Lusus Naturae: A Dark Days Club Novella by Alison Goodman

Author:Alison Goodman [Goodman, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781406381856
Publisher: Walker Books Ltd.
Published: 2017-07-29T04:00:00+00:00

If you enjoyed this exclusive chapter, read on for Lady Helen’s point of view in an extract from

Book One in the Lady Helen trilogy

St James’s Palace London

THURSDAY, 30 APRIL 1812

Keeping the miniature hidden was proving harder than Helen had imagined. The bump and bustle of so many people making their way along the Palace corridor made it almost impossible to move without using both hands to steer her hoop through the melee. It was no easy task to keep hold of gown, train, presentation card, fan and attached miniature all at once.

“For goodness’ sake, don’t bunch your dress so tight,” her aunt said, noticing her death grip on the spangled net. “Here, let me carry something for you.”

Before Aunt could reach for her fan and the hidden miniature, Helen handed over her presentation card. Thankfully, their arrival in the crowded State Room diverted any further offer of help.

“It is going to be a tedious wait,” Aunt said. “The visiting dignitaries will be received first. Still, we should start making our way towards the presentation chamber now. I don’t want to push our way through the entire guest list when your name is called.”

Although it was just past noon and the day was bright, a huge crystal chandelier blazed overhead, the mass of candles adding to the oppressive heat in the room. At the far end, Palace officials milled in the doorway of the Grand Council Chamber, readying themselves for the proceedings. Helen ran a quick eye over the paintings that lined the walls: portraits of Kings, Queens and one particularly handsome pastoral. By Ricci, if she was not mistaken. A pity she would not have the chance to view it properly.

“I think I see a clear space near the door,” Aunt Leonore said loudly in her ear while graciously acknowledging the apology of a gentleman who had set her lilac gown swaying. “Keep close to me, my dear.”

Helen nodded, her hold on the miniature finally secure enough for her to start searching for Millicent. The multitude of shifting gowns and undulating feathers – a dizzying array of pastel pinks, soft purples, whites, creams, stately blues and sudden yellows – made it almost impossible to focus on any one person. Particularly one diminutive blonde amongst so many other diminutive blondes dressed in the paler shades of presentation. Delia’s name suddenly rose up through the chatter, a snide laugh following it. Helen turned to glare at the perpetrator, but whoever it was had already moved past.

“Can you see Millicent?” she asked her aunt.

“La, child, I can barely see who is three in front of us.”

They moved another foot or so forward. Helen, with her superior height, noted a break in the crowd: a wide space had been left around a dark-haired man standing before the huge marble mantelpiece. She caught sight of his face for a moment: young, but made harsh from some kind of suffering, with a savage intensity in his eyes as he scanned the room. There was a coiled quality to him as well, for all his loose-limbed height.

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