“Yes,” he said. “She said something about her return on investment not being sustainable with me.”

“Meaning you were too poor for her,” I said. I felt bluntness was required.

“More accurately, yes,” he said.

“Well, I’m betting she regrets that now,” I said. “Now she’s marrying Dooney, whom I despise on principle. Anyone who could bully Andre has to be a horrible person.”

“Obviously,” he said. “Although this marriage could be a real love match between two shallow, self-interested, vapid people, and if you think about it, they’re saving some innocent souls by marrying each other.”

“That does put a positive spin on it,” I said. We admired the afternoon sunlight on the side of the castle. The breeze that swept through the gardens lifted strands of my hair, teasing the ends. It was a glorious day and, according to the weather forecast, it was going to be a perfect weekend.

“I wish you could stay for the wedding,” I said. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” He paused and then added, “Try not to get into trouble while you’re here.”

“You say that as if I actively look for less-than-desirable situations,” I protested.

“You do have a knack,” he said.

I knew there was no arguing the point. Weirdly, over the past few years, I’d had the misfortune to stumble across a number of dead bodies. I think it was because being an American, I was an outsider and I noticed things that others missed. That’s what I told myself at any rate.

“It’s a wedding. I’ll be fine.” He looked dubious, so I raised my right hand and said, “I promise I won’t get into any untoward predicaments. At least, I’ll try not to.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you might think,” he said.

A frown appeared between his eyebrows and I reached up and massaged it away with my thumb. I leaned in close and kissed him quick.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be too busy checking out the castle from top to bottom as a possible venue for our wedding to think of anything else,” I said. My gaze moved back to the castle walls that seemed to loom over us. “Now go ahead and tell me about its history.”

Harrison’s lips curved up. “Now you’re trying to distract me.”

“Not entirely,” I said. “I really want to know. If we decide to get married here, I don’t want to find out that it’s the scene of a massacre or some other horror. That would be a terrible way to start a marriage, making our vows on top of the graves of the slain.”

“Well, it’s over a thousand years old, so there’s likely some history here that isn’t pretty,” he said.

“Why do you suppose Waverly Castle has survived when so many other castles have fallen to ruin?” I asked.