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He paused to take a sip of water She didn’t glance up Her face looked so serene in the firelight, and even though her hand e, she seemed to have a stillness within her Simon realized that he felt comfortable with this woan his story again "There see froelica found that if she turned sideways, she could just slip in, and when she did, she saw an astonishing thing A very strange man--or at least he see silver hair, and he was quite, quite nude He stood in the light of a s in a brazier"
Her brows arched
"But as strangest of all, was that as Angelica watched, he seemed to vanish When she went to look where he had stood, there lay a giant silver snake, coiled around the base of the brazier" He absently rubbed his index finger, running his thu should be Suddenly he was very tired
"Ah, at last we come to the infaht the weariness in his expression Her own face sobered "How does your back feel?"
Like hell "Plucky, just plucky I think the knife wound may’ve actually improved it"
She watched him for a moment And for the life of hi woht
"Are you ever serious?" she asked
"No," he said "Not ever"
"I thought not" Her eyes were intent on him "Why?"
He looked away He could not sustain that intense, too-perceptive regard "I don’t know Does it matter?"
"I think you do know," she said softly "As to whether or not it mattersWell, that isn’t for me to say"
"Isn’t it?" It was his turn to stare at her, pressuring her to admitwhat? He wasn’t sure
"No," she whispered
He opened his ue further, but some belated sense of self-preservation stopped him
She inhaled "You should rest, and I’ve been keeping you up" His angel shut her book and rose "I sent the letter to your valet yesterday He should receive it soon"
He let his head fall back against the pillows and watched her as she gathered the empty dishes "Thank you, beautiful lady"
She paused by the door and looked back at hi it into a Renaissance painting, el "Are you safe here?"
Her voice was soft, and he had begun to drift into dreams, so he wasn’t sure of the words--hers or his
"I don’t know"
Chapter Three
"Iddesleigh Iddesleigh" Papa frowned as he chewed his gah in the navy when I sailed The Islander five and twenty years ago Midshipht out of port Always hanging over theup his accounts Any relation?"
Lucy suppressed a sigh Papa had been twitting the viscount all through supper Noruests They were a fresh audience for his hoary sea stories, retold countless tihbors, servants, and anyone else ould hold still long enough to listen But sootten her father’s back up This was the first meal the poorthe last four days bedridden The viscount sat at the table appearing urbane and at ease One had to look closely to notice he still favored his right arm
She wouldn’t blaht And that would disappoint her terribly Even though she knew, deep in her soul, that she should stay away fro about hi Perhaps it was merely the novelty of a new person in her narrow circle of acquaintances After all, she’d known the people she saw every day since infancy On the other hand, maybe it was the ht?
"No, I don’t believe so" Lord Iddesleigh answered her father’s question as he helped himself to more boiled potatoes "As a rule, thework Much too taxing, and it has an unfortunate tendency to lead to sweat Wecreaossip"
Then again, Lucy reflected, the youngerhis oith her father Papa’s eyes narrowed ominously
She picked up a basket and waved it under her parent’s nose "More bread? Mrs Brodie baked it fresh this entry, are they?" Papa sawed vigorously at his meat while he spoke "Let others toil on their land, eh? Spend all their time in the sinful fleshpots of London instead?"
Oh, for goodness’ sake! Lucy gave up and set the bread basket down She would enjoy theroom was hopelessly out of date, but it was cozy for all that She tried to focus on her surroundings rather than on the distressing conversation She turned to her left, noting in approval the cheerfully burning fire
"Why, yes, I quite like a fleshpot now and then," Lord Iddesleigh said, setstrings accoan, only to be cut off as Papa snorted She sighed and looked to the other end of the roole door led into the hall and then the kitchen It was so nice that the rooh," the viscount continued, "I must confess I’m a bit hazy on what exactly constitutes a fleshpot"
Lucy’s gaze dropped to the table--the only safe thing to look at in the roo, but that made undy and cream wallpaper before Lucy’d been born, and Papa’s collection of sailing ship prints graced the walls--