Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Two weeks later

Wolffe Hall

The Great—Josiah Wolffe, Baron Cudlow—stroked Musgrave Jr., who was sprawled across his bony knees, snoring heroically. The Great looked at each child's excited face. "That is a remarkable tale you've told me, and each time you've given me a new, more potent variation." He pointed his cane at P.C. "You said this time the ghost of Lady Hilda sang to you? What did she sing? Everyone sings, according to you."

Brady punched her arm. "I told you not to tell him she sang. Everyone knows ghosts don't sing."

"She wanted to, I know it, but she had to fight that horrible demon to protect us."

Pip, not to be left out, said, "Sir, she swayed around, all white and flowy, sort of like she was waltzing, so that's close to singing."

Brady's father, George, and his stepmother, Lise Marie, and Grayson and Miranda sat watching this performance. Grayson said, "They're so eager to impress the Great, I'm thinking Lady Hilda just might produce a pitchfork to hurl it at the demon."

"While she sings an aria," Miranda said and laughed.

"True enough," Grayson said, squeezing her hand, "but you know, what's more amazing is that none of them appear to remember what actually happened."

Lise Marie said thoughtfully, "Maybe because Lily is a child too, it's too frightening for them to remember. I wonder if they will ever remember what really happened?"

Old Suggs appeared in the doorway, a large tray in his spindly arms. The children sniffed the cinnamon and sugar and jumped to their feet, raced toward him. The old man grinned, showing his few remaining teeth, and carried the tray to a marquetry table.

George said as he watched the children each take a plate Old Suggs handed them, "It seems to me, Grayson, that no matter where you are, sooner or later, a demon or a ghost or a kelpie arrives. And now an eight-year-old witch." He shook his head. "I will never forget the succubus at Ravenstone."

Grayson pushed a dangling hank of honey-gold hair back behind Miranda's ear, smiled as he watched the children stuff Cook's seed cakes in their mouths, always a favorite. "Nor I, George. I wonder if the succubus found a witch in time before—well, before what? She ceased to exist? Who knows? As far as we know, she had no potion like Prithius.

"Now, while the children are occupied, let me tell you about the letter I received from Max this morning. He writes Lily and Viscount Fielding found one flagon of the demon's potion hidden in the laboratory he'd fashioned in a bedchamber. They took it to a chemist, who was able to identify only one of the ingredients—garlic. The other ingredients he didn't recognize. He asked all his respected colleagues, with the same response. So who knows?

"Max wrote the viscount has no memory of what happened, only that he'd lost three months. Amazingly, he is hale and hearty. He and Lily and Max and Max's mother will be arriving here next week. Viscount Fielding agreed to making Storne Hope their home." Grayson paused a moment, shook his head, smiled. "Max thinks his mother and Viscount Fielding are becoming friends, maybe more in the future."

P.C., ears like a bat, swallowed, called out, "Lily will move here, sir? Really? Oh what fun we'll have! But, Brady, you will not give her more attention than you give to me. You will be pleasant, perhaps let her pet your new puppies, Horatio and Emma, maybe pet your horses, but you will dance only one waltz with her and at least two with me, all right?"

Brady had a mouthful of cake, gave her arm a poke, and solemnly nodded, which made his father smile. The boy had promise.

Pip said, "I'll play rounders with her, P.C. She won't pay Brady any attention at all, I am that good."

Grayson lightly ran his thumb over Miranda's hand, watched her turn to smile at him. He marveled at the vagaries of life, from the unpredictable to the incredible and everything in between.

Later that evening when a sliver of a moon hung low and wind ruffled through the oaks, Grayson sat alone in his study, a lone candle at his elbow, reading once again Max's letter. He knew the bond between Max and Lily would last all their lives. And now they would become part of the fabric of his life.

He remembered what Max had said to him before he'd stepped into his carriage to return to London: "Grayson, can you begin to imagine what will come to pass in the years to come? I am a man blessed."

Grayson rose, picked up the guttering candle, and walked up the shadowed stairs to his bedchamber. As he drifted into sleep, he wondered what demon would find him next.