THE NIGHT CREATURE AT STORNE HOPE (GRAYSON SHERBROOKE’S OTHERWORLDLY ADVENTURES #7) BY CATHERINE COULTER – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Catherine Coulter
- Language: English
- Genre: Thriller / Suspense
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Holland Square
London, England
Late April 1842
Thomas Oliver Maxwell Strickland, newly minted sixth Earl of Storne,
opened his armoire to pull out a fresh linen shirt only to see his shirts
dumped in an untidy pile at the bottom. He started to call for Manfred, his
valet since his first year at Oxford a decade before, but then, to his
astonishment, the shirts shifted, just a bit.
A varmint in his grandfather’s precious mahogany armoire? No, more
likely beneath the pile of shirts was Clotis the cat, usually found napping in
Max’s mother’s sewing basket, his orange tail flopped over the side, the
occasional twitch to give proof of life. At least half a dozen shirts now
would have to be ironed again by Manfred, who would certainly make his
displeasure known. How had Clotis managed to even get in the armoire?
Max went down on his haunches, reached out his hand, and lightly
rubbed the pile of shirts. “Come on, Clotis, show me a whisker, tell me how
you managed to pull down all my shirts. Will I find claw marks?”
He didn’t hear Clotis’s high-pitched meow—he heard a human sort of
squeak, a young human sort of squeak.
How had a stray child gotten into his bachelor stronghold while he’d
been out? He said to the shirts, “I believe there must be a trapped rodent
beneath my shirts. This calls for drastic action—ah, yes, the fireplace poker
will dispatch the varmint.”
He waited.
Nothing.
It had been a long time—too long a time, really—since Max had felt
engaged. He was engaged now. “All right, let’s see first exactly what’s
hiding here in my once perfectly ironed shirts.”
The top shirt moved. Two terrified eyes appeared; the rest of the face
remained covered by white linen.
“Ah, so what I have is neither Clotis the cat nor a rat, more like a small
human varmint. May I inquire why you are currently residing under my
shirts in my armoire?”
A very young voice whispered, “How could a rat get into an armoire?
The door was firmly closed until I opened it, and it was hard, the door was
sticking. You should see to it.”
A well-bred voice—a scared, well-bred, very young voice. Male?
Female? He couldn’t tell. Max said, looking into those gray eyes, “I’ve
heard rodents are very wily, their teeth sharp. Give them wooden handles
and they’ll turn them into sawdust. I’ve also heard they’re partial to white
linen shirts.”
Now the young voice sounded aggrieved. “That is nonsense and you
know it. I would have been gone if you hadn’t come into the room at this
particular moment. All I needed was another two minutes to borrow one of
these lovely white shirts since my own shirt is in disrepair and I’d have
been out the window and gone.
I promise I wouldn’t have stolen anything. I
mean, what is there to steal? Very well, I’ll not lie, I did look, but there
wasn’t a single shilling on your dressing table.”
“Why would you want one of my shirts? It would be a tent on you. You
would look like a ghost.”
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