Free Ghost of Christmas Past by Rebecca King

and
stretch her legs, it had done little to ease the gnawing ache the
continual rocking of the carriage had created in her legs, her back
and, well, every part of her.
    Throughout it all, Rupert had ridden seemingly undeterred by
the long hours in the hard saddle and, on more than one occasion,
had disappeared from view completely only to reappear as soon as
the carriage had left the coaching inn yard with fresh horses.
Where he had been or what he had been doing she had not been able
to find out because she had barely had the opportunity to exchange
more than a few words with him since they had left Leicestershire.
Even then their conversations had been focused around her
discomfort, the pace they had managed to maintain, and the distance
they had yet to go. He always closed the carriage door on
reassurance that the journey would soon be over and, if she needed
anything, she was to signal to the coachman to stop. She knew that
they were hurrying because of her uncle’s poorly condition but
Rupert’s sense of urgency did nothing to quell the gnawing fear
that he hadn’t been entirely honest about just how ill her uncle
was.
    Still,
they were here now. She had never actually seen Ridings because her
uncle had purchased it only a year or so before the carriage
accident and she had never been allowed to pay a visit. Although
she had read about the place her uncle called home from his many
letters, the detailing he had given her had done little to describe
the luxurious splendour of the huge town house that sat amidst a
long row of identical houses in an extremely expensive part of
London.
    Thea was
studying the huge façade of the town house when Rupert appeared by
the carriage door. Apart from a thin layer of dust he looked fresh
faced and completely unperturbed by the long distance they had
travelled in such a short space of time. Thea, however, knew that
she must look as weary and bedraggled as she felt. Rupert didn’t
appear to notice though or, if he did, was too much of a gentleman
to say anything. Instead, he handed her down from the coach with
the same gentle consideration he had shown back in
Leicestershire.
    Rupert
studied the dark shadows beneath her eyes and bit back a curse. He
wished now that they had stopped at a coaching inn overnight at
least once while they had been travelling. She looked exhausted,
with dark circles beneath her eyes and a wan complexion that was
vaguely alarming. She very fragile as she stepped out of the
carriage that he wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her
inside. He could only hope that the news was good when they got
there.
    He
glanced up and down the street as he escorted Thea up the freshly
swept steps toward the front door. The knocker was missing as he
had instructed, and he was pleased to note that the shutters on the
front face of the house were all closed. Only the gentle waft of
smoke from the chimney pots gave any hint that someone was at
home.
    They
were half way up the stairs when Argus opened the door.
    “ Good morning, Argus.” Rupert nodded to the efficient butler
as he swept Thea into house. From their position inside the cool
shadows of the entrance hall, he knew that even the most determined
gunman wouldn’t find her as a target and visibly relaxed now that
the first phase of his job was complete.
    His eyes
met and held the butler’s in silent enquiry. In deference to Thea’s
presence, he didn’t ask the question in case the news was not good,
however Thea pre-empted him and asked anyway.
    “ I am John’s niece, Theadora,” she declared quietly as she
removed her dusty gloves.
    “ I am pleased to be able to welcome you to Ridings, Miss
Weatherby. I am your uncle’s butler, Argus.”
    “ How is my uncle?” Thea glanced around the entrance hall but
saw very little of the plush splendour. The coachman and Tilly were
busy carrying the trunks and boxes into the hallway, but the noise
didn’t distract her from witnessing the unspoken exchange