suddenly, there she is right in front of you.”
Gabe had to admit, she’d certainly appeared out of nowhere last night.
“I’m an architect. If there were secret corridors in this house, I’d know—and there aren’t. I’m telling you, she’s some kind of spirit. I’m hoping you’ll sack her, but I’m not certain it would work. You’ll need an exorcism, I think.”
“Finding and training a suitable replacement would be a monumental task on its own.” Gabe knew the value of a competent employee—and after last night, he wasn’t giving the woman any reason to go spreading vindictive rumors about. “So long as she’s loyal, she stays.”
“She’s much too loyal. She doesn’t want anything changed. Projects that were done one day will be mysteriously undone the next morning.”
“So she’s meddling?”
“That, or working incantations.”
“I’m not going to sack her. When people are competent in their posts, I keep them on.” He gave Hammond a look. “Even if they are annoying.”
“I worried you’d say as much.” Hammond sighed. “Whatever else can be said for the creature, she does know this house. Better than you know the face of a shilling.”
I doubt that.
“But when she has you scared out of your wits,” Hammond said, “don’t come knocking at my door in the middle of the night. I won’t let you in.”
“How disappointing.”
They made their way down the remainder of the stairs and into the breakfast room. A bowl of fruit sat on the table, waiting. Gabe’s mouth watered, and yet—as always—his instinct was to hesitate.
Don’t touch it, boy. That’s not for the likes of you.
No matter how much wealth he amassed, it seemed he would never banish that voice. And no matter how much he devoured, satisfaction eluded him. The hunger never went away.
He reached for an apple, shined it on his waistcoat, and took a defiant bite.
“And then there’s your third problem.” Hammond nodded at the window. “Just out there, on the green. Lady Penelope Campion.”