A chill skated down Vivian’s spine at the memory of the attack in the dark halls. There was something going on in that house, but whether monster, ghost, or foul-play, it would not sway Vivian from her purpose.

“As you can see, I am in fine spirits and excellent health.”

The postmistress raised an eyebrow. “That may be, but how is your mind? Have odd dreams haunted you at night? Have the drafts and noises stirred you from slumber?”

Vivian sighed. Perhaps next time a servant should mail her letters. “My mind is still alert and sound.”

“And the master? Lord Ashworth? He’s not frightened you with his behavior or terrifying face?”

Terrifying face? Vivian could only think of the roughness of his chin, the sensual curve of his lips, the intensity of his eyes. His scar was a groove upon a spectacular stone, not diminishing its luster but adding to its uniqueness.

“I am perfectly well. Thank you for your concern. Now, a stamp, please.”

“Eh, you’ve only been there a short time.” She reached into a drawer and withdraw the same small stamp Vivian had seen on Lady Wainscott’s letter. “You’ll regret staying in that house, mark my words.”

Vivian slid the coin toward her. “I see no reason why I shall.”