Page 4 of Ghost Broker (Mercury Raine #1)

L ord Garston’s current ghost, Pearl, and Mrs. Huddleston’s ghost, for whom Mercury did not yet have a name, hovered around the dining room during dinner. The room was large, though, capable of holding many more clients, their ghosts, and a number of Mercury's. Thus, dinner didn't feel crowded.

What it did feel was awkward.

Mrs. Huddleston had been excited to learn that the Duke of Fellington's younger son was at Aventine Manor.

She hadn't stopped regaling the young lord with lists of people she knew that she was certain he did, and gatherings they had both been present at during the previous Season.

Lord Garston was all politeness as he listened and all eagerness when he took over the conversation to offer up the same lists of his own.

If he'd chosen to, Mercury could have claimed a place in Society, one nearly rivaling that of a lord on account of his many ghosts. Even if he’d been willing to take the risk that such a public life would pose, if the interaction between Lord Garston and Mrs. Huddleston was what he’d have to look forward to, he had no intention of ever going to London.

He watched Pearl for a drawn-out moment, finding it odd that she was remaining in such close proximity to her current human attachment.

She had resided at Aventine Manor for a couple of years before being traded to Lord Garston the year before.

She knew that Mercury was not one of those hosts who felt uncomfortable with ghostly guests wandering about and making themselves at home.

And while he found Lord Garston a little obnoxious and exhausting in all the wrong ways, Mercury knew him well enough to know that he wasn't one who grew difficult if his ghostly companion went too far afield. Why, then, was she staying at his side?

Her ghostly eyes flickered a couple of times to the elderly ghost wafting near the wall behind the Huddleston ladies. If he wasn't mistaken, there was outreach in her expression, as if she were hoping to offer her older counterpart a bit of reassurance and friendliness.

Of Mrs. Huddleston, Mercury asked, “Did you and your daughter go to London for the Season last year?”

Mrs. Huddleston's brow pulled tight. “Of course we did. That is what Lord Garston and I have been speaking of these fifteen minutes or more.”

Mercury nodded. “I wasn't certain if all of those occasions were part of only the last Season or if you were speaking of enjoyable evenings spread out over several years.” Truth be told, he hadn't been listening that closely.

Still, it didn't do to admit to a client that she had the ability to drone on in such a way and on such mundane topics that a person feared for his continued mental stability were he to listen too closely.

Mrs. Huddleston launched very quickly into a discussion of the Duke and Duchess of Fellington's apparently very popular ball the year before. Lord Garston puffed up, quite pleased with the praise. Mercury would have had to work quite hard to care even less than he did about the topic.

He'd asked his question for entirely different reasons. He’d wanted to discover if Pearl and this elderly ghost had both been in London at the same time and present at some of the same gatherings.

They had been. Pearl, then, was familiar with this new arrival, and she felt that the older specter needed a bit of looking after.

That was exceptionally helpful information.

Mercury offered the still-unnamed ghost a friendly smile. “How did you enjoy London?” he asked her.

Her constant look of consternation shifted into something far closer to panic, which he hadn't been expecting.

Even more unexpected was that Miss Huddleston, who had literally not said a single word in the hours she and her mother had been at Aventine Manor, was the one who answered. “Timidity is one of Granny Grey’s Integral Traits. Please do not require her to speak.”

In quick and kind of frantic words, Mrs. Huddleston said to Lord Garston, “My daughter is merely overwhelmed. I assure you, she's not usually so forward. This is her very first transfer, and there's so much to think about and so much to do.”

Miss Huddleston didn't argue or defend herself.

In a flash, the family's puzzle fell into place. Granny Grey, which was apparently this specter's name, was not Mrs . Huddleston's ghostly companion, but Miss Huddleston’s. She was, as he suspected, something of a fragile ghoul, in need of care. And Miss Huddleston was protective of her.

He'd not known what to think of the younger of the two ladies. Her silence and her tendency to make certain she knew where Mercury was at any given moment had left him suspicious of her. The bigger issue was that she appeared to be suspicious of him .

Lord Garston turned an almost pitying look on Miss Huddleston.

