“Absolutely certain,” Amelia said. “The—”
“Because the Eagle and Child pub down the road has a ghost, and they get so many customers they can’t fit them all in.”
“Oh did you sayghost?” Caleb interjected smoothly. He stepped forward, his hand gliding across Amelia’s back as he went. “Yes, it was a ghost.” The crowd gasped excitedly. “Big fellow, dressed like a Viking.” Rather disappointed murmurssounded. “I mean,king. Like a king.” The murmurs increased in pitch and enthusiasm. Amelia saw Caleb’s eyes light up in the way they always did when he got an opportunity to tell stories.
“Now, I’m no expert,” he said, then paused to look endearingly through his eyelashes, making it clear he was so expert he could afford to be modest about it. Amelia estimated two women and an elderly gentlemen fell in love with him on the spot. “I just have a doctorate in history—”
“Ooh,”the crowd said. Amelia amended her count tofourwomen, one gentleman.
“—and I think what you have here, fine people, is the ghost of King Edward…”
He paused again, and as one the crowd leaned toward him, breathless with enthrallment. Caleb gave them his most wickedly gorgeous smile.
“…the third.”
“Aaah!”The crowd exhaled with delight. Why England’s beloved warrior king should be haunting a rather dingy pub in a remote part of the realm went unexplained. If there was among the villagers even half a heart now not lost to Caleb, it would amaze Amelia.
“We have subdued the royal ghost and sent him back to the other world—” Dissatisfaction rippled through the crowd, and Caleb immediately changed tack. “But he may return at any time! However, I must warn you.” His face became somber, and the crowd stilled, their attention fixed upon him as if he himself were royal. “King Edward did leave just the tiniest bit of mess. As the French could tell you, that’s an unfortunate habit of his. But he did say he’d never seen a more charming pub”—Caleb aimed his smile at the waitress, who twisted herapron so forcefully she nearly yanked it off—“in the most beautiful village of all England!”
Cheers arose from the crowd. Caleb grasped Amelia’s elbow, tugging her forward. “Let’s go,” he urged in a low voice.
“Wait,” Amelia said, tugging back. Reaching into her coat’s inner pocket, she took out a card and presented it to the waitress. “Our apologies. Please send the bill to this address and you will be paid in full.”
The waitress regarded the card with confusion. “The bill? For a tiny mess?”
“Is that Ottersock’s card?” Caleb asked, surprised.
“I always carry them in case of such moments,” Amelia said. “I have several printed off.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow, recognizing the sentence was incomplete. That was the problem with lifelong friends. (Well, that and them becoming suddenly, achingly attractive.) Amelia winced. “Every term,” she admitted.
Caleb laughed. Then the waitress, suspicion growing on her face, drew breath to ask another question—
“Must dash!” Caleb declared, and pulled Amelia away. They wove a path through the crowd, smiling, nodding, and ignoring all questions with the adroitness of teachers. As they emerged, Amelia saw Sergeant Sheffield on the far side of the street, standing to attention beside a—
“Good heavens,” she said. “What is that?”
“That,” Caleb answered in a disbelieving tone, “is a dogcart.”
They eyed the horse-drawn vehicle warily. Dilapidated and clearly never having suffered from being washed, its four-seater body balanced in precarious fashion between two large thin wheels, seemingly reliant on dubious physics and a great deal of wishing from Vanity Tunnicliffe, who sat in one of thebackward-facing seats, surrounded by piles of luggage. Its horse put Amelia in mind of the Hereford teaspoon—ancient, gray, and looking like it too had recently been unearthed from a crypt.
“I’m starting to think Ottersock hired these people to torture us slowly and painfully,” Caleb muttered.
“Oh my God!”
At the sudden shocked cry, they glanced back to see the waitress had opened the pub’s door and discovered Caleb’s interpretation of “the tiniest bit of mess.”
“Hurry,” Caleb hissed, yanking Amelia so abruptly she stumbled. He half dragged her across the road and, before she could chide him, set his hands on her waist and lifted her unceremoniously onto the cart’s rear footplate. Amelia rearranged luggage until she was able to sit beside Vanity with a suitcase on her lap and another beneath her feet.
The young woman giggled. “Isn’t this a fun adventure?”
“Hm,” Amelia said so tonelessly, her family would have been proud.
Caleb was clambering into the seat behind Amelia, facing forward. “Go, go, go!” he urged Sheffield. The sergeant made no reply, mounting his own seat and taking up the horse’s reins at such a calm, measured pace Amelia could practically feel Caleb’s nerves vibrating. Flicking the reins expertly, Sheffield set the horse into a trudging walk.
“Stop those people!”came a furious shout from the waitress.
“Go!” Caleb reiterated to Sheffield, pointing along the street as if this would in some way help. In response, Sheffield flicked the reins again. The horse walked 0.05 percent of a mile faster.
