This had been the chosen color for every bride we’d designed hats for all season. I had no doubt that Viv had walked away without asking because she knew exactly what color she was going to be dealing with. She was fashion savvy like that.

“I’ll let Viv and Fee know,” I said. “I am positive she will create something amazing.”

Piper rose to her feet. Satisfaction curved her lips in a triumphant smile. “I’m sure she will.”

She strode across the room to the door, where she paused and said, “I’ll be in touch.”

“Cheers,” Andre said through gritted teeth.

“Looking forward to it,” I called and waved until the door shut after her. Then I turned to Andre and hugged him. “This is going to be so great. A castle, Andre! An actual castle.”

He glanced down at me. He wasn’t smiling. “There are probably spiders and rats and an angry ghost residing in the old pile of stones.”

“A ghost?” I asked. “Really?”

“Scarlett, this is England, you know every place has a ghost,” he said. “It’s like a point of pride.”

I thought about the scent of lily of the valley that occasionally appeared in the shop. Both Viv and I had come across it at various times, and it was a scent we associated with Mim, as it had been her signature perfume when she was alive. Did I think she was still here in the hat shop?

Maybe.

“So what if there’s a ghost?” I asked. I was trying to cheer him up. “You’ll have me and Viv to scare away any mean spirits, squash any spiders or catch any rats.” That was a lie. I wasn’t catching any rats or squashing any spiders, but Andre didn’t need to know that. “It’s going to be a wonderful adventure. You’ll see.”

He didn’t look like he believed me. Not one little bit.

Chapter 2

“Ginger, how much luggage could you possibly need for a weekend?” Harry asked. He was trying to wedge my third suitcase into the boot of his car. It wasn’t cooperating.

I gazed at my handsome fiancé with his tousled, wavy brown hair, piercing green eyes, and ruddy cheeks and felt myself get just a little dizzy. Harry was the only person who called me Ginger, because of my hair, and even though he’d done it to annoy me when we first met as kids, now it made me smile.

Harry—I was the only person who called him that for the same reason—let out an exasperated huff, and I sidled up next to him and gazed at him from beneath my lashes in what I hoped was my steamy come-hither look. It tended to make him lose his concentration or at least distract him from whatever I’d done to peeve him. His nostrils flared and I batted my eyelashes.