Ambush or Adore by Carriger Gail

Author:Carriger, Gail [Carriger, Gail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Romance, Historical, Paranormal, Adult, Vampires
ISBN: 9781944751203
Goodreads: 58677004
Publisher: Gail Carriger
Published: 2021-10-01T07:00:00+00:00

April 1863 ~ A garret in Oxford

Dimity’s hand was still flowery, but the slant had become more pronounced over the years. This particular missive from his sister was distinctly lacking in chattiness. There was none of her usual prattle about people he did not know, and fashions he did not follow. Instead, it was just two lines.

Brother dear, I have to go away.

Could you come and look after my plants for me?

Yours etc., Dimity

Dimity didn’t own any plants. But sometimes there was a wallflower under her roof.

Pillover packed that night. He left a note with the college steward for his professor informing him that there was a family emergency and that he would be gone to town for a week. He apologized deeply and said he would try to do some translation work while he was away.

He caught the morning train from Oxford into London.

His sister and Agatha being in their mid-twenties now, and his presence expected as escort in Dimity’s case, it was generally assumed the town residence was actually owned by Pillover. A younger brother, transient though he might be, was sufficient to render the two ladies autonomous. The chaperone had been retired to the countryside with sufficient means to keep her in gin and stockings. The two not-so-young ladies were now thought of as near enough to spinsters to make no odds. Pillover supposed that being in their mid-twenties, society regarded them as quite long in the tooth for females of the species. Which seemed ridiculous to Pillover (but then, so was most of society).

Accordingly, with his sister gone and no chaperone, the house was dead quiet when Pillover arrived. The fire was cold in the grate and there was no one around, not even a charwoman.

He made his way through to the spare room, where he tossed his bag, and then heard a muffled, chattering whimper. Greatly daring, he knocked at Agatha’s door. When no one answered, he pushed inside.

She was tossing in bed, sweating and fevered. He sat on the counterpane to touch her forehead, finding it much hotter than he liked. Her eyes popped open. She tried to focus on his face, but struggled.

“Pill? That you?”

“That me. What’s wrong with you?”

“Just sick.”

“Not an injury gone septic?” If this were an infection, he would need to lance the wound and summon a surgeon.

“If I promise not, will you still insist on stripping me to check?”

Pillover made a face. “I am a gentleman. I will take your word for it. But promise me. Don’t be stupid. If it is an injury, I should call someone to treat it.”

Agatha sported a fresh scratch along her lower cheek and jaw and there were bruises on her neck, as if someone had tried to strangle her. “I’m only battered about a bit. This is a bad cold, nothing more.”

Pillover narrowed his eyes at her. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Well then, let me think. What do you need? Liquids of some sort. Broth? Hot water and lemon, perhaps? Brandy? Calf’s foot jelly,

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