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woman sighed as she closed the door to the library and leaned against it, her hand over
     her heart. “For a minute there I thought Vivian had caught him.” Amelia walked to an elaborate cabinet and removed a crystal
     decanter. “Speaking of sherry, I believe I’ll have a nip. Josie?”
    “No, thank you. I don’t understand.The servants know there’s a ghost.”
    “They don’t think he’s real,” Amelia explained. “Oh,they repeat the stories over a pint at the pub,but I’ve learned from experience
     that servants will accept working for an eccentric, but employment in a real haunted house is a different kettle of fish altogether.”
    “But they know I’m here to certify the ghost’s existence.”
    “Pish-tosh. Most of them think you’re humoring me for the sake of your fee. A few think you’re crazy, too. If they don’t actually
     see or hear him, they can choose not to believe in him.”
    Josie rubbed her temples. In front of the servants, she should pretend to be humoring a crazy old lady. In reality, the ghost
     would be teaching her etiquette so he could take her back in time to attend a séance and debunk a gypsy seer. Oh, yeah. She
     understood. Perfectly.
    “What she means...” Deverell said, suddenly appearing, seated in one of the leather chairs.
    “Don’t do that!” Josie said.
    “So you said earlier. I am unclear as to your meaning.”
    Was Deverell being purposely obtuse in order to irritate her? Josie refused to let him see he’d succeeded. “I mean don’t materialize
     without some sort of warning. Amelia may be used to you popping in and out, but I’m not.”
    Deverell leaned back and regarded her with a grin. “What do you suggest? Shall I rattle some chains or rap three times on
     the ceiling?”
    Josie rewarded his teasing with a quelling look. “I was thinking more along the lines of moaning in eternal pain,” she said
     with a false, sweet smile.
    “Nonsense. Both of you,” Amelia said, breaking the tension. “That will scare the servants. You’ll have to come up with something
     silent.” Her expectant gaze fell on Josie.
    Struggling to come up with an idea, Josie cleared her throat.“Well, earlier, I sort of felt a tingle of awareness at Deverell’s
     presence.” Josie couldn’t, didn’t want to, look at the ghost as she tried to explain.“If he could project that, it should
     provide enough warning so he won’t startle me into falling down the stairs at least.”
    “Do you mean like this,” he said, stretching out his hand as if he expected her to take it.
    Josie felt a connection to him, felt a warm curl of response to his magnetism, felt the need to grasp his hand and draw him
     closer. Instead, she pushed herself away, instinctively holding up her hands in front of her as a shield.“No,” she said, shaking
     her head. Her voice didn’t quiver like her insides, but she knew a plea for mercy was in her eyes.
    Deverell nodded as if he understood and agreed to comply with her unspoken request.
    “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Amelia said, cheerful as ever and apparently oblivious to the tension in the room. “Dinner
     is nearly ready, and we should begin your lessons.”
    Josie wasn’t sure how much of this lecture she’d remember. Her head was still spinning, but she dutifully opened her notebook.

Three
    "B EFORE THE BUTLER ANNOUNCES DINNER,” Amelia said, her tone revealing her experience as a history teacher, “the hostess matches
     up the dinner partners. She provides introductions, if necessary, and she often suggests a topic of conversation of mutual
     interest.”
    “Josie will not be called upon to act as hostess,” Deverell interjected.
    “Of course not, dear. But she should have an appreciation of the magnitude of your mother’s responsibilities.”When he offered
     no further argument, she continued. “The hostess lines up the guests for the promenade into the dining room in order of precedence.”
    Josie made a note