“The rules of the wager did not state that the passage had to be read alone, only first.” Grisham nudged Mansfield. “On my count.”
Clasping his arms behind his back, Roxburghe strode to the other side of Mansfield and bent, peering over Mansfield’s shoulder. “Surely three is better than two.”
“Why not four, then?” Mansfield grumbled.
Levi almost felt pity for his friend… almost.
“Care to join us?” Mansfield asked, snatching the cover away from Roxburghe’s curious fingers.
“I don’t believe, remember?” Levi crossed his arms over his chest. “I would prefer to watch the show from here.”
“If this exorcism works,” Mansfield said, his brown eyes darkening to black, “I pray you are the next to fall prey to the feminine charms.”
The corners of Levi’s mouth pulled into a sinister grin. “If I fall, you all fall.”
Roxburghe snickered. “I’ll support you in that quest.”
Mansfield snapped the book shut. “Keep threatening my happiness, and I’ll refuse to read the passage.”
“Lies.” Grisham pointed at Mansfield’s finger, which held his place in the tome. “You’re too invested in this adventure to walk away.”
Mansfield made a rude gesture and reopened the book. “Only because I want to satisfy my curiosity.”
“Of course,” Grisham said, painting on a grand smile. “Do continue.”
No one moved while Mansfield read. His solemn voice, loud, clear, and echoing, rebounded off the wooden rafters. As his voice died, another gust of wind whipped through the gazebo, stirring the dying embers and stealing the last bit of smoke from the mortar.
“How do we know the exorcism worked?” Grisham asked, his whispered question breaking the silence that settled over the men.
Roxburghe shrugged, then yelled, “Mr. Philbert! Are you here?”
A soft, chilling breeze ruffled his hair. Frowning, Roxburghe turned in a slow circle, his gaze sliding over the rear of the gazebo. He made a noise in his throat as though he’d wanted to swear but swallowed the word.
“What is it?” Levi asked, his attention drawn to the glass wall at which Roxburghe stared.
“Did you mend the broken glass pane that Miss Webb found behind the gazebo the same night she discovered Mr. Philbert’s body?”
Levi opened his mouth to argue that, of course, he’d had the wall repaired, but he paused, his jaw slightly agape, recalling that directly following the murder, he and Roxburghe spent an arduous fortnight traveling across England in a coach.
He sighed and expelled a low curse, then strode to the rear of the gazebo and peered over the edge. His gaze slid along the base of the wall, stopping at the broken panel. Shaking his head, he twisted around, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice.
“I forgot. The peril your fiancée faced pushed the memory from my mind.”
This time, Roxburghe did swear.
Mansfield bent and retrieved the mortar full of ash. “Since we have no possible means to determine if the ritual worked, we’ll need to wait for more signs of Mr. Philbert’s presence.”
“We?” Levi frowned. “Are you not lodging with Roxburghe for the remainder of the season?”
“Are you?” Mansfield asked, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smirk.
“No.” Snatching the mortar from Mansfield, Levi descended the gazebo steps. “Mr. Philbert is not going to force me from my home.”
“You should warn Warwick,” Mansfield said, keeping pace with Levi as they trudged down the pathway toward the house entrance. “He may want to alter his living situation for the next few months.”
Grisham groaned from behind them. “This will give him the excuse he needs to abandon the season before my—our—weddings.”
“He won’t leave,” Roxburghe said, a hint of amusement in his deep voice. “The decision will cost him ten thousand pounds.”
