What Angels Fear by C. S. Harris EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: C. S. Harris
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Tuesday, 29 January 1811
Sebastian could hear the tolling of the city’s church bells, counting out the
hour; dull echoes of sound muffled by distance and the acrid fog that, even
here, hugged the open ground and shrouded the bare, reaching branches of
the stand of elms that grew at the edge of the field. Dawn had come, but it
brought little warmth or light. Sebastian Alistair St. Cyr, Viscount Devlin,
only surviving son and heir to the Earl of Hendon, propped his shoulders
against the high side of his curricle, crossed his arms at his chest, and
thought about his bed.
It had been a long night, a night of brandy fumes and cigar smoke, of
faro and vingt-et-un and a promise made to a sad-eyed woman—a promise
that he would not kill, however much the man he had come here to meet
might deserve killing. Sebastian tipped back his head and closed his eyes.
He could hear the sweet call of a lark at the far end of the field and, nearer,
the steady swish, swish of wet grass as his second, Sir Christopher Farrell,
paced back and forth in the roadside’s verge. Suddenly, the footsteps
stopped.
“Maybe he won’t show,” said Sir Christopher.
Sebastian kept his eyes closed. “He’ll show.”
The pacing resumed. Back and forth, boot heels squelching in the
damp earth.
“If you’re not careful,” said Sebastian, “you’re going to get mud on
your boots.”
“To hell with my boots. Are you certain Talbot is bringing a doctor?
How good of a doctor? Maybe we should have brought our own doctor.”
Sebastian lowered his head and opened his eyes. “I don’t intend to get
shot.”
Sir Christopher swung about, his fair hair curling wildly in the damp
mist, his normally soft gray eyes dilated. “Right. Well, that’s reassuring.
Doubtless Lord Firth had every intention of not getting shot when he stood
up against Maynard last month. Pity, of course, that the bullet went through
his neck.”
Sebastian smiled.
“I’m delighted to see I’m amusing you. This is another of those
advantages of having gone to war, is it? Staring with calm disdain into the
face of death? Ranks right up there with being rendered irresistibly
fascinating to members of the fair sex.”
Sebastian laughed out loud.
Christopher smiled himself, then resumed his silent pacing, a slim,
flawlessly tailored figure in buckskins and high-gloss top boots and welllaundered linen. After another moment, he said, “I still don’t understand
why you didn’t choose swords. Less chance of someone accidentally
getting killed with swords.” Lifting his left arm in a fencer’s pose, he
pantomimed a quick thrust against the cold, misty air. “A neat little pink
through the shoulder, a bloody scratch on the arm, and honor is satisfied.”
“Talbot intends to kill me.”
Christopher let his arms fall to his sides. “So you’re just going to stand
there and let him take a shot at you?”
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