through your eyes.”
“I confess I am eager to relate my accounting.”
“And you shall. I expect him to call any day.” The brush was replaced on the table and Maggie’s strong hand gently wrapped around Elizabeth’s upper arm. “Well, then, to bed, Beauty, if your prince is calling.”
“I didn’t say it would be tomorrow.”
“He’d be a fool to let any length of time pass till he next saw you. You are much too beautiful to risk losing.
Why, there might have been other gentlemen present who desire to call upon you.”
Just one, and he was the most improper man of all.
Alynwick took no notice of the rules of their world. He cared about nothing, no one, other than himself. Elizabeth would not fool herself into believing that the scoundrel wished to call upon her. He observed none of the proprieties. No, what Alynwick had been about was ruining her evening with Lord Sheldon. For what reason, she could not fathom, other than he had always enjoyed making sport of her. And she had allowed it—for a time. What Alynwick did not realize was that she would no longer tolerate his interference in her life, her friendships or indeed, any possible courtships.
He could go hang for all she cared.
“’Night, miss,” Maggie murmured as Elizabeth settled back against the fluffed-up pillows.
BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012
9780373776627_CS5_txt.indd 54
12-01-31 4:03 PM
CHARLOTTE FEATHERSTONE
55
“Maggie,” she found herself whispering, “what is the time?”
“Nearly two, miss.”
“And dawn?” she asked quietly as she turned to face the window she could not see out of. “What time does it arrive, now that we are in the midst of November?”
“Thinking of your gentleman caller, by chance?” her companion teased.
“Perhaps.” But she wasn’t. For some ungodly reason she was thinking of a mist-shrouded field and tendrils of early morning light flickering off gunmetal.
“Dawn will arrive by six. There is no need to fret. I will wake you with plenty of time to help you prepare.” Maggie’s departure was silent, with only the click of the closing door alerting Elizabeth to the fact her companion had departed. Gathering Rosie close to her, she ran her hands through the spaniel’s long, silky coat.
“I won’t sleep tonight,” she whispered to the dog.
“Damn him, he’s robbed me of another perfectly decent night’s sleep.”
Rosie made a little growling sound as she struggled to get comfortable. Despite the blackness that shrouded her, Lizzy turned to face her bedroom window. Beyond the glass, she could see in her mind’s eye the black, sooty grime of London. The town houses and the spire of churches and the dome of Saint Paul’s—all memories from when she’d possessed sight.
She saw a field covered with a thick white blanket of frost, and tendrils of mist hovering over the ground. In the breeze, wool greatcoats flapped, and she heard pistols fire, the shots cracking through the silent air, leaving grey smoke twirling upwards from the barrels.
She imagined the scene a hundred different times in those long hours she lay silently in bed, but it was always BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012
9780373776627_CS5_txt.indd 55
12-01-31 4:03 PM
56
TEMPTATION & TWILIGHT
the same. The colour of blood had swum before her eyes, and the prone body of a man was revealed with the parting of the crimson.
It was Alynwick. And despite her attempts to deny it, her heart ached at the very thought.
Unable to withstand the images she saw in her head, she felt around her nightstand, searching for the drawer pull. Finding it, she opened the drawer and lifted out the little leather journal that lay hidden inside.
Opening the cover, she allowed her fingers to trace over the brittle vellum page. She had found the diary of her notorious ancestor Sinjin York years ago, while playing in the attic of her family’s country house. She hadn’t understood what it was until she was older.
Once she
“I confess I am eager to relate my accounting.”
“And you shall. I expect him to call any day.” The brush was replaced on the table and Maggie’s strong hand gently wrapped around Elizabeth’s upper arm. “Well, then, to bed, Beauty, if your prince is calling.”
“I didn’t say it would be tomorrow.”
“He’d be a fool to let any length of time pass till he next saw you. You are much too beautiful to risk losing.
Why, there might have been other gentlemen present who desire to call upon you.”
Just one, and he was the most improper man of all.
Alynwick took no notice of the rules of their world. He cared about nothing, no one, other than himself. Elizabeth would not fool herself into believing that the scoundrel wished to call upon her. He observed none of the proprieties. No, what Alynwick had been about was ruining her evening with Lord Sheldon. For what reason, she could not fathom, other than he had always enjoyed making sport of her. And she had allowed it—for a time. What Alynwick did not realize was that she would no longer tolerate his interference in her life, her friendships or indeed, any possible courtships.
He could go hang for all she cared.
“’Night, miss,” Maggie murmured as Elizabeth settled back against the fluffed-up pillows.
BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012
9780373776627_CS5_txt.indd 54
12-01-31 4:03 PM
CHARLOTTE FEATHERSTONE
55
“Maggie,” she found herself whispering, “what is the time?”
“Nearly two, miss.”
“And dawn?” she asked quietly as she turned to face the window she could not see out of. “What time does it arrive, now that we are in the midst of November?”
“Thinking of your gentleman caller, by chance?” her companion teased.
“Perhaps.” But she wasn’t. For some ungodly reason she was thinking of a mist-shrouded field and tendrils of early morning light flickering off gunmetal.
“Dawn will arrive by six. There is no need to fret. I will wake you with plenty of time to help you prepare.” Maggie’s departure was silent, with only the click of the closing door alerting Elizabeth to the fact her companion had departed. Gathering Rosie close to her, she ran her hands through the spaniel’s long, silky coat.
“I won’t sleep tonight,” she whispered to the dog.
“Damn him, he’s robbed me of another perfectly decent night’s sleep.”
Rosie made a little growling sound as she struggled to get comfortable. Despite the blackness that shrouded her, Lizzy turned to face her bedroom window. Beyond the glass, she could see in her mind’s eye the black, sooty grime of London. The town houses and the spire of churches and the dome of Saint Paul’s—all memories from when she’d possessed sight.
She saw a field covered with a thick white blanket of frost, and tendrils of mist hovering over the ground. In the breeze, wool greatcoats flapped, and she heard pistols fire, the shots cracking through the silent air, leaving grey smoke twirling upwards from the barrels.
She imagined the scene a hundred different times in those long hours she lay silently in bed, but it was always BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012
9780373776627_CS5_txt.indd 55
12-01-31 4:03 PM
56
TEMPTATION & TWILIGHT
the same. The colour of blood had swum before her eyes, and the prone body of a man was revealed with the parting of the crimson.
It was Alynwick. And despite her attempts to deny it, her heart ached at the very thought.
Unable to withstand the images she saw in her head, she felt around her nightstand, searching for the drawer pull. Finding it, she opened the drawer and lifted out the little leather journal that lay hidden inside.
Opening the cover, she allowed her fingers to trace over the brittle vellum page. She had found the diary of her notorious ancestor Sinjin York years ago, while playing in the attic of her family’s country house. She hadn’t understood what it was until she was older.
Once she
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