A name flashed on the screen. Riley Ellison—a fellow reporter at the Sanditon Chronicle. Hearing from him at this time of night could only mean one thing. He had a scoop for me.
I turned away from Mom, who was now giving her usual lecture about the dos and don’ts of love potions as if we hadn’t heard it a hundred times. Do follow the directions to a T. Don’t give to anyone with nut allergies. Do use natural ingredients. Don’t mix with other potions. Blah blah.
I read Riley’s message.
You busy?
Not at all. What’s up?
Heard something interesting. Thought I’d pass it along as thanks for your last tip
“Is it Riley?” Jane whispered to avoid drawing Mom’s attention.
I flicked a curious glance her way. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
“Maybe because of that silly grin you’re wearing.” Mischief filled her blue eyes, causing her dimples—the same dimples all the Bennet girls had—to appear.
I smoothed my expression to make sure the dimple on my left cheek wasn’t visible. “I amnotwearing a silly grin. I was just happy to hear from him because he has a lead.”
“There’s nothing wrong with admitting you like him, Lizzy.” She shrugged, making her T-shirt slip off one shoulder so she looked like a runway model for comfort grunge.
“I promise I don’t like Riley like that. And even if I did, it wouldn’t work out because I’m not staying in town. I’m just here until Dad… gets better.” I swallowed past the tightness in my throat. There was no cure for Moonrot—the magical illness that ate at Dad’s health. Everyone who contracted it died. There was nothing to do except enjoy the time we had left with him, which was the real reason I’d left my life in New York last year. With Dad sick, I wasn’t sure anyone would be leaving Austen Heights for a while, least of all me.
My phone buzzed with another message from Riley.
A group of highborn fae are coming to town. The only one I have a name for is Charles Bingley.
My mouth fell open. Why would someone like Charles Bingley come to a tiny town like Austen Heights? He’d earned his fortune as the CEO of a security tech company called Haven Corporation, but he was equally famous in the magical world for his proximity to the royal family.
Do you know where they’re staying or why they're coming?
My phone buzzed again.
No, but I’m sure a journalist as brilliant as you can figure it out.
This could be your chance to find a scoop.
Butterflies took flight in my stomach, and my fingers shook as I responded.
I owe you one.
I have a few ideas on how you can make it up to me ;)
Ignoring his outrageous flirting, I thrust my phone toward Jane.
Her eyes widened as she skimmed the conversation. “What are they coming here for?” she whispered.
“I don’t know, but do you know what this means?” I couldn’t help my wide smile. “If I can find a decent story and show my editor my abilities as a reporter, she might finally ask me to write about something more meaningful than the Austen Heights’ fall festival or the Woodhouse’s charity events.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Jane said.
I pulled out the small notebook I always carried and jotted down the name Charles Bingley. “I would if Maxine would give me a chance. She acts like I’m some girl fresh out of high school instead of a reporter with a master's in journalism from Columbia.” Not that I’d had a chance to prove myself in New York for very long either. With Dad falling ill, I’d come home just a few years after graduation.
Lydia plucked the phone from Jane’s hand. “What are you two talking about?”
“Give that back.” I put my notebook away and tried to grab my cell, but Lydia had already danced away.
“Mom!” Her voice went up at least two decibels. “Lizzy’s friend said highborn fae are coming to Austen Heights! Can you believe it?”
