Read The Lord Who Sneered and Other Tales for Free Online Page B

was a bit taken aback by how sheltered, guarded and cherished it made her feel. It would all be of no consequence after tonight as he would be gone in a matter of hours, most likely never to return. The thought filled her with a fear fargreater than that induced by the ghost and she willed away the tears that started in her eyes.
    When they made it down the stairs with no one the wiser that they were abroad in the night, she sighed her relief. She led him down the hall, through the blackened ballroom that had been a beacon of light only an hour since, and through to the portrait gallery which ran the length of the house. She couldn’t be certain but felt the painting in question was on the far end. Theo held up his candle to inspect the portraits in the case she was wrong and, as they passed each one, Anne’s apprehension grew. What if the face in the painting were the same as the one in the graveyard? The very idea caused a ripple of alarm to run up her spine so that her entire body shivered.
    He drew her closer as if he felt her shuddering, and they made their way down the lengthy gallery. When they reached the end, Anne knew the last painting, a full-length one with a gold frame of a magnificence that surpassed even its enormity, was the one for which they had been looking. Theo held up the candle so that the visage of the man pictured should be plain to both and Anne was instantly gripped with a chill from head to toe. It was, indeed, the same man with the very same long, pointed nose and deep-set eyes under the very same rolled wig, old-fashioned frock coat and buckled shoes.
    “Theo, is it the man you saw?” she whispered.
    “Yes,” he replied in a voice that registered both resignation and a tinge of surprise. “I assume I am not wrong to suppose he is the one you saw, as well?”
    She nodded, too shocked to speak. It was then that the glow of a distant light caught the corner of her eye, and she turned to see a ball of fire advance so slowly towards them that it seemed almost to stand still. She felt Theo’s shock in the arm he had about her shoulders and wordlessly, they watched the ball grow larger and larger until, quite suddenly, it was upon them.
    “I see you have met the infamous Duke,” came a voice from behind the flames, one so dry and thin it took a moment for Anne to recognize it as the Dowager’s.
    “Grandmama!” she cried.
    The Dowager’s face appeared from behind the brace of glowing candles she held aloft as sheturned to view the portrait. “We never did meet in this life. He was my husband’s sire, but he died rather young, just as did his son after him, and my own. They say he walks this house and the grounds beyond, and many have heard him, including myself, I am sorry to say.” She turned to regard them, her eyes black as wells of ink in her skull. “However, he rarely appears and only as a warning at times of great danger,” she said in so ominous a manner that Anne felt herself shiver with apprehension.
    “What are you saying?” Anne asked. “Is someone to die? A person in this house?”
    The Dowager appeared to consider Anne’s question for a bit before she spoke. “It is not as simple as all that. He warns against actions, so much like his own, choices that will lead to any manner of peril. It is said that he atones for the sins of his youth by warning his descendants. As of yet, not one of them has heeded his message.”
    “Does he speak, then?” Theo queried. “What manner of warning does he give?”
    “He never speaks. His appearance is enough. Doubtless, that is why my son the Duke shall take no notice, just as his father and uncles failed to do.”
    “But, how are we to know the warning is for the Duke of Marcross? Can it not be for anyone in the house?” Anne asked. “Does his appearance always presage certain death?”
    “Who is to say?” the Dowager replied with a shrug of her shoulder. “However, he has appeared prior to the death of my husband, each of