“Chivalrous of you.” Her eyes snapped to his then. And she saw it.
The heat. The barely leashedsomethingbehind his control. Something old and tangled. Something that had lived in him since they were awkward children growing up down the street from each other, throwing stones into ponds. Since she’d tackled him off his pony at age twelve. Something that had absolutely no business being there now while she was dripping in front of him, dress clinging to her skin, breasts pressed against the bodice like an offering to the gods of unfortunate timing.
“Right,” she said quickly, laughing some high-pitched squeak of a thing. “Well. I’ll think about it.”
Alaric blinked. “You’ll…?”
“Think about it,” she said again, unpinning her bonnet and giving him a bright smile that completely failed to hide the color blooming in her cheeks. “It’s a rather big decision, after all. Marriage. Honor. Ghost grandmothers. Quite the proposal package.”
“I’ll wait for your answer, then,” he said quietly, eyes hot and fixed somewhere near her collarbone, before he forced himself to turn away and strode quietly down the hall and out the door.
*
Back in the parlor, where the fire still burned low…
A teacup rattled.The curtains stirred.
“Absolutely not,” said the sharp voice of Celeste Blackwood, newly deceased, arms crossed in spectral indignation as she glared at the spot where Alaric had stood.
“He’s tall, he’s broad, and he still broods like a Byronic poem,” cooed Grandmother Blackwood from the chaise. “What’s not to love?”
“He ruined my azaleas with a slingshot when he was eleven.”
“He said it was a weasel attack.”
“Oh please.”
“I LIKE HIM.”
“I’m dead, not deaf, Alice.”
“Well,” Gran said, hands in her translucent lap, “that went exactly as I hoped.”
“You callthata proposal?” Celeste snapped, flicking rain off her ghostly sleeve with indignation. “He sounded like he was choking on a walnut. Or honor. Or both.”
“Oh hush,” Gran said, standing and floating an inch above the parlor rug as if offended by the idea of damp wool. “The boy was nervous.”
“He was a disaster, Alice.”
Gran turned with a look. “He’s always been broody. It’s part of the charm.”
“Charm? Please. He looked like he’d rather wrestle a basilisk than admit he’s in love.”
“Because heisin love!” Gran crowed. “Has been since Thea pushed him into the duck pond that summer in Kent. You remember. He came out looking like a drowned fox and swore vengeance and undying devotion.”
“I remember,” Celeste said dryly. “I also remember how he ruined her first Season by scowling at every suitor she so much as looked at. Jealous little beast.”
“Oh, so youdoadmit it was jealousy,” Gran said, smug.
“I admit nothing. Except that I wanted better for her.”
Gran’s eyes gleamed. “You wanted titled.”
“I wantedeasier,” Celeste snapped. “A gentleman who didn’t break into crypts or get into sword fights with grave robbers for his job, or show up dripping in rainwater like some tragic antihero. And what does he do the minute she walks in? Stares at her chest like it owes him money!”
“Oh, come off it, Celeste. You saw the way he looked at her.”
Celeste crossed her arms, translucent and glowing faintly around the edges. “She deserves someone who can say the damn words.”