“I'm quite the expert in transfers, I assure you.

I've undertaken at least a dozen trades. I would be happy to answer any questions you have or help you navigate it.” Underlying that pity was, if Mercury wasn't mistaken, and he very seldom was, interest. Perhaps Lord Garston was hoping to leave Aventine Manor with more than just a ghost.

“Have you decided which ghost you intend to swap for, then?” he asked the young lord.

Pearl looked undeniably hopeful. Mercury didn't dare toss her the smile he felt.

It was best not to tip one's hand. He would very much like having Pearl back for a time.

She was a nice addition to the group, but he'd found that rapid traders like Lord Garston needed to feel they were coming out with the upper hand every time.

“I don't care to be rushed,” Lord Garston said. “I have narrowed my list to two, but I might need a bit more time to decide which is ideal.” His eyes darted to Miss Huddleston, though he likely thought he had hidden the movement. Mercury didn’t miss much.

“I hope the two that you are considering aren’t The Quiet Queen or Signora Bellona,” Mrs. Huddleston said. “Those are the two that we have our eye on.”

Lord Garston shook his head, the movement somehow both regal and a little pathetic.

“Vernon the Vain and Testy Tolver. I think we will make an excellent pair, whichever I choose. I simply have to decide.” He punctuated his declaration with a shrug that was no doubt meant to convey to all of them how commonplace such a difficult decision was for him, given his vast trading experience.

“Tell us about the Queen and the Signora,” Mrs. Huddleston requested of Mercury.

“Both are very fond of social gatherings,” he said, knowing that would appeal to a woman who was trading a ghost specifically for the purpose of parading it about in London. “Both are eager for trades, enjoy changes of scenery and companionship. So you are unlikely to have objections from either.”

Mrs. Huddleston nodded eagerly, seemingly warming to her choices.

“And, as they have never shown any opposition to rapid trades,” Mercury added, “you could broker another exchange as fashions change.”

“Oh, excellent.” Mrs. Huddleston clasped her hands together in excitement.

“How often are exchanges generally made?” Miss Huddleston asked.

Mercury couldn't tell if she was horrified, concerned, or merely curious. He was an excellent judge of character and could generally take a person's measure almost immediately. But she was eluding him.

“Six months has to pass before a new trade can be brokered,” Lord Garston answered, jumping into the conversation with a beaming smile and a look of poorly disguised pride.

“If, Mr. Raine, you were to trade all of your ghosts within a few days of each other, then you could do no more trades for six more months?” she asked. “That must make being a successful ghost broker a little complicated.”

He couldn't say anyone had ever sorted out that potential difficulty.

Most didn't even think about it. Trading ghosts wasn’t, in the minds of upper Society, much different from obtaining a new suit of clothing or a pair of matched horses.

So long as they had what they wanted in the end, the work required to manage it was beneath their notice and thus of little concern.

“Those with multiple attachments are not limited in the frequency of their trades,” Mercury explained. “Only those with a single attachment are time-limited.”

She gave a ponderous nod, making him think hers was a genuine desire to understand better how the system worked .

Perhaps, as they moved forward, that could be a point of conversation, an opportunity for him to sort her out a little better.

If she was to be a repeat client—and he always hoped people returned—it would help if he understood her preferences and character and which ghosts she was most likely to be happy with.

In the end, he couldn't make the decision for his clients or his ghosts, but a good broker knew how to point both parties in the right direction.

“You have not addressed the most pressing matter,” Mrs. Huddleston said.

“And what is that?” Mercury had long ago learned the trick of always being calm, no matter the aggravation.

“The Queen and the Signora are social and welcoming of change, travel, and new people. But will they judge people as harshly as current fashion demands?”

Mercury allowed a smile to spread slowly over his face. “I assure you, they are capable of mercilessly doing so.”

That seemed to perk up Lord Garston. “Are they really?”

Mrs. Huddleston flashed an alarmed look at the gentleman she had only just been eager to impress. That gentleman looked suddenly even more indecisive than usual.

Miss Huddleston allowed the tiniest twitch of amusement.

The next few days could be interesting indeed.