A haunted soul, a broken heart, and an ancient castle that takes care of its own.
In a mysterious castle in Oxfordshire, in a bedchamber above stairs lays Sylvie Bentham, the Countess of Trevelyan, deceased of a fever at the tender age of twenty-three.
Or is she?
Sylvie doesn't feel dead. To be fair, she doesn't feel alive either-not until James, the husband she thought lost to her forever appears at her bedside and begs her to come back to him. James makes the frozen blood rush through her veins and her lifeless heart beat wildly in her chest, but he's made her promises before, promises he didn't keep. How can she trust his promise of forever?
James always thought he'd return to Sylvie someday, but he's waited too long, and now she's gone forever.
Or is she?
Dead countesses don't wander the corridors of the castle, or play the pianoforte in the music room at midnight. Dead countesses don't stroke his hair, or hold his hand, or drop tender kisses on his lips. A shadow of Sylvie's soul yet lingers inside her body, but will his love be enough to lure her back from the brink of death?
