Photographs & Phantoms (8 page)

Amy clutched Kendall’s hand tightly as she sat in the Hadrians’ private sitting room at the Bedford Hotel. He squeezed back every so often, as if reassuring himself that she was actually there.

The legalities had been sorted out. Her marriage to Peterson had been proven invalid on several grounds. First of all, she’d only signed the papers under duress. Secondly, the minister had been found, drunk, and had been just as easily bribed to swear the so-called ceremony had never taken place, especially since he hadn’t bothered to file the forms with the government.

Peterson’s body had been dealt with by the constables. Constable Bailey had woken up as soon as the sapphire that had hit him was destroyed, and poor Inspector Everett was resting in a hospital, already demanding to be released, despite being weak from blood loss. The remaining gems had been destroyed.

Now it was Amy’s turn to fill in the blanks, to explain everything to her assembled group of saviors. Tom, Caro and all but the youngest of her children listened eagerly.

“Apparently, the bandits he fought in India belonged to a specific cult,” she told them all. Michael had bragged a good bit while she’d been under his control, wanting her to see how clever he was. “They would trap the spirits of their enemies in the stones, but the ghosts were corrupted into the serpents you saw in the photographs. Each phantom only had one power, and the larger stone was the master of the others. The wearer of the ruby could command the spirits in the sapphires. He placed one in the toy horse, with the power to poison. It killed everyone it bit—including poor little Daisy Merchant. I can’t believe he ever imagined I could forgive him for that.”

“Go on, dearest.” Kendall squeezed her hand again. “And remember. None of this was your fault. You can’t blame yourself for Peterson’s mental illness. He may have been possessed by the so-called master stone. It would explain why a decorated soldier became so twisted.”

“Somehow, he learned that I had money, and he began to covet it. He wanted me to give up photography, and then he assumed I’d marry him, since he was the only relatively young, single man I knew. I suppose he assumed I’d be desperate for a husband if I wasn’t spending all my time on my so-called hobby. When you arrived, he panicked and escalated his plan.”

He lifted her hand and kissed it, sending a curl of warmth through her belly. “That’s where he went so horribly wrong. You’re not marrying anyone but me.”

Ignoring all the others in the room, she looked up at him. “I though you weren’t ready for marriage.”

“That was before I met you.” He kissed her deeply, heedless of their rapt audience.

“Did I hear someone mention marriage?” The door opened and two men walked in. Amy turned her head to see a tall, dark-haired man make a beeline for Caro, sweeping her up and into his arms. This had to be Lord Northland. “Not marrying off our children without me, are you, darling?”

Another man of perhaps fifty followed him, his keen blue eyes seeking out Amy. One eyebrow lifted when he saw her in Kendall’s embrace.

Kendall flushed and stood, bringing Amy with him as the older man approached. “Amy, I’d like you to meet your great-uncle, Rhys, Marquess Drood. Drood, meet your great-niece Amelie—otherwise known as my fiancée.”
Oh, hell.
He hadn’t actually asked her yet. Kendall wished himself down through the floorboards for his own presumption.

Lord Drood bowed over Amy’s hand and studied Kendall skeptically before giving them a wry smile. “You’re just like your grandmother, aren’t you, girl? Ten minutes with the right man, and that’s that. Not a doubt in your mind.”

Amy smiled back. She was going to like her great-uncle. “I suppose I am, my lord. But my grandparents were happily married for forty years. I could do a lot worse than to follow their lead.”

“True enough.” He patted her hand, then passed it back to Kendall. “And you, young man, know exactly what I’ll do to you if you don’t treat her right. Don’t you?”

“I’m aware of that, sir. And you know my own mother and grandmother will make sure of it, until Amy’s parents can get here from Canada for the wedding.”

“This is going to be a logistical nightmare, isn’t it?” Amy turned to Kendall and looked up in panic. “My parents, brothers, nieces and nephews flying over, Mrs. Bennett and the others from Lilac Lane, all mixed together with your family…a duke, two duchesses and all the rest. Kendall, are you sure you want to go through with this? I don’t know anything about being a wife, let alone a peeress.”

“I’m sure.” He got down on one knee in front of all of them. “But it’s occurred to me that I forgot to properly ask.”

Jamie cheered and Piers whistled, while Wink and Nell clapped.

“Amelie Deland, I love you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

“And my photography?” She was going to say yes eventually, of course, but she did want to hear his thoughts on her work. He wouldn’t make her stop, would he? He had to know how much photography was a part of her soul.

He smiled up at her. “I’d rather you not keep regular business hours, so we can travel together, but we’ll sort something out, sweetheart. I’d never keep you from pursuing your art.”

“Then all I can say is yes.”

It was much later—far later—when Kendall finally got Amy alone for a few minutes. They’d sent off airmail letters to her family and teletexts to his, setting in motion what was bound to be a circus of wedding preparations. To say his parents were elated would have been putting it mildly. His grandmother was already planning to turn over a full wing of Trowbridge House, the massive family home in London, to the two of them.

Now, he’d sneaked into Amy’s hotel room via the adjoining balcony and found her sitting cross-legged on her bed in her nightdress, brushing out her hair.

“Hello,” she said with a smile. “What took you so long?”

“You were expecting me?” He crossed the room to sit beside her and take her in his arms.

Amy chuckled, and the sound filled him with joy. “Silly man. Why do you think the window was unlocked?” She touched his cheek and gazed at him with love and laughter in her eyes. “I have faith in you, Kendall. I always will.”

“You know they’re all going to do their best to keep us apart until after the wedding, right?”

She nodded, twining her arms around her neck. “And with so much family to consider, it isn’t going to happen for a month or two. I don’t want to wait that long.”

Kendall grinned. “Then it’s a good thing I stopped by the chemist’s earlier.” He tossed a small parcel from his coat pocket onto the bed. “I love you, Amy. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say that enough.”

“I love you too. Now stop talking and show me.” Her kiss let him know he was in for the adventure of a lifetime.

Cindy Spencer Pape is an avid reader of romance, fantasy, mystery, and even more romance. According to
The Romance Studio,
her plots are “full of twists and turns that keep the reader poised at the edge of their seat.”
Joyfully Reviewed
said her “colorful characters and plot building surprises kept me spellbound,” and
RT Book Reviews
says her “characters are appealing, and passionate sex leads to a satisfying romance.”

Cindy firmly believes in happily-ever-after. Married for more than twenty years to her own, sometimes-kilted, hero, she lives in southern Michigan with him and two teenage sons, along with an ever-changing menagerie of pets. Cindy has been, among other things, a banker, a teacher and an elected politician, but mostly an environmental educator, though now she is lucky enough to write full-time. Her degrees in zoology and animal behavior
almost
help her comprehend the three male humans who share her household.

Cindy loves to hear from readers. To contact her, or for more about Cindy and her books, you can find her on her website, www.cindyspencerpape.com, or her blog, www.cindyspencerpape.blogspot.com.

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