"Neither you or your maid are allowed in the East Wing. Under no circumstances should you wander to that side of the manor. If you're found there, Mistress Bethany will dispatch you home with all haste. Do you understand, Miss Fawson?"

Victoria's mouth fell agape. The Maitlands were hiding something. Determination to find out what surged like fire in her veins—she was her father's daughter after all—she'd search the household from top to bottom after everyone retired.

Silently cursing her thoughts, she shook them from her mind. What was she thinking? Sneaking around after dark would be the best way for Bethany Maitland to boot Victoria out before she found out what happened to her father.

Victoria nodded. "I understand perfectly." She tapped her chin with a finger. "But I fear curiosity is getting the better of me, and I cannot help but wonder what's in the East Wing."

"It's the rules of the house set by the Master, himself. He's most adamant about people going there. I, for one, would like to keep my position, which is why I don't break the rules." The servant slid closer, her voice still hushed. "It's rumored there is a ghost haunting that section of the manor. A few months back a maid ventured into the East Wing and..." Mrs. White's gaze flickered between Victoria and Francine. "Disappeared."

Francine hitched a breath and covered her mouth, muttering something in French.

Victoria fought the urge to laugh. The attempt to frighten them was so blatant not a single hair rose on her arm. "Thank you for the warning. I'll be certain not to wander that way." She folded her hands. "But why would a ghost haunt the East Wing?"

"With good reason," Mrs. White continued. "The late Master of Maitland Manor, the eldest brother, Justin, perished in a fire there. Some believe his spirit still remains."

Victoria's breath caught, a prickle of awareness touching her neck. Mrs. White's wide eyes and the excitement in her voice led Victoria to assume the middle-aged woman was one of the believers.

Impossible.

"What keeps him here?" Victoria asked.

"His music."

Victoria arched an eyebrow. "Music?"

"Yes. Sometimes late at night, you can hear him playing the organ. Yet, there isn't an organ in any of the rooms." Mrs. White shook her head, her salt and pepper bun bobbing. "The poor man died so young and before he finished any of his requiems."

"What age was he when he passed on?"

"He hadn't reached his thirty-second year, I'm afraid."

"Oh, that is unfortunate." Thoughts of her own mother's untimely demise floated through her head. Her mother died giving birth to Victoria's younger brother, and they both died that day.

Mrs. White hurried to the door. "I have a few errands to run now. Feel free to make yourself at home. Look around the estate and familiarize yourself with everything." She paused and wagged her finger at Victoria. "Except for the East Wing."

"I will. Thank you again for the warning."

The older woman swept out the door, Victoria had the impression Mrs. White was always in a rush. Victoria rubbed her forehead. Strange. Everything, so far since she'd arrived, had been very strange.

Francine closed the door, leaned against it, and released a heavy sigh. "Oh, my. Do you really think—"

"No, I don't," Victoria said firmly. "Francine, you can't possibly believe in ghosts."

"Why, yes, I do."

"Well, I don't, but for some reason, the Maitlands don't want anyone going to the East Wing."

"Perhaps." Francine wrung her hands against her middle. "Do you want me to unpack for you now?"

"No. I'd like to lie down before Mr. Jonathan returns from riding."

According to Mrs. White, she'd have a few hours, although Victoria feared her thoughts would keep her awake. "I have much on my mind and I need peace and quiet."

"As you wish, Mademoiselle." Francine spun on her heels and opened the door. "I'll be in the next room if you need me."

"Francine," Victoria stopped her, raising her hand. "Please cease referring to me as Mademoiselle. Just call me Miss Victoria. All right?"

The other woman nodded, then left.

Victoria walked to her own bed and sat. She untied the ribbon below her chin, loosened the bonnet, and removed it. When her head touched the pillow, her mind swam with anticipation, just as she'd expected. Resting was out of the question now.

Sighing, she pushed off the bed and left the room, wandering slowly up the hallway toward the stairs. She admired the paintings lining the walls, some were portraits, but most were scenes of nature, of animals, even biblical scenes and heaven. Victoria stopped many times to gaze upon the magnificence of the works. No name graced the painting's bottom left corner, but whoever the anonymous artist had been, his talent shone in every stroke of the brush.

When she reached the third floor, she peeked in every open room. Even those with closed doors. She casually glanced inside, trying not to appear obvious in her search. She found a library, a den, and another parlor. Noticing the room with a pianoforte, she paused.

Memories from years past washed over her like waves on an unsettled sea. Images of her father standing beside the pianoforte as she played a simple children's song filled her head.

