Demon of Mine by Ranae Rose Page A

all day, trying to
come to terms with the physician’s words, and she’d had more than
enough of it. She was going out.
    Pushing aside her blankets and
slipping out of bed, she moved as carefully and quietly as she
dared. Still, she paused to stuff her pillow beneath the
bedclothes. If any of the other maids awoke and happened to glance
at her bed, they’d think it occupied. If they didn’t look too
closely, anyway.
    Elsie’s heart slowed a little after
she closed the door behind herself, escaping successfully into the
abandoned hallway. She’d never taken off the clothing she’d donned
earlier that day, and was still fully dressed. The August night
would be warm enough that she wouldn’t want for a shawl or any
other extra garment. A small mercy, for she didn’t dare reenter the
maids’ chambers to retrieve one.
    She encountered no one as she slunk
quietly through the house and exited through a door in the kitchen.
Outside, the night air was just cool enough and the sky was
brilliant with a million diamond pinpricks. She took a deep breath
and uncurled her hands from the fists she’d balled them into. It
felt so good to be out of the house, breathing in the country air
she’d heard so much about. There was a little moonlight, enough
that she was able to keep from stumbling as she began a solitary
walk through the back garden.
    Darkness dulled the fiery reds and
vivid pinks of the gorgeous blooms that dotted the rosebushes, but
did nothing to suppress their sweet aroma. Leaning toward one
perfectly trimmed bush, Elsie caressed one large blossom and
smelled it delicately. A petal drifted down and landed on her toe.
She retrieved it and stroked its cool, smooth surface with a thumb.
After a day spent trapped in bed, every sensation was
precious.
    “ No!” A voice drifted from
beyond the flowering shrubbery, softened by distance but so
vehement that Elsie heard it clearly anyway. She jumped, and her
skirt tore as it caught on a rose thorn. Fortunately, whoever was
speaking was surely too far away to have heard. Elsie carefully
plucked the hem of her skirt from the bush and stood perfectly
still, listening to the soft murmur of voices – yes, there were
definitely two.
    With a feeling that was half guilt and
half secret delight, she realized that she recognized one of the
voices. It was all soft velvet and quiet intensity. Who else spoke
like that? No one she’d ever heard. Images of Damon flooded her
mind as she relished the distant cadence of his speech, and a touch
of corresponding heat crept into her cheeks. Who was he speaking
to?
    The other voice was undeniably
feminine – pleasant in pitch and faintly musical. A little bit like
Mrs. Remington’s. Surely it wasn’t hers, but might it be her
daughter’s – Lucinda’s? The young woman did sound somewhat like her
mother. Well, that was one mystery solved. But what were she and
Damon arguing about?
    She shoved the question from her mind.
It was none of her business, after all.
    Her resolve to turn a deaf ear to the
conversation soon wavered. She should have left and gone back into
the house. She knew that. But once again, she let her fascination
with Damon lead her. The sound of his voice was so becoming that it
left little room in her heart for guilt. She only wanted to have a
look at him. That was all. Under Mrs. Hughes’ strict rule, who knew
when she’d have a chance to see him again? It was lucky that she’d
been able to slip outside tonight, and even more so that she’d
happened upon Damon in the garden. Yes, she’d take a look – if what
the physician said was true, it might be her last, or too close to
it for comfort.
    She wound her way around the rows of
rose bushes, following the sound of Damon’s voice. At last, she saw
him, standing at the edge of the garden, scarcely two feet of space
between himself and a figure in a fine midnight-blue gown. Lucinda.
She was every bit as beautiful as her mother, whose coppery hair
color she’d