The Ghost & Miss Miranda: Magic and Mayhem, #4

Prologue

Castle Keyvnor, Cornwall, June 1812

It must have been the pixies, a woman sitting behind him whispered. There is no other explanation for such beauty.

Pixies! Wesley Claxton, Marquess Epworth snorted to himself and tore his gaze away from Miss Miranda Vail long enough to examine the gardens of Castle Keyvnor. It seemed as if every flower was in full bloom, including plants that shouldn’t even be flowering this time of year. Numerous ribbons of every color imaginable hung from the trees, fluttering in the breeze. It was a magical sight, he supposed, but pixies had nothing to do with how it came about. More likely talented gardeners, who had months to prepare, had created the magical, albeit strange, setting for a wedding.

Wesley was quite done with this corner of Cornwall. He couldn’t go anywhere without overhearing superstitious talk about witches in Bocka Morrow, pixies in the gardens, a fortune-telling gypsy at the neighboring estate, or mermaids at the seashore. He’d lived along the coast his entire life and had never heard such rubbish.

It simply wasn’t logical and there was no scientific knowledge to support the existence of magical properties, or the afterlife in a spirited form.

Despite his disagreements with Miss Miranda Vail on all things magical, at least she was no longer obsessed with the notion of ghosts. When they’d been introduced during her first season, she’d seemed more interested in learning about the supposed ghost that haunted the Mayfair mansion than the ball occurring about them and he’d been quick to dismiss her as a feather-brained, odd miss.

However, his opinion had drastically changed over time, and after coming to know her, Wesley found Miranda utterly delightful. For the past three seasons they’d spent hours together and he often called on Miranda and they took drives through Hyde Park, attended the theatre and danced at balls, but she gave him no indication that she thought of him as anything more than a friend. In fact, they’d become the best of friends and confidants. And, had she flirted with him even once, Wesley would have been encouraged to pursue more. Unfortunately, Miranda had offered no such encouragement, much to his disappointment.

As he followed the other guests back to the castle after the ceremony, Wesley made plans for how he’d spend time with Miranda later today, and dance with her this evening, and when he would finally kiss her, only to pause when he noted a path through the trees. He’d walked this area several times over the past week, usually with Miranda, and he was certain he’d not seen it before.

It wasn’t a well-used path by any means, but it was a path nonetheless and curiosity had him following to see where it led until he finally came to a stop in a small clearing.

Are you following me, Lord Epworth? Miranda inquired with a tilt of her chin. Her head was angled such that her dark curls brushed against her shoulder.

I wasn’t. Wesley had no idea she’d be here, as the last he’d seen of Miranda she and her sisters had their heads together and were whispering as they left the wedding. However, he was far from disappointed in finding her in the clearing. I simply followed this path to see where it led. Why are you here?

Supposedly this is one of the most enchanting places in all of Castle Keyvnor. Miranda grinned and spread her arms wide and did a turn.

Enchanting, magical…weren’t they the same thing? What makes it so? Just because they argued about the existence of magic and he did tease her, there was nothing malicious in his tone or words. They simply held opposite opinions. His was logical and hers was fanciful. It was quite endearing and one of the things he loved about her. Miranda had the ability to imagine, whereas as much as he tried, Wesley simply couldn’t accept what could not be proven.

She pursed her lips and Wesley couldn’t help but admire everything about her, from her mahogany curls to her lavender slippers and everything in between, including her determined grey eyes and full coral lips. She was doubly lovely and desirable at moments such as this when the color was high in her cheeks. Yet, she didn’t answer his question.

Wesley glanced about, noting that they were completely alone in an intimate setting, surrounded by trees, shrubbery and numerous wildflowers and he considered the dangers. Not that he or Miss Miranda could be harmed of course, but if anyone came upon them...

No, that was an excuse he made to himself. In truth, he’d tried to avoid being alone with her because all he’d wanted to do was kiss her but feared one kiss would never be enough and as he fell deeper, she’d reject his suit.

When had he lost confidence in pursuit of a woman? He wasn’t exactly an innocent lad, and had had lovers in the past, as well as mistresses…except he had not loved any of those women. He only loved Miranda and feared losing her. He’d gone so far to convince himself that he’d rather have her as a friend than not have her at all. Except, he also could no longer live with always wanting and loving her while only being friends. He needed so much more, and it was time to find out if that were even possible. Which he’d do tonight.

Why are you really here? he asked.

She glanced back at him, her eyes narrowing.

I don’t believe I shall tell you because I’m certain you will laugh. She sniffed and walked closer to the well.

Wesley placed a hand over his heart. I promise that I will not. On that you have my word. And he certainly hoped he wasn’t making a promise that he could not keep. Life with Miranda would be wonderful and whimsical as she searched for magic and what lay beyond her imagination, while he remained grounded in reality. However, she needed to accept his suit before that could happen, and Wesley still feared that she would only accept him as a friend.

As much as Miranda wished to spend as much time as possible with Lord Epworth, she didn’t dare tell him the truth as to why she’d come to this clearing.

