took to his heels. The girl shook out her skirts and tossed her head in satisfaction.
His interest definitely caught, Alan examined this unusual creature more closely. She was small—the top of her head did not quite reach his shoulder—but the curves of her form were not at all childlike. The bodice of her pale green gown was admirably filled and it draped a lovely line of waist and hip. Her skin glowed like ripe peaches against her glossy brown hair. He couldn’t see whether her eyes had any resemblance to forest pools, but her lips were mesmerizing—very full and beautifully shaped. The word “luscious” occurred to him, and he immediately rejected it as nonsense. What the devil was he doing, he wondered? He wasn’t a man to be beguiled by physical charms, or to waste his time on such maunderings. Still, he was having trouble tearing his eyes away from her when it was brought home to him that she had noticed him.
“No, I do not wish to go with you into another room,” she declared, meeting his gaze squarely. “Or into the garden, or out to your carriage. I do not require an escort home. Nor do I need someone to tell me how to go on or to ‘protect’ me.” She stared steadily up at him, not looking at all embarrassed.
Her eyes were rather like forest pools, Alan thought; dead leaves aside. They were a sparkling mixture of brown and green that put one in mind of the deep woods. “What are you doing here?” he couldn’t resist asking her.
“That is none of your affair. What are you doing here?”
Briefly, Alan wondered what she would think if he told her. He would enjoy hearing her response, he realized. But of course he couldn’t reveal his supposed “mission.”
A collective gasp passed over the crowd, moving along the room like wind across a field of grain. Alan turned quickly. This was what he had been waiting for through the interminable hours and days. There! He started toward the sweeping staircase that adorned the far end of the long room, pushing past knots of guests transfixed by the figure that stood in the shadows atop it.
On the large landing at the head of the stairs the candles had gone out—or been blown out, Alan amended. In the resulting pool of darkness, floating above the sea of light in the room, was a figure out of some sensational tale. It was a woman, her skin bone white, her hair a deep chestnut. She wore an antique gown of yellow brocade, the neckline square cut, the bodice tight above a long full skirt. Alan knew, because he had been told, that this was invariably her dress when she appeared, and that it was the costume she had worn onstage to play Lady Macbeth.
Sound reverberated through the room—the clanking of chains—as Alan pushed past the guests, who remained riveted by the vision before them. The figure seemed to hover a foot or so above the floor. The space between the hem of its gown and the stair landing was a dark vacancy. Its eyes were open, glassy and fixed, effectively dead-looking. Its hands and arms were stained with gore.
A bloodcurdling scream echoed down the stairs. Then a wavering, curiously guttural voice pronounced the word “justice” very slowly, three times. The figure’s mouth had not moved during any of this, Alan noted.
He had nearly reached the foot of the stairs when a female guest just in front of him threw up her arms and crumpled to the floor in a faint. Alan had to swerve and slow to keep from stepping on her, and as he did so, something struck him from behind, upsetting his balance and nearly knocking him down. “What the devil?” he said, catching himself and moving on even as he cast a glance over his shoulder. To his astonishment, he found that the girl he had encountered a moment ago was right on his heels. He didn’t have time to wonder what she thought she was doing. “Stay out of my way,” he commanded and lunged for the stairs.
There was another terrible shriek, but even as Alan pounded up the long curving stairway, the apparition at the top vanished into darkness. Cursing, he kept going. He didn’t believe for one moment that the ghost of a recently dead actress was haunting Carlton House, whatever the prince might say. It was some sort of hoax. And he had to uncover it, and