“So did we as lads.”
“We did enjoy a good scare. But such things are easily explained in a poorly lit, drafty old castle. I will admit that it is harder to explain them lately.”
“A remarkable concession for you, sir.” Hugh tapped the desk. “So. Invite Edgar here in a sincere effort to dispel the haunts. We will verify his visit with a notarized letter to satisfy the buyer.”
“Does Edgar have the stamina for ghosts? He never liked them. His story surprised me in that regard.”
“Stamina! He was two years in the Black Watch, and would still be there but for the leg injury. But he is well suited to the law and writing, and surely can advise you on hauntings.”
“Good.” As a lieutenant in the 42nd Highland Regiment of Foot, which some called the Black Watch, Gavin had come away with a cracked pate that had altered his life for a few years. Herubbed his fingers over the scar under his dark hair. Catching Hugh’s concerned look, he stopped.
“Otherwise, I could open the property to tourists. Some are turning their estates into hotels and doing well, I hear.”
“The offer comes from a man who would do just that,” Hugh said.
“I would rather do that myself than hand it over to a stranger. Will you take a message to Edgar when you return to Edinburgh? Tell him he can have the run of the place to stomp about, chant, dance around a bonfire, whatever helps.”
“Then you can sell the place and be done with it.”
“I suppose so.” He sighed, thinking of ghosts, the Braemore curse, and five hundred years ending soon. Whether superstition or caution, that was his reason to sell.
Yet he wished there was some way to keep Braemore and bring peace to its walls.
Chapter Two
Gavin Stewart!CousinHugh’s message set Elinor’s heart to pounding. Catching her breath, she focused on the conversation.
“Not the hauntings again,” Edgar was saying. “Last time we were there, what I heard gave me shivers. Sorry, Elinor. Thoughtless of me.”
She shrugged. “I recall you saw something disturbing. The Gray Lady?”
“Moans coming from the pit in the old tower. So Gavin wants something done about it?” Edgar looked at Hugh, who had joined them for tea in the parlor of their Edinburgh home.
“Aye, he read Edgar’s ghostly tale and wonders if there might be a solution. The problem is rather urgent,” Hugh said.
“Such things stir up close to Halloween,” Elinor said. “The veil between our world and the spirit realm can become very thin this time of year.”
“Interesting,” Hugh said uncertainly.
“If it can wait a week, I would be glad to go,” Edgar said. “Just now I am awash in legal documents to draft.”
Elinor drew a breath, sat straighter. “I could go.”
“Are you sure?” her brother asked. Hugh, porcelain cup raised to his lips, looked from one twin to the other in silence.
“Sir Gavin and I are capable of civility. If it is urgent, someone should go.”
“If it is ghosts and boggarts,” Edgar said, “you are eager to go.”
She tilted her head. “I might be helpful.”
“True. Hugh, regarding ghosts, I must defer to my sister. I did not write those stories. Elinor did.”
Hugh laughed. “Truly, I am not surprised. Both of you should go, if possible.”
“I can do that,” she said, heart pounding. “But Samhain is tomorrow. This must happen by then.”
“Sow-who?” Hugh raised a brow.
