A Man Of Many Talents by Deborah Simmons Read Free Book Online Page B

simply fallen into the role? More important, what color were her eyes? Perhaps he could get close enough today to find out. And why did she smell so damn good?
    “Well, that was quite a lively meal, I must say! But now I think I’ll pop into the old hall, just to see if your specter’s about,” the colonel said, clearing his throat loudly. “Care to join me, my lord?”
    Startled, as always, by the colonel’s voice, Christian was taken unawares by the invitation. He glanced at Miss Parkinson, who gave him a look as if to ask why he was hesitating. After all, the ghost was the only reason he was here, wasn’t it? Resisting the temptation to scowl, Christian rose to his feet. “Certainly. If you’ll excuse me, ladies? Emery.”
    Once they stepped out of the dining room, the colonel hurried Christian along, then motioned for him to come closer with a conspiratorial air. “I’ve been doing some research of my own, in a bit of effort to help our dear benefactress,” he confided in a low voice.
    “Benefactress?” Christian echoed.
    “Cousin Abigail,” the colonel said. “She’s generously allowed us all to stay on here, at least for the time being.” Christian felt the first stirrings of real distrust—not that he was by nature a suspicious person. Like hell, his grandfather would say. He had been bo rn with the instincts of his pirate ancestors, a useful trait that had enabled him to keep his pockets full amid Lond on vices that destroyed the for tunes of many another young man. It was those very instincts that had told him something at Belles Corn ers wasn’t as it should be. And now he wondered just what was happening at Sibel Hall.
    “Stay on?”
    “Well, ahem, yes. You see, Emery and I were living here when Bascomb passed away. Or rather, Emery was here on an extended stay, after being at school. Wanted to study his heritage, and all that.”
    “And Mercia?” Christian asked.
    “Oh, she has her own household, but she has remained here to help Abigail,” the colonel said.
    Yes, she was a real help with her ghost sightings and weird lore, Christian thought cynically.
    “As I was saying,” the colonel began. Obviously, he was trying to get back to his point, but Christian wouldn’t let him.
    “And Abigail,” Christian cut in, only to pause to mull over the name. It struck some chord deep inside him, like a treasure long buried or a memory since forgotten. He drew a breath. “And Miss Parkinson was living here as well?”
    “Oh, no. She came after the funeral. I expect she didn’t even know about Bascomb’s death until the solicitor contacted her about the bequest.”
    “I see. So she was willed the house?” Christian recalled something like that from the letter, but he hadn’t been paying much attention at the time. Now it seemed more important.
    “Yes, ahem, and most gracious she has been about it,” the colonel said, obviously uncomfortable with the path of the conversation. “But, as I was saying, I’ve been doing some studying of my own.” He drew himself up, his mustaches bouncing. “Ghosts, you know.”
    “Ghosts?”
    “Yes! Can’t say I knew much about them before. Not my line, so to speak,” he said, chuckling heartily. “But I’ve been looking through the large library here at Sibel Hall. Bascomb was quite the scholar, you know. Runs in the family,” he added, preening. “Though I must admit that heretofore I have not been one of those so inclined.”
    “And what have you discovered?” Christian asked, now desperate for the old man to get to the point. If there was one.
    “Well, it seems they’re a product of their times,” the colonel pronounced.
    “What?”
    “Ghosts, my lord! Back in the old days, you didn’t hear much about them because the early church fathers didn’t take to such things. But then, when the stories do start cropping up, they pretty much echo the teachings of the period— punishments and rewards after death, that sort of thing.” The