Whisper of Jasmine by Deanna Raybourn

Author:Deanna Raybourn [Raybourn, Deanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Historical, Romance, General
ISBN: 9781472074973
Google: 8jBiAgAAQBAJ
Publisher: HarperCollins UK
Published: 2014-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Downstairs, Delilah handed a fresh glass of punch to Quentin Harkness.

“Don’t be too sad, dear boy. I can’t imagine where Evie has taken herself off to, but I know you’ll love her. She’s adorable! Very pretty, just like me, but much nicer. And she might seem like a sweet little homebody, but mark my words—she’s got a taste for adventure.”

Quentin sipped at his punch. “This is poisonous stuff, Delilah.”

She laughed merrily by way of reply and topped off his glass.

“How can you tell this Evie is adventuresome anyway?”

Delilah shrugged. “I can smell it on her. The same way I can smell it on you.”

Quentin’s handsome brows lifted in mock astonishment. “Whatever do you mean? I am a solicitor. I assure you, there’s no less adventuresome occupation on the planet.”

Delilah laughed again. “Protest all you want to, Quentin, but I know better. For those of us who dream about living large, it doesn’t matter what you do to us. You can stick us in dry little careers like law or business or make us wives and mothers, but we will always find each other. Like calls to like, my boy, no matter how much you try to fight it. There’s a rougarou in you.”

“What’s that when it’s at home?” he asked mildly. Talking to Delilah was always like trying to capture lightning in a bottle.

“A rougarou is a wolf-man. He’s the dark thing Louisiana parents terrify their children with to make them behave. He comes for all the bad little boys and girls and gobbles them up, but if you’re really bad,” she leant closer, pitching her voice low, “really, really bad, the rougarou turns you into one of his own.”

“And you think I’m bad? Really, Delilah, you are too much.” Quentin looked genuinely offended and Delilah laughed again, leaving one of her trademark crimson lipstick prints on his cheek.

“No, not really. But I do think you’re keeping secrets. You’re up to something, Quentin. I can smell it on you just like I can smell wildness on Evie Merryweather. That girl’s going to kick over the traces one of these days and do something so breathtakingly audacious it will be the making of her.”

“In that case, perhaps it’s best if we don’t meet,” Quentin put in smoothly. “In spite of your fancies, I promise you I am the very picture of staid respectability.”

“You keep saying it, doll. Maybe one of these days you’ll persuade yourself but you’ll never convince me.” She nodded towards the corner where Tarquin stood polishing his spectacles as he paged slowly through a book on fossils. “Although if you spend much more time with that fellow Tarquin, I might be forced to change my mind. I know he’s your friend, but I don’t think I’ve ever met a duller man in my life.”

“Oh, Tarquin’s all right,” Quentin protested.

“He’s a blancmange in human form,” she said waspishly. “Now, go entertain him before he brings down any of my guests. Give him some punch, for heaven’s sake, or

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