Corsets and Crossbows: A Drake Chronicles Novella in Letters by Alyxandra Harvey

them by name.”
    “I spent most of my youth with my mother’s people in Scotland,” he explained. “They are the hunters, not my father, the earl. He doesn’t know about any of it.”
    I exhaled forcefully, mind spinning. “I can scarcely believe it. Why did you never come to London and join the society? They have a house here after all, for the members. Well, for the
male
members,” I added bitterly.
    “I was going to do just that,” he confirmed. “I’d planned to come down to the city with all manner of pomp and circumstance.”
    “What happened?”
    “I went to France on my Grand Tour,” he answered drily. “And I chose a singularly bad alley to stumble down very late one night.”
    “But you survived.”
    “If you’d call it that.”
    “That’s why you never took your oath.”
    He nodded sharply. “And why my mother kicked me out of her house and bid me disappear.”
    I was trying not to feel compassion and sympathy for him but failing miserably. I’d lowered my crossbow without even realizing it. “What did your father say?”
    “My father thinks we had a quarrel. My mother remains in Scotland and refuses to visit town while I am here. My father is perplexed but finds life easier without my mother and so is not questioning either of us too closely. This family rift suits him.”
    Compassion or not, I couldn’t lose my focus entirely. “I’m sad for you, of course,” I said. “But it can hardly excuse you for trying to kill Lord Winterson.”
    He snorted. “I saved his miserable life.”
    “I don’t believe you.”
    He jerked a hand through his hair. “You must. You’re the only one who could.”
    “Explain it to me then.” I wasn’t convinced but I needed to hear the rest of his story.
    “One of the hunters is a turncoat.”
    That much I could vouch for. I’d overheard as much during the ball as I crouched behind the armoire at the top of the stairs.
    “You don’t look shocked,” he remarked.
    “I’m not. Do go on.”
    “That turncoat has hired a vampire to murder Winterson, thus scapegoating every vampire in the city and sending the League into chaos.” He smiled solemnly, without an ounce of humor. “It would be a bloodbath.”
    “And who is this person?”
    “I cannot say. He hides his face. I would recognize his scent I suppose, but I’ve yet to come across it in a singular setting. Balls and theaters are too … crowded. The smell of blood and warm skin is staggering.” His fangs lengthened and I’m not even certain he noticed.
    I noticed. I lifted the crossbow again warningly. He bowed his head, like any noble at court.
    “And the vampire he hired?” I prodded.
    “I killed him,” he answered darkly. “I won’t let him, or the rogue hunter, start a war.”
    “At Vauxhall,” I murmured. “You staked him at Vauxhall.”
    He met my eyes. “So it
was
you.”
    “Yes.”
    “You are beyond reckless,” he said.
    “As I am proving with every second I sit and listen to you.”
    His smile was crooked this time, and intimate. Warmth tingled in my belly. I wagged the stake at him again. He chuckled before turning serious again. “I meant to lead the hunter into a trap, to reveal himself and still keep Winterson safe. I could only do that by pretending to at least try to assassinate Winterson. Even so, the traitor is more clever than I’d like. He sent someone else to do the same job.”
    I stood up as regally and confidently as I could. “Then I must stop him.”
    “You can’t stop him alone, Rosalind. Not even you.”
    I hated that he was probably right.
    “If you unlock me, I can help you.” His eyes glinted like iron.
    I titled my head. “You might drain me dry right here on your fine rug.”
    “You might put an arrow through my heart before the shackles are loose.”
    “I might.”
    But I knew I wouldn’t. I trusted him, despite everything. Don’t judge me too harshly, Evie.
    I approached him cautiously, the key swinging from the ribbon at my