Page 17 of Ghost Walk
“You were a pirate.” Grace corrected. “Not a businessman.”
True enough, but he’d rather she not focus on that part of his biography. It wouldn’t help to convince her he wasn’t a criminal, if she knew he stole for a living. “I prefer the term ‘privateer.’”
“Except youweren’ta privateer. You were a pirate. Granted, you missed the Golden Age of Piracy by about fifty years, but you made up for that in the sheer amount of stuff you stole. You got rich by robbing merchants up and down the Eastern seaboard. And the rest of Harrisonburg thought you were guilty of far worse.”
Lord, she could be a stern little thing. “They also burned a few midwives as witches. Harrisonburg’s justice system wasn’t exactly foolproof.”
One black eyebrow arched. “No one was burned as a witch in Virginia.”
He made a face, because she was technically right. “Well, it wasn’t for lack of trying, I assure you. The people of this town would’ve convicted a melon of a crime, if it came from the wrong family. All they cared about was having a respectable name.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it.” She muttered. “Still,Horror in Harrisonburgpoints out there was overwhelming evidence against you.”
“So you said in that slanderous Ghost Walk you gave. But the evidence waswrong.”
She kept talking. “You romanced all three of the victims, and you couldn’t give an alibi for any of the disappearances, and you had a temper…”
Jamie cut her off. “I’m Scottish. Ofcourse, I have a bloody temper! ButI didn’t hurt thosegirls.” He carefully spaced out the words. “Those ‘reports’ of yours were given by the very fools who hanged me. You think they’d admit thattheywere the actual murderers? I didnothingand the wankers killed me in the street!”
“The victims…”
He cut her off. “I danced with them at the Summer Ball, but I had no reason to harm any of them. I danced with quite a few girls that night. Not all of them died!”
“Maybethesegirls spurned you.”
Jamie snorted. “Lucinda Wentworth was the only one I spoke to for more than a few moments. And I assure you, she didn’t spurn me at that ball. Or later that night.”
Grace blinked owlishly. “You slept with Lucinda Wentworth?”
Despite himself, he smiled at her shocked tone. “My time was not so puritanical as your time would like to believe. Miss Wentworth fancied bold men and wasn’t shy about revealing her predilections.” He paused, recalling Lucinda with a wry grin. “She wasn’t shy about revealinganything, actually. Once she even…” He trailed off, because, deep down, he struggled with lamentably honorable impulses. He tried toignore them, but they were always whispering in his head, telling himnotto be a jackass. “Well, Lucinda was a lovely girl.”
For once, Grace actually looked interested in something he had to say. Her pretty face lit up. “I’ve seen all the layers women dressed in back then. How did she get in and out of her clothes? Did she takeeverythingoff when you two met for your dates? It seems like a colossal bother to deal with all the petticoats and stays. How did it work?”
Jamie stared at her for a beat. “Do you really wish to hear what Lucinda wore to our assignations?That’swhat you want to be discussing?”
“No.” She reluctantly murmured, even though she clearly wanted to discuss just that. “We can talk about something else.” She paused. “I just… I mean… Did you love her?”
His lips curved at that innocent question. Perhaps there was a bit of whimsy in the girl’s soul, after all. “No. T’was never a romance between us, just a bit of sport.” Lucinda had never been his and he’d never been hers. They were both waiting for other people. “We were friends, though. I liked her and I have no desire to gossip about her undergarments.”
Grace’s head tilted. “Okay.” She said with far less hostility than she’d been showing him thus far. “I respect the fact you’re a gentleman.”
Jamie frowned. “I’mnota gentleman.” God, he’d nearly rather be called a serial killer again. “I just never harmed a hair on Lucinda’s head. Or Anabel’s or Clara’s.That’swhat I’m saying.”
“You’re so touchy. I was giving you acompliment.” She paused. “And they didn’thavehair on their heads. That’s some kind of evasion thing, right? All of you wore wigs back then. Even the women. Shaved heads and wigs all tallowed into place.” She wrinkled her nose in a way that was quite delightful. “The smell must have been God-awful.”
The Good Lord save him from this daft woman. “Can you focus on what actually matters here? We need to clear my name.”
She made a face. “Except I’m still half-convincedyou’re guilty.”
Jamie shook his head. “You wouldn’t have been sent to me if you weren’t the one I was waiting for. I can’t rest until I’ve proven my innocence. Perhaps it’s why I’m still here.”
“Maybe you’re just not trying hard enough to leave.” She retorted. “All this happened over two hundred years ago. Maybe you need to just… let it go.”
“I can’t let it go!” He roared. “I washanged, woman! They put a rope around my neck and theyfucking hanged meon the very street you walk along every day. They left my body strung up for three days, with a sign around my neck calling me a murderer! That’s not something I canlet goof!”
“You’re not even trying to…”
He cut her off before she could offer another denial. “You have to help me, Grace.” He scraped a hand through his hair, pacing up and down the length of her small parlor. “I need to know who’s responsible for killing me. Because whoever murdered those girls?Hewas the one who should’ve died at the hands of that mob. Not me.Him. He killed me too and I want to know the bastard’s name.”
