Page 38 of Ever After

I jerk. “You know my name?”

A beat of silence drops and then he cocks his head. “Edward mentioned you.”

“Did he?”

“Yes, you are renting Smuggler’s Rest, are you not?”

“Ah yes. Someone did say that was the original name. It’s Gorse Cottage now.”

“It will always be Smuggler’s Rest to me,” he says gravely. There’s a weight and a fierceness to his tone that surprises me. Then he smiles and it vanishes under the charm that clings to him like sunbeams. “It was always a quaint place. Tell me, how do you favour it?”

His speech is strange—a little formal.

“Oh, it’s lovely but a bit creepy. The locals are convinced that it’s haunted.”

“Really?” He sits forward abruptly, startling me. His gaze is set and all the charm is gone. “And what do you think? Do you think it is true?”

“Oh, it’s haunted alright,” I say grimly.

His face goes still and then blazes with some strong emotion I can’t label. “Yes? And have you seen anyone… anything?” His voice is eager and filled with a passionate interest.

“No.” I don’t say anything about Blue and his experiences. That’s private.

“And do you believe in ghosts, Levi?”

I can’t help my laugh. “Yes. I most definitely believe in ghosts.”

He sits back in his chair. His air is casual again, but his attention is intense, like a lighthouse lamp piercing the dark. “You are an interesting person.”

I blink. “Thank you. You too.”

His lip quirks, and then he waves a hand at the bookshelves. “You should read more.”

“Not much time for that lately.” I jump as a book suddenly falls from the top shelf. “Shit.” I crouch to pick it up. It’s a small leatherbound book with gold leaf writing on the cover. I can’t read it in the low light. I open the book and find the pages are full of a bold, slanted handwriting, each entry headed by a date. “It’s a diary,” I say in delight.

I still own Rosalind’s diary. It’s with a university at the moment, taking pride of place in a display about notorious Victorian women murderers. I’d done a lot of research before I granted them leave to use the diary, but I’d been reassured by the fact that they’d cast her as the heroine who’d ended the Devil of York. I think she’d like that.

“Why don’t you take it with you?” Xander suggests.

“What?” I set the diary neatly on a low table. “Oh, no, thank you. I couldn’t possibly.” What sort of tour guide is he, urging me to steal the heirlooms?

“Are you certain? You may be the one person who will find something interesting in the oh-so-turgid prose of the sixth Lord St Claire.”

I hear footsteps and look up when Blue sticks his head around the door. “What are you doing?” he asks, gesturing me over. “We need to go.”

“Why?” I ask, approaching him. “Have you seen something?”

“Only two very bored housemaids and a drunk butler.”

“And were they… Were they dead?”

His lip quirks. “Hope so. Otherwise, they were worryingly see-through.”

“Oh, shut up.”

He laughs. “Come on. There’s a bed with our name on it back at the cottage.”

“And the task?”