she had handled the encounter, and still suffering from oxygen deprivation, her grin quickly turned to a giggle. To her alarm, she found herself unable to stop.
“Oh, that does hurt . . .”
She and William had arrived at half past eight. Their lateness, while fashionable, had been Tamara’s fault, not William’s; he would do anything to avoid a public faux pas. But after her visit with “Father,” it had taken her several minutes to clear her mind. By the time she was ready to leave the house, William was so red-faced it seemed as if he was caught in a fit of apoplexy.
Even then, she was mightily distracted by both the repugnant filth that had spewed from the demon’s lips, and by the insinuation Oblis had made. The implication was that he might still communicate with other demons, other Vapors, and that he could observe the workings of the malign forces that hovered over Albion even from that locked room on the third floor of Ludlow House. The thought unnerved her.
You’ll need me soon enough, he’d said. Tamara found the idea deeply unsettling. If they ever truly needed help from Oblis, surely they were already doomed.
His insinuations were usually merely a way for him to play with their minds, but Tamara knew they could not discount the possibility that the demon knew something. And if there was some new evil on the rise, well, she and William would have to look into it.
Those thoughts had been weighing heavily upon her throughout the night. Soon after they had arrived at No. 15 Half Moon Street and made their hellos to Marjorie Winterton, Tamara had taken leave of her brother and begun to wander alone through the beautiful Georgian town house. Her thoughts were too grim for her to be very sociable.
Unhappily for Marjorie, her husband’s business these days lay in Virginia, and he was forced to travel frequently, leaving his young wife to her own devices for fortnights at a time. Indeed, Marjorie had put together this dinner party as a diversion. She had once told Tamara that parties were the only things that relieved the monotony of her lonely days.
The dinner bell began to chime. With a distinctly unladylike grunt she heaved herself away from the comfortable love seat, glad that dinner was forthcoming, but worried about where she would put the food, since her stomach seemed to be compressed to the size of a walnut. Perhaps she would ask Marjorie’s maid to loosen her ties before dinner.
W ILLIAM SAT STIFFLY in his chair and stared at Lord Delwood. They had been conferring about the old man’s holdings in Barbados. Normally William would have been eager for the discussion. It was just the sort of business he had been attempting to nurture since he had taken the reins at Swift’s of London, tapping into the enormous financial opportunities developing around the world. This evening, however, he was so preoccupied that all he could do was hope that he was nodding and mm-hmming in all the right places.
His memories of Sophia’s afternoon visit to his office were driving him to distraction. Even now he found his thoughts returning to the way she had slid onto his desk, the nearness of her thigh to his hand, the taste of her lips—
Oh, that’s quite enough!
“Young man? Young man! ” Lord Delwood’s face was a patchwork of angry, broken capillaries. “Are you listening to me, Mr. Swift?”
William snapped back into the moment and nodded mutely.
“Sir, Lord Delwood, of course—” he stammered, but it was too late. The old man wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“Just like you young fellows. Head in the clouds, heart in your mouth. Bah!” Lord Delwood exclaimed, spraying saliva in William’s face. The old man’s breath was abominable, like overcooked liver and onions. But William had regained his composure, so he simply smiled politely and nodded.
“Of course, Lord Delwood, you are absolutely correct in your estimation. The youth of today do nothing but laze about,” William replied,
“Oh, that does hurt . . .”
She and William had arrived at half past eight. Their lateness, while fashionable, had been Tamara’s fault, not William’s; he would do anything to avoid a public faux pas. But after her visit with “Father,” it had taken her several minutes to clear her mind. By the time she was ready to leave the house, William was so red-faced it seemed as if he was caught in a fit of apoplexy.
Even then, she was mightily distracted by both the repugnant filth that had spewed from the demon’s lips, and by the insinuation Oblis had made. The implication was that he might still communicate with other demons, other Vapors, and that he could observe the workings of the malign forces that hovered over Albion even from that locked room on the third floor of Ludlow House. The thought unnerved her.
You’ll need me soon enough, he’d said. Tamara found the idea deeply unsettling. If they ever truly needed help from Oblis, surely they were already doomed.
His insinuations were usually merely a way for him to play with their minds, but Tamara knew they could not discount the possibility that the demon knew something. And if there was some new evil on the rise, well, she and William would have to look into it.
Those thoughts had been weighing heavily upon her throughout the night. Soon after they had arrived at No. 15 Half Moon Street and made their hellos to Marjorie Winterton, Tamara had taken leave of her brother and begun to wander alone through the beautiful Georgian town house. Her thoughts were too grim for her to be very sociable.
Unhappily for Marjorie, her husband’s business these days lay in Virginia, and he was forced to travel frequently, leaving his young wife to her own devices for fortnights at a time. Indeed, Marjorie had put together this dinner party as a diversion. She had once told Tamara that parties were the only things that relieved the monotony of her lonely days.
The dinner bell began to chime. With a distinctly unladylike grunt she heaved herself away from the comfortable love seat, glad that dinner was forthcoming, but worried about where she would put the food, since her stomach seemed to be compressed to the size of a walnut. Perhaps she would ask Marjorie’s maid to loosen her ties before dinner.
W ILLIAM SAT STIFFLY in his chair and stared at Lord Delwood. They had been conferring about the old man’s holdings in Barbados. Normally William would have been eager for the discussion. It was just the sort of business he had been attempting to nurture since he had taken the reins at Swift’s of London, tapping into the enormous financial opportunities developing around the world. This evening, however, he was so preoccupied that all he could do was hope that he was nodding and mm-hmming in all the right places.
His memories of Sophia’s afternoon visit to his office were driving him to distraction. Even now he found his thoughts returning to the way she had slid onto his desk, the nearness of her thigh to his hand, the taste of her lips—
Oh, that’s quite enough!
“Young man? Young man! ” Lord Delwood’s face was a patchwork of angry, broken capillaries. “Are you listening to me, Mr. Swift?”
William snapped back into the moment and nodded mutely.
“Sir, Lord Delwood, of course—” he stammered, but it was too late. The old man wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“Just like you young fellows. Head in the clouds, heart in your mouth. Bah!” Lord Delwood exclaimed, spraying saliva in William’s face. The old man’s breath was abominable, like overcooked liver and onions. But William had regained his composure, so he simply smiled politely and nodded.
“Of course, Lord Delwood, you are absolutely correct in your estimation. The youth of today do nothing but laze about,” William replied,
Similar Books
Abandoned in Hell : The Fight for Vietnam's Firebase Kate (9780698144262)
Joseph L. (FRW) Marvin; Galloway William; Wolf Albracht
