the present, was the Eight of Swords.
The card summed up her current emotions very accurately. She felt trapped and
powerless and very afraid. She reached for her glass of ratafia and swallowed
three quarters of the sweet liqueur in one gulp. A flush lit her sallow cheeks.
She felt a little warmer. The neck of the bottle rattled against the glass as
she topped it up. The fire hissed as a log settled deeper in the grate.
Card three was very important, because it gave an insight into
the hidden influences at work. It was the Knight of Swords. She thought this was
probably Henry. Henry was ruthless and determined and driven by duty. He would
do his utmost to bring Lady Marguerite home, even though he would be the one who
would lose the most by it. Lady Emily shrugged her thin shoulders. She knew
Henry was dangerous, her most dangerous enemy.
Matters did not improve with the fourth card, which represented
the obstacles in her path. It was the Seven of Cups. The card spoke of important
choices to be made. The problem was that there were so many different options
that she felt quite overwhelmed. The card held a warning, as well: take care in
your decision, for all is not as it seems.
Frowning, Lady Emily turned her attention to the final three
cards. Card five showed the attitudes of other people. There was help here,
though not in very reliable form. The Page of Pentacles was a wastrel, dissolute
and impatient. He was not a good ally, but at the moment he was all she had.
Lady Emily’s gaze strayed toward the writing desk. Later she would write,
secretly and swiftly, to put him on his guard and to ask for his aid.
There were two cards remaining. They told her what she should
do and the final outcome. The first was Strength, but it was reversed. She had
to overcome her fears. If she did so then the final card promised her reward. It
was the Six of Wands. Victory. Already she felt flushed with success and
achievement. If she was patient, if she was brave, she would triumph.
In the depths of the house a clock struck eight. It was the
only sound. Templemore House felt as though it was waiting, waiting to awaken,
waiting for the lost heir to return. Lady Emily’s gaze went to the portrait over
the fireplace. Her father. It was a great pity that, having lost his first wife
in childbirth when his heir was born, he had failed to marry his mistress,
Emily’s mother, until after her birth. For the first two years of her life Emily
had been illegitimate. She glared at the fierce-looking man in his Georgian
finery. He had been no more than a smug, licentious, arrogant scoundrel. How she
hated him for the sexual excesses that had led to her being branded a bastard.
Legitimizing her through eventual marriage to her mother had been too little,
too late. It had barred her from the succession and turned her into an oddity,
scorned by society as the daughter of a whore, laughed at behind her back.
The old fury rose in her. Her silver bracelets clashed as she
sent the tarot pack tumbling with one flick of her wrist. The card showing the
Fool fluttered into the fire, its edges curling in the flame. Damn her father
and damn her half brother and damn his spoiled daughter who had deserved to die.
Emily stood up. Lady Rose had been destroyed but now her daughter was coming
home. The Wheel of Fortune was turning once again.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Seven of Swords: Do not give your trust too easily
M ARGERY HAD SUGGESTED taking Henry to the Hoop and Grapes Inn
for dinner. It was, as Henry pointed out, the haunt of footpads, highwaymen and
any number of criminals. Margery had chosen it for the good food and because
they knew her there.
“You do not strike me as the sort of female to frequent a place
like this, Miss Mallon,” Henry said as they stopped in front of an ancient
black-beamed and white-plastered building that boasted a battered wooden
signboard above the door. “You seem far too respectable for such a flash
house.”
“I’m far too
The card summed up her current emotions very accurately. She felt trapped and
powerless and very afraid. She reached for her glass of ratafia and swallowed
three quarters of the sweet liqueur in one gulp. A flush lit her sallow cheeks.
She felt a little warmer. The neck of the bottle rattled against the glass as
she topped it up. The fire hissed as a log settled deeper in the grate.
Card three was very important, because it gave an insight into
the hidden influences at work. It was the Knight of Swords. She thought this was
probably Henry. Henry was ruthless and determined and driven by duty. He would
do his utmost to bring Lady Marguerite home, even though he would be the one who
would lose the most by it. Lady Emily shrugged her thin shoulders. She knew
Henry was dangerous, her most dangerous enemy.
Matters did not improve with the fourth card, which represented
the obstacles in her path. It was the Seven of Cups. The card spoke of important
choices to be made. The problem was that there were so many different options
that she felt quite overwhelmed. The card held a warning, as well: take care in
your decision, for all is not as it seems.
Frowning, Lady Emily turned her attention to the final three
cards. Card five showed the attitudes of other people. There was help here,
though not in very reliable form. The Page of Pentacles was a wastrel, dissolute
and impatient. He was not a good ally, but at the moment he was all she had.
Lady Emily’s gaze strayed toward the writing desk. Later she would write,
secretly and swiftly, to put him on his guard and to ask for his aid.
There were two cards remaining. They told her what she should
do and the final outcome. The first was Strength, but it was reversed. She had
to overcome her fears. If she did so then the final card promised her reward. It
was the Six of Wands. Victory. Already she felt flushed with success and
achievement. If she was patient, if she was brave, she would triumph.
In the depths of the house a clock struck eight. It was the
only sound. Templemore House felt as though it was waiting, waiting to awaken,
waiting for the lost heir to return. Lady Emily’s gaze went to the portrait over
the fireplace. Her father. It was a great pity that, having lost his first wife
in childbirth when his heir was born, he had failed to marry his mistress,
Emily’s mother, until after her birth. For the first two years of her life Emily
had been illegitimate. She glared at the fierce-looking man in his Georgian
finery. He had been no more than a smug, licentious, arrogant scoundrel. How she
hated him for the sexual excesses that had led to her being branded a bastard.
Legitimizing her through eventual marriage to her mother had been too little,
too late. It had barred her from the succession and turned her into an oddity,
scorned by society as the daughter of a whore, laughed at behind her back.
The old fury rose in her. Her silver bracelets clashed as she
sent the tarot pack tumbling with one flick of her wrist. The card showing the
Fool fluttered into the fire, its edges curling in the flame. Damn her father
and damn her half brother and damn his spoiled daughter who had deserved to die.
Emily stood up. Lady Rose had been destroyed but now her daughter was coming
home. The Wheel of Fortune was turning once again.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Seven of Swords: Do not give your trust too easily
M ARGERY HAD SUGGESTED taking Henry to the Hoop and Grapes Inn
for dinner. It was, as Henry pointed out, the haunt of footpads, highwaymen and
any number of criminals. Margery had chosen it for the good food and because
they knew her there.
“You do not strike me as the sort of female to frequent a place
like this, Miss Mallon,” Henry said as they stopped in front of an ancient
black-beamed and white-plastered building that boasted a battered wooden
signboard above the door. “You seem far too respectable for such a flash
house.”
“I’m far too
Similar Books
