I jerked forward, my elbows on my knees. “The spirits?”
Mr. Mason gave an awkward chuckle. “He means the drink. I will send for cake and a drink, Mr. Clodwick.”
Clodwick shook his head. “No, Mr. Mason. I meant the other kind of spirits.”
Mr. Mason froze halfway off the sofa and sat back down. “Cousin, we discussed this before we left. There would be no talk of . . . you know.” He said the last bit under his breath, but I heard it easily enough.
“I don’t mind if you speak of it,” I said. “In fact, I am quite curious. Tell me about these spirits and what they have to do with Miss Delafield.”
If possible, Mr. Clodwick’s face grew more solemn than it already was. “They are jealous.”
“Jealous of what?”
“That I have chosen to devote myself to another.”
My eyes widened with alarm, but Mr. Mason laughed loudly, coming to his feet. “It’s all a great joke. Mr. Ashworth, there is something I wanted to show you in the library. Will you join me for a moment?”
Annoyance flared in my chest. I knew an evasion technique when I saw one. I would humor Mr. Mason, but then I would return again to hear exactly what Mr. Clodwick had to say. Pushing to my feet, I followed him out into the corridor.
Mr. Mason took a few steps past the door before turning to me. In a hushed voice, he said, “Clodwick has always been a bit eccentric, but he is quite harmless.”
I set my hand on my hip. “He believes he is somehow responsible for Miss Delafield’s accident. Is there any truth in that?” The spirit talk was rubbish to me. If he was involved, there would be no blaming it on a supernatural being.
Mr. Mason shook his head. “No, it is nothing like that at all. He thinks his house is haunted. Half of England believes the same.”
“So you’re telling me that he’s mad?”
Mr. Mason lifted his hand and pinched his first finger with his thumb. “Just a little.”
I blinked rapidly. “And you would recommend him to be the husband to your sister-in-law?”
“Of course. As I said, he is harmless. Besides, his house is very near mine, which will allow my wife to be with her sister every day if they wish. Whatever heir they produce will inherit a vast estate and a large fortune. Not to mention the family connections are excellent,” he winked, but I found no amusement in his words at all.
I had my answer on how to get the Third Folio. I had changed my mind about leaving. If this was a contest between myself and Clodwick, surely I could win against a mad man. In fact, I had to win. Arabella might be a vexing woman, but not even she deserved to live with a man who believed he lived with ghosts.
Even as I thought the words, my commitment wavered. It would be an unprecedented feat to win Arabella’s good opinion. To do so would mean changing how she perceived me as an adult compared to my mischievous, youthful counterpart. I had to become Mr. Prologue once more. She had liked him well enough.
I would work out later how to keep my promise to Mr. Delafield. Because even if I convinced Arabella to marry me, could a woman go from hating a man to loving him? And my attraction was one thing, but could Iloveher in return? I shook my head. It would do no good getting ahead of myself. A seed did not flower overnight.
Chapter 14
Arabella
It felt as if an entire week had passed since Honey had thrown me, instead of only yesterday. I tucked my injured wrist, wrapped in strips of linen, close to my stomach, glad it was only a bad sprain and not a break. Then, I proceeded down the stairs after having breakfast in my room. My back hurt, my leg wound itched, and my wrist throbbed, but I could not stay confined to my bedchamber a moment longer. If only Harriet would respond about visiting. She would be the perfect distraction.
Laughter drew me toward the drawing room. Inside, my sisters sat with Mr. Clodwick and Mr. Ashworth. Ashworth stood and waved his arms to emphasize a part of a story he was telling, and my sisters burst into laughter once more.
What was happening? They couldn’t actually find Rowan Ashworth entertaining. They were on my side and weren’t supposed to like him at all. I hurried to the sofa where they sat.
My good hand went to my hip. “Tabitha! Elizabeth! What is the meaning of this?”
“Should you be up on your feet so soon?” Rowan asked, coming up beside me and resting a gentle hand on my shoulder.
His sudden kindness surprised me—again. “I was growing stir-crazy,” I admitted.
“You must sit down, Arabella,” Tabitha coaxed. “This will be the perfect distraction. Mr. Ashworth tells the most delightful stories.”
I did sit, but only because I needed to make certain my sisters stayed onmyside. “Did you steal all your stories from books?” I asked Rowan. Though I could not avoid the subtle jab, I tried to keep it as light and friendly as humanly possible. I had promised not to hate him, after all. And I could be just as nice as he was.