Page 145 of Ever After
Lord St Claire chuckles. “I think I said something very similar.” He reaches over and taps the diary. “It is written in exactly the same hand as the rest of the diary, and I would be prepared to bet that if I gave it to a handwriting analyst, they would tell me that it is the same person. Now, how can that be possible?”
“Do you really want to know?”
He considers me and then smiles. “Maybe at a later date, when you are no longer on your honeymoon. You can come for tea and tell me the whole no-doubt-exciting tale. Tarquin spoke of you both in glowing terms and referred to many exciting adventures.”
“I just bet he did.” I brandish the diary. “This is obviously a completely ridiculous demand.”
“Is it?”
“Well, of course it is. You don’t just go around giving seaside cottages to complete strangers.”
“Ah, but I get the feeling you are not a stranger to past members of my family, eh?” He stretches his legs out. “Anyway, I like the idea.”
“What?”
He shoots me a smile. “You sound surprised.”
“Do I? I’m actually thinking you’re a complete mentalist.”
He chuckles. “You might be right, but somehow it feels like the right thing to do. After all, it’s unrentable. And at the end of the day, I’ll probably be a ghost at the hall myself. I don’t want to start eternity with my ancestor’s frightening lover holding a grudge against me.”
“You’d stay there?”
He smiles again. “What better place to live out eternity?”
He slaps his hands on his knees—the English person’s universal sign of impending departure. “Well, I must be going. I’ll get the paperwork drawn up, and the lawyer will contact you.” He offers me his hand. “Welcome to Porthkrogour, Mr Billings.”
“Oh, Blue please,” I say faintly.
He chuckles, and after taking the diary from me, he walks away.
When he’s gone, I sit back in my chair. “Fucking hell,” I breathe which somehow seems to sum up the whole day so far.
I dig my phone out and ring a familiar number. It rings a few times and then it’s connected. “Blue?” Will shouts.
I blink at the screaming in the background. “I see you’re still making friends and influencing people.”
“This fucking ghost group. I’ll be on forty Valium a day by the time I’m thirty-five.”
“That’s very precise.”
“That’s me. Precise.”
I can’t help my grin. “I just wanted to touch base with you.”
“It’s your honeymoon. Aren’t you supposed to be focusing on Levi’s base?”
“Fnarr fnarr. You’re so funny.”
“I do try.” His voice moves away from the line. “Lottie, it’s not a ghost. You stepped on a loose board, and it smacked you in the face.”
“Oh, I do wish I was there,” I say fervently.
“Shouldn’t you be in bliss on your honeymoon?”
“Ah, it’s been a bit of a busman’s honeymoon so far.”
There’s a short silence and then he sighs. “Really?”
