Each time Dev opened his mouth, he said something that endeared him to Nory a little bit more. He was impressive in such an unassuming way that she imagined he was constantly underrated. Nory eyed Ameerah, to find Ameerah’s expression mirroring her own curiosity, with something else mixed in. Concern? This man-Barbie was turning out to be dangerously insightful. He clearly had brains and wasn’t afraid to use them—not at all in keeping with Ameerah’s usual type. Earlier in the journey he’d let slip that he was starting an MA in environmental politics and Ameerah had almost lost control of the wheel.

The front walls of the castle were constructed around three square turrets, each containing large leaded casement windows, which glittered black and silver as the winter sun glinted off them. A row of gabled windows ran along the top of the building, once housing the many live-in staff.

They drove slowly down the last stretch of drive, taking in the splendor of the building. The oldest parts of the castle hailed from the medieval period, which were then added to and modified over the centuries as each owner made their mark for posterity. Wings were added and removed, either by design or natural disaster. The structure that greeted them now had not been touched, other than for preservation purposes, since the eighteenth century.

Ameerah pulled up outside the castle, and they climbed out of the car and stretched their legs. A man in a black suit—a butler no less—came out to greet them and told Ameerah that someone would be out in a moment to park her car and bring in their luggage. Nory had to tell her mouth to close itself; already, she was understanding that being a guest at Robinwood was going to be a very different experience from being an honorary staff member.

As they followed the butler through the iron-studded wooden doors, the sound of Jenna’s laugh drifted down into the entrance like an overexcited ghost.

The hall was as Nory remembered it. Above the pale gray wood paneling, rococo-style plasterworks curled along the tops of the walls and up into the ceiling. Chalky white clematis, honeysuckle, and impossibly rambling roses snaked round to form a frame for the semi-naked winged men and women painted in the clouds at the center. Back on the ground, the eye was drawn to the writhing Baroque staircase, which seemed to grow up out of the stone floor and sweep sinuously away, forking left and right at the first landing—Nory knew that each fork would split three times more before it reached the old servants’ quarters. For a relatively small castle, it packed a punch.