She turned to fix me with a withering glare. "Don't be so sure. Anyway, I'm worried about more than your reputation."
More than...? Oh. "Jacob has been the perfect gentleman, Sis, don't worry." I bit the inside of my cheek. He'd kissed me. Perhaps perfect was too strong a word.
"Emily..." She shook her head but I could tell she was bursting to ask me something. I had a feeling I would regret prompting her but I did anyway.
"Ye-es?"
"Well, do you think ghosts can...you know?"
Oh dear, regret wasn't a strong enough word for how I felt about this conversation. It was heading into very murky waters. "I have no idea what you're talking about and I don't think I want to."
"I know you know what I'm suggesting because we had that little chat only last year."
"Oh, that," I said, feigning nonchalance. "You're asking me if ghosts can have marital relations?" It was the phrase Celia had used during our talk on how babies were made. Even though most unwed girls my age were quite ignorant about what happened between men and women, my sister had insisted I be made aware. I'd thought it very progressive of her, particularly since she was essentially a prude. Not even I had seen her without her clothes on. Still, discussing it with her now was no less embarrassing than it had been then.
"Yes," she said. "Well, what do you think? Can they...you know?"
"I don't know. Would you like me to ask Jacob for you?"
"No!" She turned back to the wardrobe and studied the clothes with extra intensity.
I think I won that little battle.
"Why have you been crying?" she asked suddenly.
Oh dear, I was losing the war. I rubbed my eyes and yawned dramatically, putting my arms above my head and twisting my body for effect. "I slept poorly. I've a lot on my mind."
She seemed to believe me this time. She patted my arm and sighed. "So have I. What are you going to do today?"
"About the demon?" I padded across the floor to my dressing table and peered into the mirror. Good lord, I really did look awful. My eyes were rimmed red, my nose had swelled up and the dark shadows made it look like someone had punched me. Not even a strong cup of tea would help me look like myself again. "I think I'll go and see if George has contacted Leviticus Price," I said, frowning at me reflection. Hopefully a dose of cool air would help my complexion.
"Good idea." She laid the dress on the bed and whipped her palm down the skirt to flatten it. Satisfied, she made for the door. "If there's anything I can do, let me know." She left, her back not quite as straight as usual. She must still be blaming herself for letting the demon loose.