Seduced at Midnight

For several seconds Emily looked down and fiddled with the pale blue trim of her muslin gown. Then she raised her chin. 'It has always been my dearest hope, but I fear I'm in a situation similar to Julianne's. My father has lately suffered some… financial setbacks. Although he hasn't yet said anything, I suspect he'll be looking for a wealthy man for me. A very wealthy man.'

'And if you don't happen to love this very wealthy man?' Sarah asked.

'Love has nothing to do with it,' Julianne and Emily responded in unison. 'At least so far as our fathers are concerned,' Julianne added, unable to hide the despondency in her voice. 'Which makes me very glad I experienced that wonderful kiss,' she continued softly. 'Indeed, I was sorely tempted to steal more than a kiss.'

'I don't blame you one bit,' Sarah said. 'Lady Elaine was expected to marry another, but with Maxwell she shared kisses and so much more-'

'Again, that is not helping.' Carolyn skewered her sister with another frown.

Sarah cleared her throat, as if swallowing the rest of what she'd intended to say, then settled her concerned gaze on Julianne. 'Is there anything we can do? Having married for love, I don't see how anyone could contemplate doing otherwise.'

'Visit me in Cornwall?' Julianne suggested, trying not to sound as defeated as she felt.

Her three friends instantly agreed that they would. But in her heart, Julianne knew that once she married the duke, nothing would ever be the same again.

'There must be something more we can do,' Sarah persisted.

Julianne shook her head and fought the tears pushing behind her eyes. 'Nothing can be done. Except for me to prepare myself for my wedding.' The words tasted like sawdust in her mouth.

Sarah's mutterings sounded like, 'Something can always be done.' Then she cleared her throat and spoke up, 'Perhaps a ghost lover like Maxwell can steal you away.'

Julianne offered a weak smile at the whimsical suggestion. If only she could be stolen away. Not by a ghost, but by a real man. The only man she'd want to do so.

Gideon.

The party broke up soon afterward, and after waving good-bye to her friends through the rain-slashed foyer window, Julianne made her way back to her bedchamber. The instant she entered the room, her gaze fell upon the leather-bound The Ghost of Devonshire Manor she'd set on her dresser just before departing to meet her friends. She'd been idly flipping through the pages then, and now, after closing the door, she picked up the volume and ran her fingers over the gilt lettering on the cover.

'You were quite the devil, weren't you, Maxwell?' she murmured.

She skimmed through several pages, pausing at a random one, and began reading. Ah, yes, one of her favorite scenes, where Maxwell did his best to seduce Lady Elaine, and the lady tried her best to resist the temptation. The sensual ghost eventually managed to push past her reluctance. Just thinking about the scene that followed brought a heated flush to Julianne's cheeks. Indeed, Maxwell's best proved very pleasurable. For both him and Lady Elaine.

'You invited me to do my worst. But I'd much prefer to do my best.'

Gideon's words from earlier that afternoon echoed in her mind. Heat scorched her face then raced downward to engulf her entire body. He'd been a hairsbreadth away from kissing her. And if her plan for tonight hadn't gone awry, he'd be inside the house right now, rather than outside.

She set down the book and paced the length of the chamber, her thoughts troubled-now not so much by her impending engagement and marriage but rather a question that had plagued her all evening.

What had happened to Johnny?

She'd not seen the young coal porter since this morning when they'd struck their bargain. Since then he'd drastically changed the script of their little play, first by leaving the note in her bedchamber, then by not making any ghostly noises during the seance. Dear God, she hoped no disaster had befallen the young man. But surely his absence was merely due to the foul weather.

Foul weather that Gideon would be in right now as he guarded the house. If only it wasn't storming-

You'd sneak outside to see him?her inner voice asked with scathing disapproval.

Yes. That's exactly what she would do.

Her common sense berated her. Told her she should send up a prayer of thanks for the rain that kept her inside. Her heart countered that she wasn't made of spun sugar and therefore wouldn't melt if she got wet.

No, she wouldn't melt, but was she brave enough to venture out alone into the stormy darkness?

You wouldn't be alone. Gideon is out there.

Yes, but the perimeter of the mansion was large. What if she couldn't find him? What if, while she searched the rear of the mansion, he was patrolling the front? There was no telling how long she might be alone in the dark.

Perhaps she could entice him inside to warm himself by the fire and dry off. She could offer him something to drink. Several of Cook's delicious biscuits. Her heart sped up at the prospect.

She made her way to the window nearest her bed, pushed aside the heavy green velvet drape, and frowned. It was so dark outside, all she could see was her own dim reflection in the panes. She stepped closer to the window, trying to see beyond the balcony to the ground below and rested her hand against the glass. Chill seeped into her palm, and her insides ached at the thought of Gideon out there, cold, wet, and alone.

Lightning blazed across the sky, and Julianne blinked against the sudden brilliance. Thunder boomed following a series of lightning flashes that illuminated the entire rear gardens of the house. Julianne stared into the brightness. And her blood ran cold.

A hooded figure stood directly in front of her, holding a large knife in one gloved hand.

Her mouth dropped open in shock.

The figure reached out with its other hand and grasped the handle to the French windows. The door rattled. The lightning ended, plunging the room into darkness.

Julianne screamed and ran, the sound of the rattling ringing in her ears.

Chapter 9

Cold rain dripped down Gideon's face and neck, seeping beneath his collar to trickle down his back, a discomfort he ignored as he'd reached his saturation point hours ago and couldn't possibly get any wetter. He could only hope the foul weather wouldn't keep the so-called murdering ghost robber-or whoever had left that note in Julianne's bedchamber-from attempting his scheme tonight. For that's precisely what it would it be-an attempt-as Gideon had every intention of catching the bastard.

Especially now, since the bastard had struck again. The magistrate's disturbing news, spoken to Gideon less than two hours ago, echoed through his mind. Lady Daltry… robbed of her jewels… and murdered.

Lady Daltry, who had been alive and well this morning when Gideon had checked