“How can I assist you this evening, Your Grace?”
Levi gestured, indicating Mr. Northcutt should resume his seat. “Did either yourself or Mrs. Grove venture to the second floor in the past twenty minutes?”
“No, Your Grace.” A wrinkle formed on Mr. Northcutt’s forehead, as though he found Levi’s question worrisome. “We’ve been playing cards for over an hour.”
Collecting the cards from the table, Mrs. Grove nodded her concurrence.
Beaufort leaned around Levi. “Have either of you heard anything… peculiar?”
Mr. Northcutt’s eyes narrowed. He wouldn’t speak his mind, not in the presence of men of higher rank, but Levi knew his valet’s frustration over the situation. They’d lost half the staff in the past month due to the unexplained disturbances.
“If you’re referring to the unfortunate rumor that Mr. Philbert’s ghost has assumed a residence here, I have not,” Mr. Northcutt replied, his clipped tone indicating he’d answer no more questions on the topic.
Unruffled by his response, Beaufort turned his attention to the cook. “Mrs. Grove?”
“Nor I have,” she said, shuffling the cards. “However, if one needed evidence of a supernatural event, I would suggest searching the location of the man’s death.”
“The gazebo!” Beaufort and Roxburghe cried simultaneously.
They tripped over each other, fighting to exit through the doorway first, and were blocked by Warwick, who appeared less than pleased to be shoved aside in their rambunctious attempt to reach the conservatory.
“If I had two good legs, I’d ensure at least one of you spent an eternity with Mr. Philbert,” he yelled after them.
Riotous laughter rippled down the hallway.
Sighing, Levi strode after them, glancing over at Mansfield. “We can’t leave them to their foolishness.”
“We could…” He tilted his head as though considering the option. “But I’d like to investigate the gazebo as well.”
“Come on, Warwick,” Grisham said, passing Mansfield. “The conservatory’s warmth might ease the pain in your leg.”
“I’m not suffering from any discomfort.” Warwick groaned when he took his first step, then shot a sheepish grin at Grisham. “Perhaps your suggestion holds some merit.”
Not one to gloat, Grisham merely inclined his head and gestured toward the door leading to the conservatory. They walked in a slow procession, each man tapering his pace to match that of Warwick, whose lethargic gait emphasized his lack of exercise.
Grasping the door handle, Levi paused, preventing Warwick from entering the conservatory. “Are you still working with Miss Ollerton?”
“I terminated her.” Warwick reached for the handle, but Levi blocked him.
“I thought she was an excellent nurse.”
“She whistled. Incessantly.”
The corner of his mouth pulling into a grimace, Levi opened the door, and they entered the conservatory. Roxburghe and Beaufort were three-quarters of the way down the path, their heads bent toward each other as though they were discussing a private matter.
“What is that?” Mansfield said, pointing over Levi’s shoulder at the gazebo.
Levi’s eyes flicked to the right. He gasped.
A shadow hovered at the top of the gazebo steps, inches from where Mr. Philbert’s body had been discovered last month with a knife protruding from his chest.
Mr. Philbert’s ghost.
CHAPTER THREE
EVELINE/HELENA
One hour prior
