“And is it one of those houses that has a title attached?”

“I think so,” says Suze, sounding uninterested. “ ‘Lord of the Manor.’ ”

“Right.” Alicia delicately wrinkles her brow. “So anyone who owns the house is entitled to call himself ‘Lord.’ ”

“I suppose.” Suze looks vague. “I mean, in our case it doesn’t arise, because Tarkie has this other title anyway.”

The truth is, Tarkie has about six other titles, although Suze is far too modest to bring that up. In fact, she hates talking about this stuff altogether. I, on the other hand, once looked it all up on a website, because I quite fancy being “Lady Brandon of Somewhere.” The titles don’t even cost that much. They’re, like, a few hundred pounds, for something that lasts your whole life. I mean, in a way, why not be Lady Brandon?

(Only then Luke caught me and teased me about it for a week.)

As Suze pops to the loo, I glance at Alicia. Her eyes are distant and thoughtful. And, OK, I know I’m supposed to be channeling Pollyanna, but my brain won’t do it. Instead of thinking, Golly-gosh! I bet Alicia’s a sweetheart, really; maybe we could have milkshakes together, I’m thinking, Huh. What’s she up to now?

Maybe I’m just naturally a negative, suspicious person, I think morosely. Maybe I need therapy before I can get on with Alicia. I have a sudden image of us in couples counseling, being forced to hold each other’s hands, and I let out a strange little snort. Meanwhile, as soon as Suze returns, Alicia resumes quizzing her on Letherby Hall.

“My husband would love to see the place,” she says. “He’s such an Anglophile.”

“He’s welcome to!” Suze rolls her eyes ruefully. “It costs a fortune to run. We’re always trying to think of new ways to make money out of it. You’ll see when you come to stay.”

“Is Alicia coming to stay with you?” I ask, trying to sound as though this is a super-fab idea. “When’s that?”

“We don’t know yet, obviously,” says Suze, her brow darkening as though I’m insensitive even to ask. “We’ll have to wait until everything with Tarkie is cleared up.”

“Great,” I manage. “That sounds perfect.”

I sit for a bit, saying nothing, watching the landscape, thoughts bombing miserably round my brain. I’m getting so tired of my own suspicious mind. I’m supposed to be Pollyanna, I remind myself. Pollyanna. And there’s no reason to be suspicious of Alicia. None.

But, oh God. Alicia has always been up to something, ever since I’ve known her, and I just can’t help wondering what might be in this for her. Suze is so unsuspicious and her guard is down and Alicia knows it….

And then I sit up. Wait a minute. Wilton Merrelle is an Anglophile. A predatory, aggressive Anglophile who decides he wants something and gets it. And here’s Alicia, interrogating Suze about Letherby Hall….What if Wilton Merrelle has decided the next thing he wants is a stately home and a title? What if he wants to be Lord Merrelle of Letherby Hall?