Wanted: Ghost-Busting Bride Read online

  “I’ve set out your dress for the opening tea.” Her hostess motioned to the old chest sitting at the foot of the canopy bed. “The rest of the clothes Crystal sent for you are in this trunk.”

  “Thank you,” Kailyn managed.

  “One of the staff will bring up your suitcase and park your car. I’ve delayed the opening tea for your arrival, so please hurry.”

  As the door closed, Kailyn held up the frilly green gown.

  Crystal had to be kidding. The unbelievably ugly thing had puffy roses stuck all over it. Stiff lace poked out of every edge. Oh, her friend would pay for this. So would John and Markham if she could figure out a way to get back at them without risking the job.

  She lifted the heavy eyesore over her head and tugged it into place. No matter which way she pulled or pushed, the stiff fabric fluffed out. She’d walked into the castle as a modern professional in a tailored suit. Now, thanks to Crystal, she’d turned into a freaking rosebush. Refusing to do any primping to her hair or make-up, she rushed out of the room.

  This job had better be worth the embarrassment.

  She stepped off the main staircase, turned to the right and entered the noisy parlor. The second she walked through the doorway, Lady Sedgewick clapped her hands. “Ladies, your attention please. We will review the schedule of the week’s activities as soon as Miss Baker finds a seat.”

  Twenty women turned to frown at her. Not a welcoming group. She spotted a partially-empty sofa in the back row. But when she approached, the occupant scowled.

  “You can’t sit here. My dress will wrinkle.”

  Whew. Tough crowd. She glanced down the two rows of mismatched chairs and sofas. Colorful gowns covered every surface.

  Her stomach lurched. From their reactions, these women were her competition, but why? They couldn’t all be engineers wanting to renovate the castle with Markham, could they? She glanced down at her dress. In this group of fashionistas she was the un-pruned shrub. She sure hoped Markham didn’t pick his next engineer based on a costume.

  She inched her way toward a drafty window.

  When she reached the end of the row, a woman in pink lace touched her arm. “Do sit here.”

  Relieved, Kailyn mashed her bulky skirt flat and eased onto a threadbare sofa. “Thanks. I’m Kailyn Baker.”

  “Allison Lloyd.” A sympathetic smile welcomed her. “You look a tad frazzled.”

  “It’s just the long flight and the change of time zones,” Kailyn lied. No way would she admit to being conned into attending this tea party. “I see you’re reading a physics journal. Are you here to apply for a job at Markham and Martin?”

  “Not yet. I just brought the journal to review the latest studies on the Ryne Castle ghosts. I hope to work for Markham after I finish my degree next year.”

  How strange. Something didn’t add up. Why the silly ghost comments and why were all these women here? What had Markham said about the festival? Had he said something about women coming to play countess? Surely this wasn’t some kind of etiquette course for royal hopefuls? Crystal was dead!

  She glanced around the room for cameramen. Maybe she’d stumbled into a British reality TV show. Relieved she didn’t spot any, she turned her attention to Lady Sedgewick.

  Her hostess rattled off a confusing list of old-fashioned activities for the first day.

  Kailyn scribbled the events on a scrap of paper. What a nightmare. How was she going to survive surly women, stupid costumes and tedious performances? Were they going to be graded or scored?

  “The prize for each event is a chat with the Earl.” Lady Sedgewick nodded at her as if she was the only woman in the room.

  Uh-oh. She’d have to win these ridiculous games to get more interview time with Markham. Such a silly way to find competent employees.

  She leaned close to Allison. “What’s your opinion of the earl?”

  “Young, handsome and successful. He has dazzled the world with his architecture. Not an old fogy, like the rest of the men who hold titles.”

  Why on earth would Crystal, John and Markham himself conspire to trap her in this horror? Markham said she had to fall in love with Ryne. Did he mean the castle or the man? This was downright scary.

  Chatter broke through her astonishment.

  “I heard the Earl prefers brunettes, so I suffered through a complete makeover. He’s sure to notice my chestnut hair. Don’t you think my brown contacts are sexy?” A dark-haired beauty directly in front of her stuck out her chest and wiggled it. “And these babies will seal the deal.”

