The Lord of Stariel by A. J. Lancaster

Author:A. J. Lancaster [Lancaster, A. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07HD681WN
Goodreads: 41838393
Publisher: Camberion Press
Published: 2018-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

23

Fairy Tales

The Valstars, by birth and by marriage, bore a striking resemblance to a mob when assembled in Carnelian Hall—the largest room in the house—even with many of the family having left after the Choosing. Only the youngest members of the clan had been barred from the meeting. Little Laurel protested loudly that it wasn’t fair, that there was something interesting happening, and that she wanted to know what it was, but Aunt Sybil shushed her so ferociously that she allowed herself to be bundled out of the room in sullen silence.

Hetta had never been one for giving speeches, but she’d watched Bradfield give them frequently enough to improvise. Of course, Bradfield’s speeches had been mainly given to inspire good performances. Without thinking, Hetta caught herself taking on something of the theatre director’s pomposity.

“I have called you all here to tell you something highly unusual and, in fact, unbelievable. Once I have explained myself further, I have no doubt that you’ll all want proof of my assertions, so I say now that I have it and that you may all see it once I have laid out the facts of the case to you. I do this in the hope of preventing interruptions.” Hetta met each of her relatives’ eyes for emphasis. It probably wouldn’t prevent them from interrupting, but there was no harm in trying.

Marius frowned and jerked his head in a fierce negative when she met his eyes. He thought this was about the lordship and the Star Stone. Wyn was trying his best to be unobtrusive at the back of the room. So far, no one had questioned his presence there. He wasn’t using glamour to achieve that, was he? She didn’t think so—there was no hint of that odd stormy atmosphere from when he’d used it before—but it was an uneasy thought nonetheless. He gave a resigned smile when her attention passed over him.

“I’m afraid that the lady we have been hosting these past few days is something of an imposter,” she said.

Gregory made a sudden, indignant movement, but Jack spoke before he could.

“You mean Miss Gwen,” Jack said calmly. The tiniest trace of amusement threaded through his next words. “I don’t think many of us would be shocked to learn her name isn’t Smith.”

There was a wordless murmur of agreement from several family members, and Lady Phoebe spoke. “It’s all highly irregular, but one cannot help pity the poor girl.”

Gregory gave his mother an approving glance and once again would have spoken, but Hetta held out a hand to forestall him.

“No, Jack, as you’ve pointed out, I think we all know that Smith is an assumed name. I initially thought it was for her own peace of mind that she wouldn’t tell us where she fled from. I was mistaken, however. She came to us with the intention of deliberate deception. I’m afraid Miss Gwen is not the innocent girl that she appears.”

Aunt Sybil was nodding along to these words as if they confirmed her every suspicion, but her bobbing motion abruptly cut off at Hetta’s next words.

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