Dangerous Lord, Seductive Mistress by Mary Brendan

Author:Mary Brendan [Brendan, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-4603-4936-6
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2010-11-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

‘Noose-head Ned?’

‘Oh, for Heaven’s sake!’ Deborah’s exclamation had mingled with Randolph’s amused quizzical voice for they had spoken together. ‘Fred was blathering about that silly tale the other day when I was tending Edmund’s grave.’ An exasperated sigh huffed out of her. ‘I suspect he has allowed his imagination to get the better of him.’ Deborah gave her friend an apologetic look. ‘I will go directly and try to calm him down before he causes a commotion and spoils the party.’

‘Who or what is Noose-head Ned?’ Randolph asked. His eyes had narrowed speculatively and the humour was no longer in his tone.

‘It is just a foolish tale of a ghostly being rumoured to materialise at night,’ Deborah explained. ‘According to Fred there are villagers who have become hysterical after the spectre crossed their path. He’s said to ride about moaning and groaning and swinging the noose that remains about his neck.’ On seeing Randolph’s sharpening interest, she told him what she knew about the origins of fabled Noose-head Ned.

‘Ned Swinton was a smuggler who was hanged several years ago. Or rather he was in the process of being hanged when some daring accomplices darted out of the crowd to free him. He was still kicking when they cut him down, and they rode hard and got away from their pursuers. By all accounts when they stopped, believing they were in the clear, Ned was found to have expired on his horse, still upright in the saddle with his hands entangled in the reins.’ She gave a self-conscious little laugh. ‘Folklore has it that Ned believes he still breathes and instead of passing over to a spirit world he’s trapped in a limbo between life and death.’ A small gesture described her scepticism. ‘His body was allegedly dumped out at sea by his cohorts. Now Ned favours haunting the churchyard to look for a resting place, and the lanes around Pump Cottage where he once lived as a young man.’ Having told all she knew, she started towards the door with a vexed sigh.

Randolph stopped her before she had time to quit the room. His fingers felt warm and firm on her cool, yielding forearm. ‘I’ll come with you and speak to Fred Cook just in case there is something in what he says that needs investigation. He might have actually seen a human being.’

He didn’t elaborate, but Deborah knew what he was thinking. Her driver might have caught a glimpse of a moon-dusted tramp and in his fanciful state believed the fellow a phantom. A grateful smile accepted his assistance. ‘But I don’t think Captain Stewart should yet be alerted,’ she added in a cautionary way. ‘I wouldn’t like an innocent traveller to be apprehended because of Fred’s hysteria.’

‘Amen to that,’ Randolph muttered drily. ‘I think the captain could be overzealous if he chose to be.’

‘I shall go back to the music room,’ Harriet interjected, ‘and act as if all is well.’ The opening bars of another rousing tune could be heard coming from along the corridor and made Harriet smile in relief.

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