  Markham was too good-looking to need this kind of event to meet women. Kailyn nudged Allison and nodded her head at the braggart. “Who is she?”

  “Opal Roderick,” Allison whispered. “An excellent equestrienne. Her ambition is to marry the Earl. She wants to manage the famous Ryne breeding program.”

  Marry? So the women here did hope to become the next countess. Why couldn’t the architect simply choose a bride like a normal person? She stared at Opal. What was wrong with Markham that he’d stoop to a competition for a wife?

  A bleached-blonde turned to confront Opal. “Well, I’ve taken lessons in that old card game, piquet. I’ll have an hour to flirt with the earl after I trounce the rest of you. I’m sure his lordship will propose to me by the ball.”

  “That’s Helena Seaton,” Allison whispered to Kailyn from behind the physics journal. “A flirty gold-digger. I doubt the earl will fall for her card ploy.”

  Yikes. What had Crystal’s double-dealing gotten her into?

  As Kailyn began to plot an escape, an older, more sophisticated brunette peered down her nose at the two other women. “Rumor has it the earl doesn’t choose his bride. The Ryne ghost presents four gifts to the woman she selects as the next countess.”

  Kailyn lightly pounded the side of her head with the palm of her hand. This had to be an alternate universe, and she was the sole sane one in the bunch. At thirty, she was one of the oldest women in the room. And apparently the only one not looking for a husband.

  Not even Allison seemed to notice her reaction. They were too busy speculating about the Earl.

  A lousy picture formed in her mind. The sparking green lights from her phone had started this hoax, and the attacking chair had sealed her fate. Markham believed his nonexistent ghost had singled her out to be his prospective bride.

  The man was crazy. While an exploding balsa-wood model was fun, this ghost business went too far. He might be her idea of a handsome rogue, but she wasn’t competing to marry him. Eight years of slaving to pay for her engineering degree wouldn’t end in marriage. Her education was supposed to provide her independence, not lure her into a romance. Besides, she’d never met a man whose ego could tolerate a driven career woman.

  Spencer Markham could forget her falling in love with Ryne. She wasn’t interested. Love just brought pain. It was bad enough her father had died suddenly when she was twelve. But her mother’s prolonged illness and early death last year had left deep scars on her sisters and her. For years she’d worked to advance her career and not be sidetracked by romance. Getting entangled with Markham would lead to heartache.

  Lady Sedgewick was wrapping up her speech. “We will gather in the drawing room for drinks at eight. Don’t tarry over changing for dinner. You want to make a good first impression.”

  Kailyn gathered up her skirt, ready to race out of the room. However, one of the lacy frills caught in the sofa. By the time she’d tugged it free, Lady Sedgewick had stepped up to Allison.

  “Lady Allison, a bit of a tangle has forced me to move you. I’ve given you the east turret room.”

  Kailyn glanced in surprise at her new friend. Did all these women have titles? A pretty pout covered Allison’s face. “But it’s so far from the others. How will I chat with Emily?”

  “Allison can have my room,” Kailyn immediately offered. At least she’d escape from all those dreadful fairies.

  Lady Sedgewick checked her notebook. “Sple
ndid.”

  Before Kailyn could slip away, Allison hugged her. “I can’t understand why you offered to sleep in the tiny garret. But thank you.”

  She shrugged off the gratitude. “You might not thank me once you see the room. It’s filled with perverted fairies.”

  Forgetting any propriety, she marched off toward Markham’s office. Boldly she flung open his scratched door.

  Markham swung his chair around. “I had the oddest feeling you would charge in here. Are the festivities too unsettling for you?”

  The scoundrel certainly looked every bit the earl. He even thought he could dazzle her with his charm.

  She wasn’t going to listen to her fluttering heart. The chiseled planes of his face wouldn’t sway her. She would ignore her impulse to run her fingers through his dark hair. And those mischievous green eyes would have to twinkle at someone else. Determined, she set her jaw. His good looks wouldn’t distract her from hightailing it back to Dallas.

