Now she was awaiting him again as she had waited so many times before. She rose from the sofa and crossed to the window, looking up hopefully at the steadily darkening sky and at the faraway twinkling of the first star.

She tripped over to the looking glass and patted her hair. All at once, she saw him behind her, his face reflected in the glass.

“I did not think phantoms could see their own image,” she said, without turning round.

“A pox on all phantoms,” said the ghost crossly. “I am tired of these short nights. It is not at all odd to me that I should see myself in the glass.” He swiveled away from her and stared across the room at the open book lying on the sofa. “Novels! I thought as much. You have been reading rubbish.”

Alice swung around, too happy to see him again to be angry with him. “I have ordered a late supper for us,” she said. “I trust you have not dined.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said the Duke nastily. “How can I have dined when I have just materialized?”

“I forget, you see,” said Alice apologetically. “You look so human.”

He nodded his head, accepting the apology as his due. “Your servants will not be pleased at having to serve supper late,” he said, taking a delicately enameled snuffbox from his pocket and opening the lid with a deft twist of his wrist.

“Oh, no, they are quite delighted,” said Alice. “They are so pleased Miss Snapper is gone. I heard the chef tell the butler.”

“Listening to servants’ gossip, Alice?”

“Of course,” said Alice. “I am a servant, remember.”

“No, I will not remember,” he said harshly. “I have gone to considerable pains to establish you as a lady of the ton. But if, in your sheer peasant ingratitude, you prefer to forget it, then that, my dear, is something you will have to overcome.”

Tears started to Alice’s eyes at the cold cruelty of his voice, but the butler was at the doorway announcing dinner.

The Duke imperiously held out his arm and she could do nothing but blink away the tears and try to swallow the lump in her throat.

It was a silent meal, Alice picking at her food and the Duke seemingly totally absorbed in making a hearty meal.

When the servants had at last retired, he looked across the table at her. “I was hungry,” he said.

Alice sighed. “Why does everyone bully me and snap at me so?”

“Because,” said the Duke pouring himself a glass of port, “you have a cringing air about you, Alice, a very emanation of timidity which brings out the beast in people. You are eminently bullyable. You want spirit.”

“How can I change?” wailed Alice.

“Oh, look in your glass,” said the ghost testily. “You are a beautiful woman, Alice. Forget that scullery maid. She is as dead as… as I am.”