After Miranda had learned that his opinion of her had been that of a feather-brained, odd miss, she’d tamped down her utter fascination for ghosts. She never denied that she believed in ghosts, because she did, whole-heartedly, and the two of them had argued over the existence of anything magical or other-worldly several times. However, their disagreements weren’t so strong as to alter their friendship. However, if he knew why she was truly in this clearing, by this well, he might begin thinking her feather-brained again and Miranda feared losing his friendship.

Friendship! That’s all she was to Epworth, a friend.

Oh, why couldn’t he see her as anything more? As far as Miranda was concerned, Epworth was nearly perfect with his blond hair and blue eyes, sculptured features and just the perfect height of being a head taller than her. Further, he was kind and an enjoyable companion, someone she nearly trusted completely.

Epworth was perfect. Perfect for her and he was her friend.

Though she continued to be careful not to let Epworth know how badly she wished to encounter a ghost, it was impossible to ignore the opportunity to do so at Castle Keyvnor and the very reason she’d snuck away from everyone following the wedding. If rumors were to be believed, the castle was brimming with ghosts and it had been her intention to find one—just one—during the week of wedding festivities, but so far, they’d been elusive.

As elusive as Epworth’s love.

Are you going to tell me? he asked, a blond eyebrow hitched as he waited for her answer. "Why is it so magical?"

The well. Her cheeks grew hotter as she gestured to the weathered bricks, but she’d not shy away from what she believed.

At that he frowned and pointed. That well?

"Yes, this well." She neared the crumbling structure, which she suspected remained standing only because of the vining flowers that grew about it, like string holding together the broken pieces.

Is this a special well?

If you must know, it’s a wishing well. Miranda made light of the rumor so he didn’t suspect that she believed with all her heart that any wish could be granted.

Epworth bit his bottom lip as if he were trying to contain his reaction, as he promised.

It holds a water nymph and if an offering is made, wishes will be granted, she confided in a teasing whisper, though her heart beat a rapid tattoo of hope that it could provide one of her fondest wishes.

Epworth dipped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ghosts, pixies, mermaids and now water nymphs. None of it logical, he mumbled more to himself before he lifted his chin to look at Miranda. Did you bring a coin? he finally asked.

You don’t throw coins into this well. Miranda pulled a ribbon from her hair.

I don’t understand. Epworth stepped forward. Then what do you wish with?

The nymph, nor the well, has any use for money, she answered with authority. I’m offering a favorite ribbon that I wore today specifically for this purpose. The nymph may offer it to the pixies or keep it for herself.

Pixies?

Yes, pixies, the same ones who decorated for the wedding.

I thought those were gardeners.

Miranda rolled her eyes. Even the best gardeners in all of England could not have created such beauty. They’d argued these points several times and no matter what she believed in her heart, Epworth found the possibility illogical.

If you insist.

Blast! He was humoring her again and she’d not have it. Oh, why couldn’t Epworth just once entertain the possibility that magic existed and not everything needed to be logical.

One of the many things Miranda admired about Epworth was his intelligence. If he wasn’t the heir to a dukedom, he would spend his days perhaps as a fellow or professor surrounded by books and taking in lectures at the Royal Society of London. At least, that is what he’d shared with her when they had discussed what they’d want if given a choice in life. But other than attending the Season, Epworth was unable to spend as much time in London as he wished since he was required to be at Forester Hall, preparing for a life already chosen for him.

It must be horrible for you, Miranda said after a bit of thought.

He frowned as his eyebrows formed a V between those warm blue eyes.

Not to see magic. Simply to accept that the world is as you see it, and what has been proven and disproven simply because a scholar has claimed it to be so.

I prefer to live in reality, not fantasy.

Miranda pursed her lips and studied his handsome face. No matter how much they’d argued the possibilities, she could never understand how Epworth could be so blind to what was obvious to others. Even after a week at the castle, you’ve not seen, heard or felt a ghost? She’d been certain that in time, he’d experience something even though the ghosts were too stubborn to appear to her.

Others insist they have. Of course, it’s the power of influence. Such as a chill in a room when it has nothing to do with an entity but the fact that it’s an ancient castle, made of stone.

Of course, that was the logical answer. Miranda sighed with disappointment. Not only for him, but herself as well. Perhaps he was correct, but she’d heard so many stories. And Uncle Jonathan assured her that the castle was bursting with ghosts. Had he only been telling her tales?

I’ll be honest, she finally said. I was hoping to encounter one ghost this week, but apparently it is not to be.

And you are here to wish for one? A teasing light danced in his eyes.

At least he wasn’t laughing at her. They may disagree, but at least he accepted her, and it was one of the reasons that she loved him.

Miranda lifted her chin. Yes, I am. I wish to prove to you that they are real.

I eagerly await to be proven wrong. Epworth gave a slight bow.

Very well. Miranda held the lavender ribbon above the well. I wish to encounter one ghost. Then she let it drop into the abyss and dusted her hands as if it were done.

As much as she hoped for an encounter, Miranda wasn’t confident that the well could provide what she wished. But she’d rather live in a world of magical possibilities than like Epworth, who only believed what he could see.

Epworth stood still and glanced around, as did she.

Nothing.

Oh well, it was certainly worth the chance,