A Curse of the Heart by Adele Clee

considered appropriate in Society,” she informed coldly. “As you know, my parents are dead, Lord Wellford. So I may choose my friends and my business associates as I please.”
    “As the daughter of a respected peer, your reputation should be important to you.”
    The sweeping statement caused her heart to thump against her chest. “I may be the daughter of a peer but I was born out of wedlock, or have you forgotten. Besides, it is hardly an appropriate topic of conversation to have in front of guests.”
    The room fell silent. The only sound she was aware of was her own ragged breath.
    “Miss Linwood came to me because she believed she had brought a dreadful curse upon herself,” Mr. Stone finally said. The words sounded measured and controlled, yet Rebecca could feel the tension emanating from him. “She was hearing voices at night, scratching and moaning while the wind rattled her shutters, and a mysterious force shook her bed. As a lady living alone, you can imagine how terrifying that would be.”
    George did not even attempt to look shocked or embarrassed but just sat there as though listening to yet another report of the day’s weather.
    Rebecca heard the sound of grinding teeth and glanced at Mr. Stone to witness the muscles twitch in his rigid jaw.
    “The noises were made by an intruder,” he continued, “and frightened her out of her wits.”
    The mere mention of the intruder brought the memory of the haunting flooding back. On the first night, she had thought rats were scurrying about the boxes, thought she had imagined the bed move. It was on the second night that she heard the moaning, that she imagined a figure floating up the stairs and held her breath while she waited for it to burst through the door.
    “We know it was you,” she suddenly blurted, releasing the fear she had held on to for more than a week. “We know you arranged it all.”
    “I take it Mr. Pearce confessed,” George said with a hapless shrug. “What do you want me to say, Rebecca? That I’m sorry. Because I’m not.” He ignored Mr. Stone’s sudden intake of breath. “You were never in any danger, and it is only a matter of time before something untoward happens to you.”
    Mr. Stone thrust himself forward. “You’re wrong,” he said. “She was in danger, in danger of losing her sanity. In her desperation, she could have fled the house in the dead of night. Do you know how many unpleasant characters wander the streets at such an ungodly hour?”
    His words appeared to have some effect and for the first time, George’s cobalt-blue eyes flashed with remorse.
    “What else was I to do?” George asked, pushing his hand through his golden locks. “She refuses to heed my advice, insists on calling herself Miss Linwood when it is clearly not the name of her birth. She needs the protection of her family.”
    No matter what George said, Rebecca would never be a Wellford. He could plead, protest and dress it all up in a fancy ribbon, but it would not change the fact she was not part of his family.
    Mr. Stone sighed. “What do you want from her?”
    “I know what he wants,” she said. “He wants to chase me out of my home so he can claim it for himself.”
    “You know that is not true, Rebecca,” George said softly. “What need do I have for a house full of dusty old relics? I want you to accept you have a place here, with your family, that is all.” He turned his attention to Mr. Stone. “You have kin. I recall there being a younger sister. Tell me you do not want what is best for her.”
    Rebecca turned sharply. Why had he not mentioned he had a sister? When her eyes met his, the pain she saw there made her heart ache.
    “My sister is only ten,” he said, with a hint of sadness in his voice, “and while I can understand your motives, I cannot condone your methods. Miss Linwood shares your father’s passion for the ancient world. Her home is a place filled with magic and wonder. It is a place where she feels