The Christmas Knot by Barbara Monajem Page B

He stood away, and she opened the door and plunged into the hall, almost colliding with Lizzie.
    Lizzie squeaked and came to a halt. With difficulty, Edwina got hold of herself. He hadn’t the slightest doubt that she was red as a raspberry. He would be embarrassed too, if he weren’t so furious. He could put up with being thrown over for a richer man, but being called a liar—no.
    “Still awake, love?” he asked his gaping daughter. “Mrs. White realized we were playing ghosts and came to berate me for deceiving her.”
    Lizzie’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Mrs. White.”
    “Nonsense,” Edwina said with impressive composure. “I was scolding your father, not you. Your acting skills are excellent.” As are Edwina’s, Richard thought irritably.
    Now Lizzie grinned. “I’m glad you found out. I didn’t like deceiving you, but we can’t count on the ghost to frighten the treasure hunters away.”
    “I suppose not,” Edwina said stiffly.
    “But isn’t it frightfully exciting when she does, like tonight?” Lizzie said. “You weren’t afraid, were you?”
    “Definitely not,” Edwina said.
    “You’re not like the other governesses,” Lizzie said. “Papa says you have spirit.”
    “He does?” Edwina sounded surprised, and he wished he hadn’t said any such thing to Lizzie, for Edwina might conclude that he still cared for her.
    “If you’d like, you can play the ghost one night,” Lizzie said.
    Edwina merely stood there with her mouth agape, so Richard answered for her. “What a good idea, Lizzie. Mrs. White believes wakeful nights are bad for children, so perhaps she can take over sometimes.”
    “I’ll have to show her how first,” Lizzie said. “The pupil teaching the governess—what fun!”
    ~ * ~
    Edwina retired to her bedchamber, whilst Richard dealt with whatever reason his daughter had come to his room. She crawled into her now-cold bed and huddled under the covers, shivering.
    What if what he’d just told her about that miserable time twelve years ago was true?
    She’d acted like a big baby at the end, putting her fingers in her ears as if she were unable to deal with the unpleasant truths of life.
    Except that this particular unpleasant truth might not be true at all, and the lies of years ago—not lies.
    A clerk’s error… It was hard to believe but certainly possible, and Papa might have been wrong in thinking Richard a fortune hunter. He’d never mentioned anything about debt, merely that Richard would doubtless like to double his fortune by marrying her, and therefore she should be cautious and bide her time.
    She leapt out of bed, lit a candle, and hurried into the cold, dark passageway. She tapped on Richard’s door.
    “What is it, Lizzie?” He sounded crotchety, but at least he was still awake.
    “It’s not Lizzie,” she said. “It’s I.” Pause. “Edwina.”
    A silence, followed by a growl. “What the devil do you want now?”
    “To talk to you.”
    “We have nothing to discuss that can’t wait until morning.”
    “Richard, it’s important!” He wasn’t going to let her in. Oh, damn! By letting her temper fly, she’d lost whatever headway she’d made with him since she had arrived.
    “The only possible subject of importance between you and me is the education of my children. I repeat, it can wait until morning.”
    Evidently she had offended him beyond bearing. Oh, how she rued her too-ready tongue.
    She grasped for something, anything. The only thing he cared about. “It’s—it’s about the ghost.”
    He made a rude noise. “Try again, Edwina. Or rather, don’t bother. I fell for you once, but now I’m immune to your wiles. I’m going to sleep.”
    He must think she had come in hope of seducing him! Shamefully, some part of her wished she could do exactly that. “I’m serious, Richard. The ghost’s voice woke me.”
    “Just now?” He laughed without humor. “And you call me a liar. You’ve barely had time to fall asleep, much less be