“Oh God,” said Alice. “Oh, sir, it’s a lie.”

“Of course it is.” He grinned. “But who will believe you? But if you are a sensible girl and do as I tell you, we’ll say no more about it.”

He suddenly reached out and hooked his finger in the ragged bodice of her dress and pulled her up against him. “Now,” he said harshly, fumbling with his other hand at the flap of his trousers.

“Oh, ghost!” cried Alice in her mind. “Please come. Help me!”

She wrenched and struggled and Mr. Bessant drew back and struck her on the mouth with one hand and clubbed her over the side of the head with the other. The blow made her feel sick and faint and, as she reeled trying to regain her balance, he caught her in his arms.

“What the devil is going on here? Zooks! A rape!”

Alice gave a gasp of relief and Mr. Bessant abruptly released her and stared at the vision facing him, his eyes popping. The Duke was wearing his gold coat and his powdered wig and all his jewels. He slowly drew out his sword by its jeweled handle and pressed the point of it to the shaking Groom of the Chambers’ throat.

“Unhand the wench and get thee gone or I will split thy gizzard, thou foul lump of carrion,” said the Duke in measured tones.

“Avaunt thee Satan!” cried Mr. Bessant, making the sign of the cross. Now, that was supposed to work when faced with the supernatural, but this ghost had obviously not read the right books and the sword point never wavered.

Mr. Bessant backed toward the door, white and trembling. “You’ll burn for this piece of devilry, Alice Lovesey. You’ll burn,” he whispered and then he ran from the room.

“Now why didn’t he think I was his master?” said the ghost peevishly. “I am uncommonly like the present Duke, think you?”

“No,” said Alice bitterly. “The present Duke would not have rescued me. And your clothes! You are wearing the same clothes as in your portrait. They will kill me.”

There came a great clamor and uproar from below stairs. “Yes,” said the Duke thoughtfully. “I think they will. How tedious. Let us go. I shall hide you.”

Alice put her hand in his and he led the way out of the banqueting hall at a leisurely pace. Alice cringed against him as a party of servants appeared at the bottom of the grand staircase, brandishing knives and clubs and torches. The Duke looked down at them dispassionately. Then he stretched out his arms. “Booo!” he said.

The servants screamed in fear and scattered. Until that moment not one of them had believed Bessant’s story about a ghost, believing instead that there was some masquerader loose in the Hall.