  But man-oh-man was she in trouble. His costume showed off every fit inch of him. The tight, blue evening coat made his shoulders seem a mile wide. The fancy white cravat made his grin even more dangerous. No way would she ever trust his impish green eyes.

  Slowly her gaze drifted down the silver waistcoat and snug, soft gray breeches. Okay. He earned a ten for mouthwatering sex appeal, but a zero for his lowdown collusion with Crystal.

  “You can’t possibly make me believe you’re this desperate to find a wife. Twenty strange women in a dating game? Come on. And what’s with spreading a rumor about a ghostly judge? Have you gone insane?” Her voiced cracked, but she refused to blink.

  Markham rose and moved toward her. “I’m not crazy.”

  He held up his hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “For five hundred years, my ancestor Lady Anne has interfered with the earl’s affairs. It’s a Ryne tradition. Earls who defy the ghost’s demands face disaster, bankruptcy or death.”

  “What have you been smoking?” She planted her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “The problems with my equipment had nothing to do with a ghost. Ghosts don’t exist. And even if they did, only a fool would follow their dictates.”

  Markham acted as if she hadn’t even spoken. “Lady Anne will present you with four gifts to announce your selection. After you perform a task for Ryne, I must offer you marriage. The dang ghost won’t leave us alone until we’re wed. We’re cursed.”

  “You may be cursed,” Kailyn muttered under her breath, “but it’s the curse of mental illness.” When she married-if she married-no ghost would pick her husband.

  He leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “How much is a structural engineering job at Markham and Martin worth to you?”

  “Not as much as when I arrived. Why?” She studied the man she’d hoped would be her employer. His expression gave little away except that all the joviality had disappeared from his features.

  “Let me remind you of our deal. You stay the week at the castle and take part in the festivities. In return, I guarantee you a job with the firm.”

  “I find it difficult to believe that your firm will hire me just for staying here a week.” She chewed her lip in indecision, wondering whether she could trust him. “What’s the catch?”

  Markham moved to block the door. “If you can prove the ghost doesn’t exist, you return to Dallas and accept John’s engineering position. You can begin your new job at the end of the week. If the ghost presents you with the four signs, you will stay here until you complete the task.”

  “What task?” she asked warily.

  “Recovering Ryne’s treasure.”

  “What kind of treasure?”

  “All of the Ryne valuables that disappeared during World War Two. They are reputed to be hidden somewhere in the castle.”

  Excitement then disappointment raced through her. A treasure hunt sounded fun, but what then? Even if she found the loot, she still wanted an engineering job afterward, not simply a redecorating gig.

  And what was this idea of her becoming countess, anyway? It was preposterous, entirely ridiculous. What did she know of British society?

  Then there was Markham. He’d probably turn out like the other intelligent, successful men she’d dated a few times. They had shown interest in her until the subject of her career surfaced. As soon as she chose work over a date, they dropped her.

  Besides, if she wanted to marry—which she didn’t—love was essential. Markhan didn’t even know her. He was simply following ghostly orders.

  “You can’t possibly want to marry me. All the women in my family die early. My sister Claire is only thirty-eight, and her health is already deteriorating.”

  “I’ll take my chances. If everything works out, your family’s health issues will be eliminated.”

  His words sounded sincere, but why did he look excited by her dire predictions? He must be so wrapped up in his fantasy world that he couldn’t think rationally. Her mother had tried every medical and herbal remedy available. She’d still died before the age of forty. Even with the latest scientific advances, no doctor had been able to find a cause or a cure for Claire’s declining health. “What if I don’t accept?”

  “You won’t ever work for Markham and Martin.” Markham’s voice turned soft and deadly. “And as much as I’d hate to use my connections to hurt your career, I’ll discourage any major architects from hiring you. Too much is at stake for Ryne.”

  Holy crap. The man really bought into the ghost nonsense.

