HartsLove by K.M. Grant

Charles where he was, but it was cold and Charles would be even more useless dead than he was alive so in the end the groom hoisted his employer over his shoulder, stamped over to the castle and dumped him under the Furious Boy.

9
    The let-up in the weather brought another potential buyer, this time a widowed lady, still in mourning, and her agent. Charles went out to meet them. He was relieved to do so. Since the death of Gryffed, he could not face his children and they could not face him. The intruders would at least save them from each other.
    The lady came in, raised her black lace veil and removed black kidskin gloves to reveal very white hands. She stood in front of one of the hall fires warming her feet and fluttering carefully darkened and thickened eyelashes. ‘An unusual welcoming party,’ she observed, gesturing at the statues. ‘I like them.’ She offered Charles her arm. ‘You must show me round.’ With an awkward smile, Charles took the arm, and he and the lady crossed the hall and went through to the drawing room, leaving her agent under the silent scrutiny of Rose, Lily, Daisy, Garth, Columbine and Clover. The man viewed the blank-eyed statues with distaste, brushedhis hat and pointed a stubby finger at Rose. ‘You can take me round,’ he said.
    Rose was too dispirited to object. ‘What do you want to see?’
    â€˜Everything.’
    Rose shrugged helplessly. She made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. After a moment’s pause, Daisy beckoned to the others and they all followed, almost treading on the agent’s heels. Irritated, he turned round. The children bundled to a halt. When he walked again, there they were, right on top of him. Daisy actually trod on the back of his shoe with her callipers. ‘For the love of God!’ the agent exclaimed to Rose. ‘Are these your siblings?’ He bent to rub his ankle. ‘Tell them to get lost. I only need one guide.’
    Rose nearly did as he asked. What did anything matter any more. But as she turned to obey, she saw the Dead Girl gazing at her from the top of the steps, a diamond teardrop in the corner of each eye. It was the first time Rose had ever seen the Dead Girl out of their father’s passage. Rose breathed in, then out. She turned to the agent. ‘What siblings?’ she asked sweetly. Lily, Garth, Daisy, Columbine and Clover were immediately alert as hounds. The agent threw back an arm. ‘These creatures – aren’t they your sisters and brother?’
    â€˜What creatures?’ Rose asked, more sweetly still. Angry now, the man seized Columbine. With perfect timing shebecame a rag doll in his arms and when he let go, sank to the floor, then rose again without a sound. ‘Stop this!’ the man expostulated. Clover nearly giggled. Rose opened the kitchen door. ‘This is the kitchen,’ she said. Mrs Snipper was banging pots about. Rose put a finger to her lips.
    The agent was relieved to see a plump, ordinary looking creature, with a mobcap and an apron. He coughed and took a notebook from the pocket of his chequered jacket. ‘What’s the capacity of the range?’ he asked. Mrs Snipper said nothing. ‘Capacity, woman, capacity!’ he repeated. Still nothing.
    â€˜I don’t know the capacity,’ said Rose.
    â€˜I wasn’t asking you,’ said the agent. ‘I was asking the cook.’
    â€˜What cook?’ asked Rose. Mrs Snipper’s cheeks twitched and she banged the pots even harder.
    The agent looked at Rose in a fury. ‘Are you simpleminded or is this a silly game?’ he barked.
    â€˜I don’t know what you mean,’ said Rose, turning the full force of her cornflower eyes on to him. ‘Are you saying you can see a cook?’
    â€˜There
is
a cook.’
    â€˜If we could afford a cook, we’d hardly be selling the castle,’ Rose responded gravely.
    The agent ran to Mrs Snipper, but as he