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“Did you create them to punish me? The very bane of my living existence!” Lucian exploded and then slipped on his underwear. His arms flailed as he tried to regain his balance. But Maggie leapt forward and jabbed a finger in his chest, and he hit the disgusting pile of clothing.
“Damn, she’s ruthless,” a woman said with a grin. “I’m Henrietta Courtney, Viscountess Ravenell, and this sour-looking man is my husband, St John Courtney, Viscount Ravenell.”
“He’s dead. Some light skirt caught him down a lane.” Lucian smirked as St John bristled. Henrietta chuckled.
“Do I curtesy?” I asked, unsure, peering at the strangers in front of me.
“To the Dukes and Marquess, yes, but screw formality today,” Henrietta answered with a warm smile.
“Henrietta!” a man bellowed, and Henrietta grinned and shrugged.
“Why the hell am I being plagued in my afterlife?” Lucian roared as he struggled to get out of the dirty clothing.
“That sounds familiar too!” another man said, gazing at Harcourt.
“Maggie, this might be overwhelming, but let me introduce everyone. This is Marquess Blackwood and his wife. Daniel and Sabine Harrington,” Melisandre replied.
“He’s dead, so he can’t be married,” Lucian growled, getting to his feet.
“Oh, I did one better. I impregnated my bride while a ghost!” Daniel responded proudly. His wife sighed and rolled her eyes. Lucian’s mouth dropped open.
“Henrietta and St John have both introduced themselves. Henrietta is Daniel’s sister. Next up, we have Earl Mortimer, Nicolas Pembroke, my husband,” Melisandre continued.
“He’s dead too. I danced on his grave!” Lucian grumbled with a glower.
Nicholas narrowed his eyes, and Lucifer snickered.
“At least you didn’t piss on St Johns, I would have.” Henrietta chuckled, and St John sent her a stern look.
“Missed your sharp tongue, lass.” Lucian grinned.
“You’re a countess?” Maggie asked Melisandre, who shrugged.
“This is the Duke of Windmere, Henry Harcourt and Emile,” Melisandre said, ignoring Lucian.
“Went to his funeral, genuinely mourned his death after what those reprobates put him through,” Lucian interrupted. Harcourt sent Lucian an amused look while Emile giggled.
“We have the Black Duke, known as Duke Monmouth, Tristian Russell and Abigail,” Melisandre introduced the second dour-looking man with a stern glance at Lucian. “And finally, the Earl Torrington, Jeremy DeLacy and his wife, Lavinia.”
“What? They can bugger off. This is my inn to haunt,” Lucian said again without remorse as Maggie whacked his arm.
“Except we’re not dead, you floundering fool, we were given life again,” Nicholas sniped. Lucian stared at him for a few moments, then threw his head back and laughed.
“Did you hear that? Maggie, they were my sibling’s rivals; they’re the same age as me but expect us to believe they are living!”
“Lucian, they look pretty alive to me!” Maggie responded warily as she eyed the twelve people in front of her.
“Maggie, are there working showers upstairs? May I suggest you change? And Lucian also needs to clean up,” Melisandre suggested. “We’ll wait downstairs.”
“Not in my inn; they don’t.” Lucian glared.
“This is my inn!” Maggie shrieked, turning to face him.
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
“Anyone reminded of Oakwood Manor and Sabine?” Daniel asked idly.