  And he’d left her no choice. She had to stay the week and prove the ghost didn’t exist or lose the career she’d worked so hard to build.

  Would it be safe to stay? His strong magnetism might suck her into his delusions. “What about your duty to marry the ghost’s choice?”

  His eyes held hers in a lethal challenge. “No one can force you into marriage, but if you’re the one Lady Anne chooses, I won’t deny that I intend to shower you with every amorous trick in my arsenal.”

  Chapter 3

  Just as Spencer was starting to relax later that afternoon, Aunt Sophie strolled into his office. “Quit hiding. It’s time for drinks with our guests.”

  “What do you know about Kailyn Baker?” Spencer held up a packet of Crystal’s correspondence and shook it in front of his aunt’s face. “You and Crystal Martin obviously cooked up something. I wish you would have warned me. Kailyn’s not the least bit happy to be here.”

  “What’s happened?” A triumphant expression spread across Aunt Sophie’s face as she leaned over his desk. “Tell me. Have you seen Lady Anne?”

  No doubt his aggravating aunt relished the idea that her conniving with Crystal had been successful. So he indulged her.

  “Indeed. Following a nasty case of ghost pimples, I ordered my pesky ancestor to appear.” He sagged back against his chair. “But I have a huge problem. The bloody ghost wants a love match with Kailyn Baker—yesterday.”

  His aunt gave him her best pitiful, everything-is-in-your-hands look. “Winning her love might be difficult, but you have no choice. If you fail to do Lady Anne’s bidding, your sister and I won’t have a place to live. Ryne Castle will go to the National Trust.”

  “Reminding me of my duty isn’t helpful right now, Aunt Sophie.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “My task is impossible. Crystal didn’t tell Kailyn anything about the ghost or the house party. I had to threaten Kailyn to keep her here for a week. Even worse, she’s not interested in marriage and doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

  “Any woman worth marrying is worth fighting for.” Sophie’s gray eyes twinkled. She stepped around the desk and tugged him out of his chair.

  Reluctantly he allowed her to pull him out the door. The fighting part was easy. It was the loving part that had him stumped.

  He followed Aunt Sophie into a parlor full of plastic pastel beauties who quickly swarmed around him. Too bad he wasn’t still Spencer Markham, the second son of the earl. Then none of these insipid c
reatures would bother to say hello. They certainly wouldn’t be tripping over each other to reach him.

  Of course, the one woman he needed wasn’t present. When Kailyn finally swept into the crowded room, he chuckled.

  Thousands of gold beads dangled from a downright ugly purple dress. She certainly stood out as a non-conformist in this fashion-conscious group. He dodged two women and skirted another group of chattering females before he reached Kailyn’s side. Ready to pour on the charm, he stopped in front of her. “Your gown is the most unusual I’ve seen.”

  Kailyn raised her chin and glared at him. “Don’t blame me. Our sneaky friend Crystal designed a trunk full of torturous costumes. Do you think I’d appear in public in this dress if I had any other choice?”

  He spread his hands out, palms up. “I’m sorry Crystal and my Aunt Sophie conspired against us. I had no idea today’s interview was a setup.”

  Fists on her hips, Kailyn tapped her toe. “Let me see. You’re John Martin’s partner, and Crystal is your company’s HR director. Do you honestly expect me to believe they fooled you into a fake interview?”

  Damn right he’d been bamboozled. He wouldn’t be in this mess if they’d consulted with him. Her blue eyes blazed. He ignored her temper and casually tugged at one of the many gold beads on her shoulder. “How long have you known Crystal?”

  Kailyn brushed away his hand, but her insulted expression gave way to a rueful grin. “Long enough to recognize Crystal’s meddling. Mind you, I don’t think you and John are innocent.”

  Sighing, she glanced around. “I should have figured it out. It seemed strange for John to send me to London. The side trip to Ryne Castle should have been a dead giveaway, but I was too frazzled by the drive to see the scam. Your ghost pranks made me realize I’d been had.”

  Looking at him hopefully, she asked, “Are you feeling guilty enough to give me the job without keeping me here?”