“There!” She smacked his shoulder. “There, did you hear it just now? And there again.” Yes, he heard it. A light scraping noise that coincided with each slight breeze. “Oh, that,” he said. “That’s just the Mad Duchess.” “The Mad Duchess?” “The resident ghost. Every country house has one.” He made his voice mysterious. “The story is that my great-grandfather took a wife. A bride of convenience, for the purposes of siring an heir. She was pretty enough, but he began to regret the match soon after the honeymoon.”
