Read Online Haunted Hearts by Teresa DesJardien - Free Book Online

was more pronounced in response to his uneasiness. “’E is expecting me.” Not exactly . “Is ‘e ‘ere, or no?”
    The butler straightened even more than his already correct posture would seemingly allow. “When he wishes it, I will be glad to inform my lord of your call, if you would be so good as to give me your name, sir?”
    Georges gathered his wits. He was not going to be admitted, and who could blame the servant? A masked man at the front door?
    I am become too visible, Georges fretted. It had never been planned he’d go inside at the masquerade, but Lord Ewald, supposedly dressed as a king, had never appeared out of doors. And now here Georges was, at the man’s very home.
    “Please,” he said, folding his hands together in a prayer-like gesture. “Please to tell the viscount, and only the viscount, my message. This message, exactement ! Tell him…,” he hesitated, striving to find a message that would say all and yet very little to the casual ear. “Tell him ‘ze cat has come home.’ ”
    “ ‘The cat has come home,’ sir?”
    “ Oui …yes.”
    “I shall do so, sir.”
    Georges nodded, staring at the door as it closed politely but firmly to him. These English servants had very curious ideas as to who ran the household, but there was something in this man’s demeanor and in the sudden light of comprehension in his eyes that implied he would fulfill his charge as stated. Bien. “The cat has come home” was a completely innocuous statement; but le vicomte would know his duty was not yet discharged, that Georges’s need was still great, that he had made his way to le vicomte despite missing him at the masquerade.
    Georges slipped back into his hired hansom cab and ordered the driver to take him to a quiet part of town to find a room for the night. He only hoped his meager supply of English coins would hold out until he could, finally, come in contact with the designated Englishman.
    ***
    As Georges’ carriage pulled away from Lord Ewald’s residence, a mounted rider urged his horse away from Viscountess Stratton’s home just before she was helped down from a carriage of her own.
    Now it was back to report to Lord Quinn, as he’d been ordered to do by that woman, Miss Lyons. The rider grimaced; he didn’t care for Lord Quinn’s newest compatriot. In point of fact, he might have pretended to lose sight of Lady Stratton’s carriage as he’d followed her from his master’s house to her own, out of spite. Quinn’s hostess was sharp-tongued and imperious, whereas Lady Stratton looked young and innocent. But, too, given Lady Stratton’s uninhibited laughter and garb this night, he could only assume she was of the kind that made up Lord Quinn’s more private circle. God knew, there were those who liked the peculiar, wicked games of his master’s sort.
    If the rider had shaken his head and clucked his tongue to himself, mildly shocked to have learned the cat’s identity, it was no bigger a shock than some of the others he’d had in Lord Quinn’s employ.
    ***
    Olivia went onto her knees, as she did every night just before taking to her bed, to offer up her prayers. For a moment she mumbled the words of the Lord’s Prayer, but as she finished, it was not on the prayer her thoughts lingered, but on the feeling of arms around her, and lips upon her mouth.
    She’d felt she should, but she couldn’t really pray, at least not to forget or to be forgiven. She’d do it all again without a second thought. For it was impossible to believe she must deny the night that had awakened her once again to all the wonders of being alive. It was illogical to rue what she looked upon as a gift, a wonderful, glorious gift. The man’s touch on her body had awakened every sense, every part of her slumbering soul, had reminded her life was for living, and that she was right to go out into the world if she wished to be a part of it. She’d been given a starting point, a new beginning, on which to build the