A Midsummer Night's Wonky: A Cozy Witch Mystery (Wonky Inn Book 12) by Jeannie Wycherley

Author:Jeannie Wycherley [Wycherley, Jeannie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bark at the Moon Books
Published: 2021-06-20T16:00:00+00:00

Except somebody had already beaten Hope to Silvan’s affections.

And no, unfortunately, I’m not referring to myself.

The constant tinging of the reception bell had eventually driven me from my death bed and catapulted me down the front stairs.

“Wizard Eleghast—”

“Witch Daemonne?” Wizard Eleghast gave a little bow. “You haven’t seen Colonel Peters, have you?”

“Haven’t we been here before?” I enquired. “What is it that you need Arch—Colonel Peters for? Can I be of assistance instead?”

“Oh, certainly! Most kind of you. Could you find him for me?”

“I don’t know where he is—”

“Oh, that is a shame.” Wizard Eleghast looked quite crestfallen.

“But I’d be happy to help you—”

“Look for him?” Wizard Eleghast perked up immediately. “What a sweet girl you are.”

I took a deep breath, considering how best to rephrase my question. I considered the options carefully … and then gave up. “I will most certainly try,” I said, and headed for the bar.

“Miss Alf!” Florence was clearing the remnants of afternoon tea from a newly vacated table.

“The very same,” I replied.

“I thought you were resting?”

“I thought I was too, but some people have other ideas.” I jerked my head in the direction of reception, where the tinging had started up again. “Florence, could you be a dear and try and get Wizard Eleghast to stop tinging that rotten bell? Or even better, find Archibald. Do you know where he is?”

“The last I saw of him, he was deep in conversation with Mr Luppitt, Miss.”

Luppitt and Archibald? That could only spell trouble.

“Are you sure you should be up and about, Miss?”

I was touched. At least Florence cared about me. “I’ll be fine, Florence, thank you.” I tried to smile and regretted it immediately.

“I’m sure you will, Miss Alf,” Florence replied in her brisk, no-nonsense way. “I’m worried you might scare the guests.”

I’d scare the guests? Was she serious? She was charred and smoking! Nobody batted an eye at her appearance. I tossed my head—painfully—and continued through the bar. “Please find Archibald, Florence,” I called back over my shoulder as Wizard Eleghast continued to pummel the poor reception bell into surrender. I decided that if he broke it, I would never replace it.

Ever.

My heart did a little skip—as it always did—when I spotted Silvan leaning against the bar. Normally I’d see him there cradling his whisky, poring over a crossword, but not this afternoon. He was engaged in conversation with Gwyn. Or at least, she was talking, and he was listening—because that’s what a conversation with Gwyn usually entailed.

“Of course, the Duke of Edmonsea was absolutely infatuated with me. It certainly helps to have connections in high places. You never know when you might need them …”

She was telling him those old stories of hers, was she? I rolled my eyes and continued through the door, past The Snug, where two of my guests were getting up close and familiar—well, honestly! That’s what their rooms were for—and down the back passage. Halfway to the kitchen, I paused, thought about what I’d seen, and quietly retraced my steps.

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