One Wicked Night by Sari Robins

Author:Sari Robins
Language: ron
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Published: 2009-04-07T07:11:17+00:00

* * *

Lillian stepped through the threshold, careful not

to be seen. She understood that she should follow

Nick’s instructions, but somehow her feet managed

to enter the hallway of their own accord. Part of her recognized that she bristled at being ordered about.

But truly, she couldn’t help it; her very fiber would not allow her to sit by idly while Nick’s and

Lancelot’s futures hung in the balance.

Servants parted before Nick and stared after him

in his wake. The air fairly crackled with urgency,

and Lillian realized that her heart was beating rap-

idly with apprehension. She had no idea what Nick

was up to and prayed that it was not folly. She had

faith in him, yes, but this was the queen’s favorite

dog that had been abducted.

A servant scurried past and she spun around, pre-

tending to be casually examining a tapestry. Turn-

ing, she peered out the long corridor as Nick, Hogan

and two burly servants marched down the passage

like a small army preparing for battle. She scuttled

down the long hallway after them, her shoes silent

on the thick carpets. If Nick turned around, she

wondered if she would drop to the ground, a pillar

of salt, Nick’s wrath come down from the heavens to

smite her. She stifled a mental giggle at the thought.

Egad, she was as skittish as a fox.

Nick led them down the hall to the servants’ stair-

case. Lillian tried telling herself that she had come far enough and would cease this fool’s quest. But

soon she found herself at the top of the stairs and

eyeing the open doors of the room that Nick and

Hogan had just entered.

Could she dare?

The large room had pale-colored walls and a

266

SARI ROBINS

sundry of mismatched but expensive furniture

placed throughout. It was the servants’ salon, Lil-

lian realized, with finer furnishings than were to

be found in some of Society’s London homes. She

slipped inside, hoping to be unobtrusive near the

wall by the door.

Two housemaids huddled in a far corner, but

upon seeing Nick and his party, they immediately

rose and drifted out. Mr. Glen’s carrot-topped head

could be seen cresting an armchair facing the

hearth. Wilson stood before him, cap in his hand,

his brown hair mussed and hanging in his eyes.

“I say . . .” Wilson sputtered.

Glen spun around in his seat and then stood. “I

pray to the Lord you have news of our Lancelot?”

Mr. Glen asked anxiously.

“Take off your gloves, Mr. Glen,” Nick demanded.

“What?” he cried, his pale cheeks quacking with

agitation.

“I wish to see your injuries.”

“I don’t understand,” Glen cried, his eyes di-

rected at Hogan.

“I insist you take off your gloves, Mr. Glen,” Nick

urged.

“Why?”

“Because I wish to see the injuries you claim to

have gotten while searching the bushes for Lancelot.”

“I must protest, sir,” Glen implored Hogan. “I am

hurt—”

“Do as he says, Mr. Glen,” Hogan replied stonily.

Glen bristled. “You will take this . . . character’s

word—”

Nick stepped forward, menace in his every move-

ment. “If you don’t take off your gloves, then I will take them off for you.”

ONE WICKED NIGHT

267

“All right. All right. But I will not forget this in-

dignity.”

Wilson’s eyes flew from Nick to Glen, to Hogan

and back to Glen, uncertainty in his brown gaze.

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