Flowers For The Devil by Vlad Kahany EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Vlad Kahany
- Language: English
- Genre: Vigilante Justice
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
VANITY FAIR
AUGUST 1851
Countess Alina Bronskaya downed a glass of champagne and scanned
the crowded ballroom. The chandelier lights were blinding but failed
to erase the images of blood that still flickered in her mind like pictures in a
horror book.
Blood.
A limp body on the ground.
And him—the dark shadow looming over her.
“Are you all right?”
Alina inhaled deeply, trying to calm the tremors in her body.
Adorned in gold and white and decorated with an extraordinary amount
of fresh flowers, the ballroom was one of London’s finest. Simmering in
sparkling splendor and late August warmth, its floor-to-ceiling windows
overlooked the crowded terrace, illuminated brightly by dozens of lanterns.
It was much too late, and the ball was already in full swing.
Alina hadn’t had time to properly prepare for the party. No bath. No
creams. Barely any makeup. Her hair had smelled of chloride and burnt
coal when she’d gotten home, and she had to brush the so-hated pomade
into it.
“The dress! Quick!” she had hurried her maid, Martha, who scrambled
with laces and jewelry.
Alina had doused herself with perfume to disguise the traces of
medication stench and rushed out of the house.
Her heart still raced at the memories, but champagne helped as she
scanned the crowded room. So did the loud music, drowning the sound of
the shadow’s low voice in her head.
“Are you able to walk?”
Ladies and lords, stuffed into silks and feathers and excessive jewelry,
were quite tipsy. Orchestra music laced with laughter and loud chatter
vibrated through the ballroom crowded with powdered faces.
Lady Amstel’s balls were jolly affairs even after the Season. But the
wealthy could smell “poor.” And Alina’s work was cheap indeed—in St
Rose’s hospital on the edge of St. Giles, the invisible line that separated the
very poor and the more fortunate.
Her mother, Anna Yakovlevna Kameneva, floated toward her with a
well-practiced smile that hid disdain, her cold eyes sweeping up and down
Alina’s dress.
“You look like a merchant’s daughter,” her mother murmured with a
thick Russian accent, the giant ruby necklace adorning her neck hissing
with its devilish sparkle. “Could you not think of anything better to wear?”
She squinted in reproach at her daughter’s modest topaz choker and
shifted to stand next to her, facing the crowded room. Her lavish burgundy
dress was like a bouquet of flowers compared to Alina’s simple light-green
evening gown, worn twice in a row in the last month. Anna Yakovlevna was
the best example of true Russian nobility with its flair for chic and
overbearing displays of wealth, be it jewelry or furs or golden goblets at
their house parties.
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