She walked closer to the instrument. Brushing her fingers across the keys, she closed her eyes. Too bad she couldn't remember how to play. If only she could, her childhood memories would come to life again, her spirit would soar and she would be filled with the want to dance and twirl. Life had been so carefree back then. She missed it greatly.

It didn't take long to finish her self-made tour. Although she tried not to act as if she'd walked toward the East Wing on purpose, she studied each door, searching for the entrance to that part of the manor. She must have passed it along the way because she couldn't see how to obtain access.

As she wandered outside, she kept close to the edge of the house. The East Wing loomed before her as gloomy as when she first arrived. She stopped and glanced up toward the window where she'd seen a movement earlier.

The curtains moved again, and she sucked in her breath. Indeed, somebody was there.

** **

Victoria Fawson must leave this place. Now.

He'd heard she would arrive today. Foolish woman. She had no clue what her life would be like as Mrs. Jonathan Maitland.

Justin Maitland dropped the heavy curtain into place and stepped away from the window. He couldn't let her or anyone see him. It was far safer for all if he was never seen again. Dead. A ghost.

By now, his brother's guest would know the rumors. Roderick and his wife had the servants scared out of their skin to even look toward the East Wing.

Just as well. If the rumors didn't frighten them, the truth would.

Justin flopped into his heavily cushioned chair, relaxing his head against the back. He closed his eyes and drew slow breaths, breaking the overwhelming silence. The solitude didn't bother him any longer. Music had become his constant companion. If not for the songs he wrote, there would be little meaning to his life.

A vision of Victoria Fawson, ethereal and lovely, floated before his mind's eye. He'd love to meet her. Peter Fawson had spoken so often of her that Justin felt he knew the girl already. Victoria had been away when Justin had visited her father, and Peter had seemed so upset at the poor timing, Justin wondered if his friend had been trying to arrange a courtship.

Sighing, he pushed his fingers through his hair, plastering the wavy thickness back on his head. Once in a while he gave in to temptation and dreamed of a different life. A life without worries, pain, or grueling nightmares branded in reality. A life with a woman to love...and children.

Justin turned toward the low burning fire. Women like Victoria Fawson could not be permitted to stay at the manor. Victoria was in jeopardy because of her beauty. She was exactly the sort of woman he was easily attracted to. If a meeting had in fact occurred while her father still lived—Justin snorted. His mentor most certainly would have seen his wish come to fruition.

Peter must be desperate to get his daughter married for some reason. Why else would he match her with Justin's younger brother, Jonathan? That young pup didn't have a clue about real life, nor the problems it caused.

Justin rose from his chair and walked into the next room to his bed. Staying awake all night let him live in an existence without complications since everyone else in the manor was asleep. The only time he rested was during the day. He'd need plenty of sleep to finish composing the requiems he'd been working on for a fortnight. His music kept him sane.

He shrugged out of his robe and laid the rich burgundy velvet across the end of the bed before climbing between the sheets. His eyes drifted closed, strains of music running through his mind until a lovely visage interrupted his thoughts.

Victoria Fawson.

The woman's beauty had captured his attention from the moment she'd climbed down from her carriage. Even now he could see the chestnut curls dangling beneath her bonnet surrounding a heart-shaped face and alert eyes. Because he had loved and admired her father, Justin knew he must protect Victoria. He must warn her away from this place. Her life depended on it.

With a grumble, he rolled over and slammed his fist into his pillow. Every aspect of the manor had changed since he was forced to step down as Master. A year ago, he was preparing to kick Roderick and Bethany out on their noses. His brother had been stealing from the coffers, and Justin would not have any more of Roddy's deceitful ways. Justin also wanted to dismiss some of his servants at that time.

Justin had his secretary write the dismissal letters. After the secretary left, that woman came to see Justin. She'd overheard he was going to dismiss her. Begging for affection, she tried everything to get him to change his mind, and when he didn't...

He took a deep breath and rubbed the ache growing in his forehead. Memories of what happened that day brought bile to his throat and his stomach twisted in horror. That was the day he learned about many more secrets residing inside these walls. And now he'd never be completely human again.

Having Victoria on his mind would be disruptive, yet living under his brother's roof would put her very life in peril. Just as all the women who came to court Jonathan.

To save her life, Victoria Fawson must leave. There was no other way.

The "ghost" in the East Wing was more dangerous than people expected. Justin couldn't have strangers coming to ask questions.

There was no ghost, just the beast who haunted Maitland Manor.