Free The Lord Who Sneered and Other Tales by Heidi Ashworth Page A

my concern. It is with his birth that the line continues, unbroken. So does the evil. He might prove to be the most evil of them all. Take care to keep his feet on the path of righteousness or much of goodness could be lost.”
    “I will be sure to pass the message along to the Dowager, but I can’t promise that she will be eager to share your warning with her son, the Duke.”
    “He must be warned!” the ghost wailed as it grew ever larger and more translucent so that the clouds scudded through him.
    “But what does it have to do with the two of ‘em?” Baldwin asked, jabbing his jaw in the direction of Anne and Theo as they lingered at the portal of Dunsmere House.
    “Naught, it has naaauuught,” wailed the ghost as it loomed so large and thin that it became at one with the night sky of clouds and mist. “They shall be blessed forevermore.”

A Rose for Christmas
    England, September 1812

Part One
    Baldwin, gardener of the Dunsmere estate, deposited the last of the day’s accumulation of autumn leaves onto the cerise and titian mound and set it on fire. Although he was more than fond of the vibrant display, it would never do for the oak and Chinese tupelo leaves to obscure the meticulously manicured, emerald green lawn of the Dowager Duchess of Marcross. No, indeed.
    Through a haze of smoke, he surveyed the roses that filled the area between the front lawn and the park and saw that all was well. The beautiful rose garden with its dozens of heirloom varieties had originally been planted nearly a century prior and was the pride and joy of the Dowager Duchess ofMarcross. If the wind were to pick up and carry the fire in the wrong direction, it was as much as his life was worth. He doubted not that Her Grace would go gladly to the gallows over the loss of her roses; she had very little else she cared to live for save her favorite grandson, Sir Anthony, a man who filled his days with the pursuit of pleasure and precious little else.
    However, the arrival of the newly orphaned Ginny six months prior was proving to put a permanent sparkle in the old lady’s eyes. The fact that Miss Ginerva Delacourt’s first London Season had been just shy of a full-out disaster did not keep the Dowager sunk in poor spirits for long. Indeed, the presence of the young maid, granddaughter of the old lady’s beloved brother, had softened many of her ways since Ginny had come to live at Dunsmere.
    Preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn’t hear the approach of his mistress until she appeared at his side, her face a mask of disapproval.
    “Baldwin, I pray you know what you are about, burning these leaves in such proximity to the roses!”
    “Yes’m, beggin’ your pardon, ma’am,” he said with a tug at his cap as he cursed his thoughtlessness. Though he had burned the leaves on the very same patch of ground every autumn since he had been taken on at Dunsmere, he knew the Dowager was particularly fretful this year. She was to enter a new variety of rose at the annual flower show and once she had won, as she was persuaded she must, people would flock from near and far to visit her spectacular rose garden. “I have taken care to cart out a barrel of water in the case it is needed.”
    The Dowager grunted her approval, and he thought she looked not quite so grim.
    “Tomorrow I shall rake the leaves to the verge of the east lawn, if’n it please you, Your Grace.”
    “As long as it is not too close to the potting shed, mind. Were everything on the property to burn to the ground save the roses and that potting shed I should not care one fig!”
    As the potting shed housed the specimen of the Christmas rose they had been developing the past four years, Baldwin cursed himself yet again and bowed deeply to hide the burning of his face.“Yes’m; nothing shall harm any of the roses, I so swear.”
    He stood upright to see how the Dowager gazed longingly across the lawn in the direction of the potting shed and suppressed a sigh. “If you