Susan Carroll by The Bride Finder

Author:The Bride Finder
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Branches of candles glowed the length of the mahogany table, the burning wicks reflecting in the crystal goblets and the whimsical china designed by Anatole's own grandfather. TheSt.Leger dragon breathed fire from the center of each plate, cup, and saucer.

Will Sparkins filled the wineglasses, strutting about in his new powdered wig and gold-trimmed black livery. The lad had cleaned up to be quite a comely young man, his thatch of hair trimmed away to reveal Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

a pair of sweet blue eyes.

The transformation ofWill was at least one goodMadeline had accomplished since coming to Castle Leger. Perhaps the only one, she feared.

She tried to relax, to smile at her guests, but she'd never been much good at this sort of thing. She sought to remember everything she'd observed in her mother about playing the role of gracious hostess.

However, Mama had never held a dinner quite like this one, with dragons snarling out from the china, her only companions a cadre of men who looked more apt to dive for their swords instead of their forks.

There was a tension in the air that threatened to rival the storm gathering outside. Dark undercurrents swirled all about Madeline, which she scarce understood, only felt.

She picked at the fricandeau of veal on her plate, her gaze traveling to where Anatole sat at the far end of the table, his face cast in shadows as he sipped his wine in brooding silence.

She thought wistfully back to the other suppers they'd shared this past week, alone. Detesting formality, Anatole had dragged his plate down to her end of the table. He'd eaten heartily, allowing her to talk, which she feared she had done in abundance. But that companionable silence was far different from the grim one he'd adopted now, making him more remote from her than ever.

Somehow the tension seemed to have crept in, clinging to the coattails of one man. The glittering gentleman seated to her left.

Roman St. Leger.

Madeline scarce knew what to make of Roman, with his handsome face, smooth manners, and smiles that never quite melted the winter in his eyes. He was different from the other St. Legers, she thought, studying his flawless profile.

From Anatole down to young Caleb, they all had an otherworldly quality about them, an arresting, unforgettable something that Madeline could not quite define. A something that Roman lacked.

Becoming aware of her intent regard, his eyes met hers across the rim of his wineglass, his mouth twitching with amusement.

"Shall I turn the other cheek, cousin?" he asked. "So you may study my left profile as well?"

"Oh, n-no." Madeline lowered her gaze, blushing furiously at being caught out.

"But you were staring at me with such a confused frown on your lovely face. Is there something about me that puzzles you?"

A great deal, Madeline thought, if she were permitted to speak the truth. Such as why Anatole had appeared reluctant to admit his own cousin to the house? And why had the mention of the mere words Lost Land set all the St.

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