Tremble in the Dark: A Gwen Farris Novel by P. S. Power

wasn't expecting you. Is there trouble? The Vernors?" He was asking if
they'd finally come to their senses and tossed her out. It was a reasonable
thought, if you didn't realize that they were actually good people.
    "They're
doing well, except for the fact that as time goes on things seem to be getting
worse for them, socially, rather than better. I was actually hoping I could
talk to you about that?" She waited and only got a curious look in
exchange. Four months before he would have asked what she wanted, and seemed
hesitant to make a promise. Now he simply seemed relaxed and ready to say no,
regardless of what she said.
    That
was how it seemed at least.
    "Really,
what I'm doing here is, how did Bethany put it? We're here on a matter of honor ,
and it really doesn't have much to do with you in a negative manner at this
time. If that changes, I promise to tell you, but we actually came to talk to
Lisa Wendell, or at least Beth did. That's the real reason we're here. For my
part, I was wondering if I might be allowed to send you a party invitation? I
don't want you to feel awkward or anything. There will be other Dukes there for
you to play with though. We're inviting Ferdinand and the Marduk too, I think.
Plus a bunch of Westmorlands that can rift. It's important to show people that
we're not afraid of them. Especially now." They hadn't destroyed
the Capital, but try and tell that to the average man on the street. Or worse a
Newsie hidden in their studio, safe from accountability for their words.
    She
expected a simple no, or perhaps for the man to make polite excuse, or even
just to say that he was feeling too uncomfortable to do any such thing. It fit
his face at the moment, until he broke into a familiar grin.
    "As
your date? That would be nice, I think. Unless you already have someone lined
up?" He seemed interested, but she shook her head.
    "Not
really, I was going to ask Mr. Grimes, our family Solicitor, but haven't
yet. He's very nice." She meant it, but his face fell, even if she thought
that her words had been pretty clear that she was still free for the thing.
    "I
see. Is he a handsome man then? Wealthy? Though I gather that wouldn't sway you
at all, would it? Humorous perhaps?" His look was getting almost comically
hangdog.
    Gwen
nodded anyway. After all, as far as she could tell most of that was just true.
The humor part was subjective of course.
    " Very dashing, and gallant too. Also about fifty, or a little older. Actually, I
think you'd like him, if you met. He's very honest and willing to actually
explain things to me. Really, I should probably date him just for that, or at
least make certain we have him over for tea more regularly. But I haven't
asked, and you seem to be hinting that an invitation wouldn't simply be burnt
to get rid of the cooties?" She paused, ready to explain the concept, but
he smiled back at her.
    "Ah,
you've learned of the dreaded cootie. They're said to positively infest young
girls I hear. You seem old enough for them to have died down by now however.
I'd check you for them, but that wouldn't be proper." He didn't move, and
his expression didn't change at all.
     She
felt her face go warm and realized it was probably a blush.
    "If
we weren't going to be interrupted at any time, I might invite you to check
anyway, improper or not. I don't want to be walking around with them and not
know it, after all." Shaking her head she moved closer to him, by about
three steps. They weren't in touching distance at all, until he took a step
toward her as well. There was meaning in it, but she didn't really know what,
until he held out his hand to her.
    "I
treated you unfairly, Gwen. I thought, after that horror with my father... I
figured that it would be easier on you to not see me again. You came to the
funeral, out of duty, and I failed to protect you there as well. It was you and
your Westmorland friends that had to protect us. For a time I'd even wondered
if Doctor Debussey had used her power to