A Most Peculiar Season by Michelle Willingham & Deborah Hale & Barbara Monajem & Gail Ranstrom & Ann Lethbridge

A Most Peculiar Season by Michelle Willingham & Deborah Hale & Barbara Monajem & Gail Ranstrom & Ann Lethbridge

Author:Michelle Willingham & Deborah Hale & Barbara Monajem & Gail Ranstrom & Ann Lethbridge
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2016-06-03T04:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER EIGHT

BELOW IN THE shop, Fen pulled himself together with difficulty.

Andromeda didn’t believe in magic anymore. For someone of fairy blood, this was tantamount to existing in a permanent half-light. He wondered when she’d undergone this horrendous transformation, and realized almost immediately that it must be the fault of her father, who’d been embarrassed by his flamboyant wife, and his widowed sister, Andromeda’s Aunt Mattie, who’d come to live with them. Between them, they must have convinced Andromeda that her mother’s talk of fairies was childish nonsense to be forgotten when she grew up. Fen had been away at school and then at Oxford, and after that going wild on the Town. He hadn’t seen much of Andromeda again until she was almost ready for her come-out, so he’d had no idea of how much she’d changed.

“No wonder you left the Gibbons household to live in London with me,” he whispered to Cuff, who nodded sadly back from his perch on a roll-top desk.

But what did all this have to do with not believing in love? Andromeda had once told Fen that she loved him, and that was years and years after her mother’s death.

He wandered into the workshop, inspecting in daylight the job he’d done of destroying one of the legs of that damned bed—marriage bed, as Slough had put it, as if he were some medieval overlord anticipating one of those barbaric public beddings they’d done in olden times. What a contrast to another bed he’d made recently—for Count Grazki, a member of the court of King Vlad. The count had ordered an exquisite bed on the occasion of his marriage, and he’d been truly appreciative of Fen’s efforts—unlike Slough.

If Andromeda didn’t believe in love, then she hadn’t loved Lord Slough. No surprise; the marriage had been a practical one on her part, undertaken for its worldly advantages.

The shop bell rang, and in came the Dowager Lady Shelton and her daughter. Fen sighed inwardly; with Harry officially abroad, he was stuck dealing with all the customers himself. He adjusted his tool belt and entered the showroom with a touch of a bow. He never offered his well-born customers more than the courtesy he would have afforded them before he’d become a tradesman. Show no shame: he’d taken that as a motto right from the start.

“I should like to purchase a secretaire for dear Althea,” Lady Shelton said, adding immediately, “Have you heard the news?”

“I don’t believe I have.” His heart sank even though he knew what to expect. “What news?”

“Miss Gibbons—Andromeda Gibbons, you know—has disappeared!”

It was easy enough to appear incredulous. “How is that possible? I saw her last night at the Corington ball.”

“Exactly so,” Miss Shelton said, nose in the air. “Prancing about on the arm of Lord Slough in the most odious way.”

“Too true,” Lady Shelton said. “She spilled wine on her gown―but then, she always was a clumsy girl.”

What arrant nonsense, but Miss Shelton’s expression said she completely concurred. “She went to change her clothing and never returned.



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