The witch leaned forward on her parasol, her pale white fingers gripping the ebony handle. “Do you drink, Miss Stanton?”
She shook her head. “I do not.”
“What a relief,” the porcelain doll cooed with false sweetness. “We were afraid you and an unfortunate blonde girl who collapsed this morning in Sully’s tavern might have been one and the same.”
Susan’s head swam. They’d been gossiping. Abouther.And it was true! (If not for the reasons they assumed.)
Mr. Forrester’s lips rounded into anO.“That’swhere I saw you.”
Her face flamed.
The two ladies tittered. They’d known precisely who she was—most likely from the moment she’d stepped into the shop—and had chosen this method of revealing their knowledge so as to provide maximum humiliation before a handsome gentleman.
Susan knew this trick well. She hated being on the receiving end of it.
No matter. She would rise above. So long as her name was never again linked to gossip-worthy behavior, talk would quickly die down. In the meantime, she would simply need to appear the veriest paragon of respectability and normalcy.
She opened her mouth to reply before she realized they’d moved on without bothering to wait for her response. They stood in a closed circle, heads bowed together. Short bursts of laughter punctuated their murmured conversation.
Susan stood off to the side.Cut.
They hadn’t even bothered to feign interest in getting to know her.
Susan stepped forward again, piqued enough to interrupt their conversation, despite the rudeness of such an act.
Before she could do so, however, a fifth joined their midst. He entered by floating through the far wall.
The bearded ghost.
There was nowhere to run. The scarecrow could still be outside, waiting for her with his shovel poised behind his head. Even if the scarecrow had crept back home, mere walls would not prevent the bearded ghost from pursuing her.
Of course, whiling away the morning withthistrio was no more palatable.
What she needed to do was get directions back to Moonseed Manor without letting the presence of a ghost in the room cause her to appear distracted (or insane).
“Ho there!” the bearded ghost exclaimed, catching sight of her. He ran a meaty hand over his bald pate and stared at her expectantly. “Don’t you recognize me?”
She didn’t answer.
He hopped up and down in front of her. Careful not to touch her, he waved his hands in front of her face.
Susan ignored him as best she could and tried to determine the best way to catch the others’ attention without flat-out interrupting.
“When did you see him last?” Mr. Forrester was asking.
The porcelain doll rolled her eyes. “One doesn’t keep tabs on one’s grown brother.”
“Especially a will-o’-the-wisp like Joshua.” The witch picked at the spines of her umbrella. “He’s here. He’s gone. And then you wonder if he was ever here at all.”
“Excuse me,” Susan put in when they lapsed into thoughtful silence. “Could one of you direct me to Moonseed Manor?”
“It’s at the top of the cliff,” the witch said, pointing out the obvious.
“Yes, I know, but—”
“Didn’t youcomefrom there?” asked the porcelain doll with an equally amused expression.
“Yes, but I—”
