A TOUCH OF MAGIC (ENCHANTED HEIRESSES #3) BY RITA BOUCHER – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Rita Boucher
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Romance
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- Size: 6.6 MB
- Price: Free
LONDON, WINTER 1817
London was blanketed with a layer of fresh-fallen snow. In the face of
the bitter chill, the streets were almost empty. Indeed, there were
more than a few who predicted that the Thames would freeze solid as
it had years before. Those who had the luxury of a warm hearth and no
compelling reason to be abroad were enjoying their good fortune.
Genevieve Dale was not among those so blessed.
She huddled in the cab of her carriage, hoping that the ride would not be
much longer. Neither her gloves nor her well-worn wool cloak sufficed
against the biting wind that buffeted the vehicle’s poorly shielded windows
and badly hung doors. Because she had anticipated being delivered directly
to the front door of Wodesby House, the clothing beneath was better suited
to a ballroom than a journey through a gathering storm.
Her sole concession to the weather had been a pair of stout boots. The
slippers that matched her gown sat on the bench beside her, carefully
wrapped to prevent them from coming to ruin. The temptation to cast a
small heating spell was strong, but she had no jewel for focus and she was
reluctant to waste any of her reserve of power tonight. Besides, the illusion
of warmth in foul weather was a dangerous one. Many a witch had lost toes
or fingers due to frostbite when the desire for false comfort overcame good
sense.
“Good sense, indeed!” A cloud of warm breath rose to the roof with her
self-deprecating mutter.
She was half-tempted to rap on the box and ask the jarvey to turn
around, but then she would be forced to endure the scolding that was sure to
come when her familiar discovered that she had chosen to turn craven.
There was no feline contempt greater than that of a Chartreux cat raised in
the alleyways of Marseille.
They despised cowards.
“This is absurd, grandson!” Lady Morgan’s voice rose above the clatter
of the carriage wheels. “I cannot imagine why you need to put a disguise on
top of a disguise. You will be wearing a domino and that ridiculously dismal
black and white evening garb that somehow persists as de riguer despite
that man milliner Brummel’s exile. No one will recognize you, surely.”
“The diamonds you wear are akin to a fireworks display, Grandmama.
Only an orchestra in the pit playing Handel is lacking,” Etienne said,
fastening his borrowed greatcoat. While the smell made it obvious that the
footman was overly fond of cheap cheroots, his winter garment was clean
and free of vermin. “Despite your mask, they cannot fail to identify you and
speculate upon who your companion might be.”
“Pah!” She gave a dismissive wave. “For all anyone knows, you are still
moldering away in hiding on your Yorkshire estate.”
Etienne was about to deny hiding, but it was useless to argue with a
statement that they both knew to be the truth. “Those who have been trying
to entice me to be a part of their web of intrigue against Lord Wodesby
would not dare to approach me openly, especially if I am the meat in
tonight’s dish of scandal broth.
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