Snow was falling, but it was tainted by ash and cinder clouds that were drifting through the air. The burning remnants of the home were surrounded by the smell of burned wood. There were still smoke plumes coming from the destroyed walls and fallen beams here and there, rising like ghosts. In the ruins, a rocking horse with brightly colored paint that had blistered and peeled lay on its side. The grand pianoforte was buried beneath the second story stairs while Portia gazed in dumb horror as it collapsed in a hail of sparks.In front of the home, a little patch of burnt grass was covered in overturned buckets. Evidence that the fire crew had either come too late or given up too soon was a cart with an abandoned hand pump slumped near the street corner, its leather hose twisted up like a defeated snake.On the other side of the street, a group of weeping servants and Adrian's neighbors gathered, some of them still wearing nightgowns and dressing gowns. Portia could feel the pain of the
Cuthbert sighed contentedly as he snuggled down even more on his bed. He was looking forward to a long, warm slumber on this chilly winter night, with a hot brick wrapped in flannel to keep his toes warm and the fiery plum pudding he had eaten for supper still warming his belly.When someone started tapping on the window of his bedroom, he was almost asleep. He must have seen the snow turn to sleet, he drowsily reasoned as he rolled over and pulled the blankets up to his chin. The tapping persisted and had an odd beat as well as being persistent.He abruptly sat up in bed, his nightcap's tassel falling over one eye. Perhaps a limb had just broken under the weight of the snow and started banging against his windowpane. He hesitantly tore open the drapes on the bed and slid his feet onto the chilly hardwood floor knowing there was only one way to find out.He crept toward the window as his heart began to beat in an unpleasant rhythm. Even the familiar shapes of the wardrobe and washstan
Torn between fear and relief, Portia scrambled to see her niece's face beneath the tumbling crown of honey-colored locks. Eloisa's small mouth was perfectly pursed into a rosebud, and her cheeks were softly suffused with pink. Under the ruffled bodice of her nightgown, her breast rose and fell smoothly, and her throat was unblemished. She seemed alive, and she looked uninjured.When Portia realized Valentine must have come from the one room neither she nor Adrian had looked in, she wanted to slap herself. The area had filthy stains all over the floor and empty chains hanging from the wall that could be pulled or bent to disclose a hidden room or corridor.Her finger gently touched the crossbow's trigger. As long as she was using Eloisa as a human shield, she knew she had no chance of obtaining a clear shot at Valentine's heart.Although the vampire's pale, slender arms showed no signs of exertion, Ellie was as strong as a small pony. She could certainly carry the child for hours witho
Julian was standing just inside the French doors at the far end of the ballroom when Portia gently turned to look. He was dressed entirely in black. He was dressed in tall leather boots, a black shirt with a classy fall of midnight lace at the collar and cuffs, and black breeches. Never before did he appear more like a prince of the night.He added, his icy, mocking stare sweeping over her like a very beautiful but deadly blade, "Had I known Miss Cabot was going to deliver one of her impassioned speeches on the sentimental nature of true love, I would have tucked an extra handkerchief in my pocket."Valentine laughed bitterly before Portia could realize how much damage that had done to her heart. "I knew you couldn't be far behind if she was here. The way you follow her around like a stag in a rut is extremely bothersome."Angel, don't flatter the chit. You are aware that I trot after the heels of all attractive women, especially yours.Now that she was starting to wriggle seriously,
The women were sobbing.Eloisa was sitting between Caroline and Vivienne on the hard wooden pew, nibbling on a thread of her mother's pearls. In an effort to reassure Vivienne, Larkin sat across from her and squeezed her hand."Did you ever think this day would arrive?," I asked. The monogrammed handkerchief Caroline always carries in her bodice was used to dab at her pink nose as she begged her sister.Vivienne shook her head, tears welling up in her huge blue eyes. The only solace I can find is in the knowledge that we will be here for her in her time of need, providing support and direction as well as solace.She was stroked on the hand by Caroline. "Letting go of someone you love is never easy."Vivienne gave a nod. particularly someone so amazing.Eloisa moved around the pew and stood up as her agitation increased minute by minute. After spitting out the pearls, she looked gravely at the serious faces of the adults seated behind her in the pews.Up until a man, his tall, slender
Snowflakes floated out of the dawn sky and covered the park meadow in white. Julian Kane could easily picture how that spotless counterpane would look splattered with his blood.His yell of laughing desecrated the stillness of the snowflakes falling. “Cubby, what do you say, my man? Should we belt out a few verses of “The Girl I Left Behind Me” to inspire us to greatness? He lost his balance as a sharp bump caught his foot, forcing him to lean even more heavily on his friend’s broad shoulders. Maybe “Blow the Man Down” would be a better choice.Cuthbert wobbled to the right, trying to hold Julian and the mahogany box under his free arm in place. Jules, I’d rather not. There is a severe pain in my head. I can’t believe I succumbed to your persuasiveness. What kind of second lets his first spend the entire night drinking and getting foxed before a duel? While there was still time, you ought to have allowed me to take you back to the Continent on that ferry.He received a scolding finger
Do you truly have a mental illness?”A more frail spirit would have cowered in fear at being asked such a question by such an extraordinary specimen of a man in a near-roar, but Portia refused to take offense. After all, her brother-in-law didn’t really doubt her sanity on a regular basis. He had only ever done it once. She once trapped a hissing 600-year-old vampire at Lady Quattlebaum’s midsummer musicale during the bassoon interlude and kept him at bay with a violin bow until Adrian showed there with his crossbow. She also turned down two wealthy, attractive young noblemen who had just expressed an interest in marrying her.If he had been yelling at her out of resentment rather than concern, Portia might have been more concerned. Nevertheless, she was convinced that Adrian would have loved her even more if she had been his sister rather than his wife’s child.She was able to calmly glance up at him from the wing chair in front of the fireplace as he traversed the drawing room of hi
He was unaware of her.With the same searing, black eyes that had been a nightmare for her for the previous five years, Julian Kane had directly gazed at her, showing only the tiniest hint of curiosity. Or was it irritation?He seemed to have forgotten much of her because their time together had apparently meant so little to him. Why should he, too? Portia pondered. He had surely had dozens, no, hordes of other women willing to help him forget her in the years since he had left—she sneaked a bitter glance at the blowsy brunette still clutching to his hand. Why should he recall the awkward seventeen-year-old girl who almost threw herself at him every time he waltzed into a room, flushed, stammered, and entered?Portia had to resist the impulse to erupt into a towering wrath as soon as the initial wave of pain subsided. She wanted nothing more than tossing her magnificent bonnet on the ground and jumping up and down on it, despite bragging to Adrian that she was no longer a child.Brill