Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) Painter, Kristen (historical books to read txt) 📖

age six, had nodded politely at the nice silver-haired gentleman. Then she had made certain to read oodles of ancient Greek philosophy dealing with reason, logic, and ethics. If she had no soul, she also had no morals, so she reckoned she had best develop some kind of alternative. Her mama thought her a blue stocking, which was soulless enough as far as Mrs. Loontwill was concerned, and was terribly upset by her eldest daughter’s propensity for libraries. It would be too bothersome to have to face her mama in one just now.

Lord Maccon moved purposefully toward the door with the clear intention of acquiring Mrs. Loontwill.

Alexia caved with ill grace. ‘Oh, very well!’ She settled herself with a rustle of green skirts onto a peach brocade chesterfield near the window.

The earl was both amused and annoyed to see that she had managed to pick up her fainting pillow and place it back on the couch without his registering any swooping movement.

‘I came into the library for tea. I was promised food at this ball. In case you had not noticed, no food appears to be in residence.’

Lord Maccon who required a considerable amount of fuel, mostly of the protein inclination, had noticed. ‘The Duke of Snodgrove is notoriously reticent about any additional expenditure at his wife’s balls. Victuals were probably not on the list of acceptable offerings.’ He sighed. ‘The man owns half of Berkshire and cannot even provide a decent sandwich.’

Miss Tarabotti made an empathetic movement with both hands. ‘My point precisely! So you will understand that I had to resort to ordering my own repast. Did you expect me to starve?’

The earl gave her generous curves a rude once-over, observed that Miss Tarabotti was nicely padded in exactly the right places, and refused to be suckered into becoming sympathetic. He maintained his frown. ‘I suspect that is precisely what the vampire was thinking when he found you without a chaperone. An unmarried female alone in a room in this enlightened day and age! Why, if the moon had been full, even I would have attacked you!’

Alexia gave him the once-over and reached for her brass parasol. ‘My dear sir, I should like to see you try.’

Being Alpha made Lord Maccon a tad unprepared for such bold rebuttals, even with his Scottish past. He blinked at her in surprise for a split second and then resumed the verbal attack. ‘You do realize modern social mores exist for a reason?’

‘I was hungry; allowances should be made,’ Alexia said, as if that settled the matter, unable to understand why he persisted in harping on about it.

Professor Lyall, unobserved by the other two, was busy fishing about in his waistcoat for something. Eventually, he produced a mildly beaten-up ham and pickle sandwich wrapped in a bit of brown paper. He presented it to Miss Tarabotti, ever the gallant.

Under normal circumstances, Alexia would have been put off by the disreputable state of the sandwich, but it was meant so kindly and offered with such diffidence, she could do nothing but accept. It was actually rather tasty.

‘This is delicious!’ she stated, surprised.

Professor Lyall grinned. ‘I keep them around for when his lordship gets particularly testy. Such offerings keep the beast under control for the most part.’ He frowned and then added a caveat. ‘Excepting at full moon, of course. Would that a nice ham and pickle sandwich was all it took then.’

Miss Tarabotti perked up, interested. ‘What do you do at full moon?’

Lord Maccon knew very well Miss Tarabotti was getting off the point intentionally. Driven beyond endurance, he resorted to use of her first name. ‘Alexia!’ It was a long, polysyllabic, drawn-out growl.

She waved the sandwich at him. ‘Uh, do you want half of this, my lord?’

His frown became even darker, if such a thing could be conceived.

Professor Lyall pushed his glassicals up onto the brim of his top hat, where they looked like a strange second set of mechanical eyes, and stepped into the breach. ‘Miss Tarabotti, I do not believe you quite realize the delicacy of this situation. Unless we can establish strong grounds for self-defense by proving the vampire was behaving in a wholly irrational manner, you could be facing murder charges.’

Alexia swallowed her bite of sandwich so quickly she partly choked and started to cough. ‘What?’

Lord Maccon turned his fierce frown on his second. ‘Now who is being too direct for the lady’s sensibilities?’

Lord Maccon was relatively new to the London area. He had arrived a social unknown, challenged for Woolsey Castle Alpha, and won. He gave young ladies heart palpitations, even outside his wolf form, with a favorable combination of mystery, preeminence, and danger. Having acquired the BUR post, Woolsey Castle, and noble rank from the dispossessed former pack leader, he never lacked for a dinner invitation. His Beta, inherited with the pack, had a tense time of it: dancing on protocol and covering up Lord Maccon’s various social gaffes. So far, bluntness had proved Professor Lyall’s most consistent problem. Sometimes it even rubbed off on him. He had not meant to shock Miss Tarabotti, but she was now looking most subdued.

‘I was simply sitting,’ Alexia explained, placing the sandwich aside, having lost her appetite. ‘He launched himself at me, totally unprovoked. His feeding fangs were out. I am certain if I had been a normal daylight woman, he would have bled me dry. I simply had to defend myself.’

Professor Lyall nodded. A vampire in a state of extreme hunger had two socially acceptable options: to take sips from various willing drones belonging to him or his hive, or to pay for the privilege from blood-whores down dockside. This was the nineteenth century, after all, and one simply did not attack unannounced and uninvited! Even werewolves, who could not control them selves at full moon, made certain they had enough clavigers around to lock them away. He himself had three, and it took five to keep Lord Maccon under control.

‘Do you think maybe he was forced into