her and opened the
door.
The room was still dark, the curtains pulled over the tall windows. Catherine—her
lips pursed with silent irritation—walked purposefully over to the drapes and flung
them aside, waving away a cloud of dust that flew out from the material.
“This is unhealthy!” she exclaimed. “No wonder the place smells of mildew!”
Kaelin folded his arms and watched her as she moved from one window to another,
shoving aside the drapes and flinging open the windows to let in the sunshine and fresh
air.
“I’ve been trying to think of ways to occupy my time while His Grace sleeps,”
Catherine mumbled. “I think I’ve just found one.”
“The place could use a thorough cleaning,” Kaelin agreed. He looked about the
room. “I doubt he knows how badly Nyria has let things slide lately.”
“How could he not know?” Catherine grated. She sneezed, sneezed again and then
looked to the heavens for help.
Kaelin laughed. “Something tells me the next time I come to visit I’ll be able to eat
off the floor!”
Catherine laughed as well. “Well, maybe not, but at least this room will be clean as I
found the dining room earlier!” She dusted her palms together and then pointed to a
brace of loveseats set at right angles to one another. “Please, sit down.”
“How was your trip down from Holy Dale?” Kaelin asked, referring to her home in
Virago.
“Hot and tiring, but the scenery was nice,” Catherine responded.
“And how did you like our little town?”
“I didn’t get to see much of Devil’s Nest when we landed here in Diabolusia,” she
told him. “Mr. Beasely was waiting at the quay for us as soon as we arrived and it was
pouring rain.”
“Ah, Elmer Beasely,” Kaelin chuckled. He smoothed the crease of his gabardine
breeches. “He had nothing but nice things to say about you this morning at the
Serpent’s Tale.” He smiled. “Our one and only tavern, I’m afraid.”
“That was nice of him,” Catherine said, blushing slightly. “He was very helpful
although…” She looked down at her hands, which were entwined in her lap.
“Although?” Kaelin questioned.
35
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Catherine looked up. “He seemed most anxious to be away from Anubeion before
sundown. I was worried that he wouldn’t make it back to town in that terrible
downpour, but he was more concerned about leaving than his own safety.”
Kaelin’s smile slid slowly away. “Did he say why he preferred not to stay last
evening, Milady Brell?”
“Please,” she asked, making a decision she knew would displease her parents. “Call
me Kate.”
“A lovely name,” he complimented. “And very Chalean.”
“As Kaelin McGregor is very Serenian?” she teased.
“Indeed.” His smile returned for a moment then fled again. “Beasely?” he pressed.
“Did he give you a reason for not wanting to stay the night?”
“No,” she answered. “He just seemed very fearful.” She waved a negligent hand at
the air. “I even asked Nyria if Anubeion might not be haunted to cause such a reaction
in the gentleman.”
Kaelin leaned back against the loveseat and braced his arm across the curved back.
“And what did the inestimable Nyria tell you?”
Catherine lowered her voice. “She told me of the night creature who supposedly
roams the plantation grounds,” she replied, her eyes twinkling.
The lawgiver’s mouth tightened perceptively. “I am sure Khenty was not pleased
with the woman’s foolishness,” he snapped. “She should not be regaling you with
superstitious slave folklore.”
“She dismissed it as such,” Catherine said, feeling a need to defend the absent
housekeeper, although she couldn’t imagine why she should bother.
“Nevertheless,” Kaelin quipped, “she shouldn’t have mentioned such things to
you.”
Sensing this man cared no more for Nyria than did the rest of the household, she
wanted to change the subject. “You said there were
door.
The room was still dark, the curtains pulled over the tall windows. Catherine—her
lips pursed with silent irritation—walked purposefully over to the drapes and flung
them aside, waving away a cloud of dust that flew out from the material.
“This is unhealthy!” she exclaimed. “No wonder the place smells of mildew!”
Kaelin folded his arms and watched her as she moved from one window to another,
shoving aside the drapes and flinging open the windows to let in the sunshine and fresh
air.
“I’ve been trying to think of ways to occupy my time while His Grace sleeps,”
Catherine mumbled. “I think I’ve just found one.”
“The place could use a thorough cleaning,” Kaelin agreed. He looked about the
room. “I doubt he knows how badly Nyria has let things slide lately.”
“How could he not know?” Catherine grated. She sneezed, sneezed again and then
looked to the heavens for help.
Kaelin laughed. “Something tells me the next time I come to visit I’ll be able to eat
off the floor!”
Catherine laughed as well. “Well, maybe not, but at least this room will be clean as I
found the dining room earlier!” She dusted her palms together and then pointed to a
brace of loveseats set at right angles to one another. “Please, sit down.”
“How was your trip down from Holy Dale?” Kaelin asked, referring to her home in
Virago.
“Hot and tiring, but the scenery was nice,” Catherine responded.
“And how did you like our little town?”
“I didn’t get to see much of Devil’s Nest when we landed here in Diabolusia,” she
told him. “Mr. Beasely was waiting at the quay for us as soon as we arrived and it was
pouring rain.”
“Ah, Elmer Beasely,” Kaelin chuckled. He smoothed the crease of his gabardine
breeches. “He had nothing but nice things to say about you this morning at the
Serpent’s Tale.” He smiled. “Our one and only tavern, I’m afraid.”
“That was nice of him,” Catherine said, blushing slightly. “He was very helpful
although…” She looked down at her hands, which were entwined in her lap.
“Although?” Kaelin questioned.
35
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Catherine looked up. “He seemed most anxious to be away from Anubeion before
sundown. I was worried that he wouldn’t make it back to town in that terrible
downpour, but he was more concerned about leaving than his own safety.”
Kaelin’s smile slid slowly away. “Did he say why he preferred not to stay last
evening, Milady Brell?”
“Please,” she asked, making a decision she knew would displease her parents. “Call
me Kate.”
“A lovely name,” he complimented. “And very Chalean.”
“As Kaelin McGregor is very Serenian?” she teased.
“Indeed.” His smile returned for a moment then fled again. “Beasely?” he pressed.
“Did he give you a reason for not wanting to stay the night?”
“No,” she answered. “He just seemed very fearful.” She waved a negligent hand at
the air. “I even asked Nyria if Anubeion might not be haunted to cause such a reaction
in the gentleman.”
Kaelin leaned back against the loveseat and braced his arm across the curved back.
“And what did the inestimable Nyria tell you?”
Catherine lowered her voice. “She told me of the night creature who supposedly
roams the plantation grounds,” she replied, her eyes twinkling.
The lawgiver’s mouth tightened perceptively. “I am sure Khenty was not pleased
with the woman’s foolishness,” he snapped. “She should not be regaling you with
superstitious slave folklore.”
“She dismissed it as such,” Catherine said, feeling a need to defend the absent
housekeeper, although she couldn’t imagine why she should bother.
“Nevertheless,” Kaelin quipped, “she shouldn’t have mentioned such things to
you.”
Sensing this man cared no more for Nyria than did the rest of the household, she
wanted to change the subject. “You said there were
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