Silver in the Blood (Silver in the Blood, #1)

by Jessica Day George

What was waiting for them in Bucharest that could make Aunt Kate nervous?

How did one write a travel journal that would be even remotely interesting to readers?

I say, that’s one less dumb animal in the world, and who cares?”

“Stay here. Don’t move. Don’t speak to anyone.” Kate went out, slamming the door behind her.

Dacia waited for ten minutes, which she felt showed herculean forbearance on her part.

She wanted to go to the front of the train and demand to know what was happening, but the gunshots were coming from that direction and Aunt Kate had gone to the rear. Dacia was certain that her aunt knew more than she was letting on, so she decided that following Aunt Kate was the better idea.

Not only would it be highly improper, but Kate was very sensitive to strong odors. She often claimed that she had never married because she couldn’t find a man who didn’t reek of cigars.

She often claimed that she had never married because she couldn’t find a man who didn’t reek of cigars.

“You have to put a stop to this, doamna mea,” the man said with respect and even a little fear. Dacia could hardly blame him, but she did think it was a bit much to address her aunt as “my lady.”

“My Louisa doesn’t suffer from nerves,” Mr. Neulander had insisted. “She is a tender child, and shy. I refuse to have her dunked in ice water every morning. It’s more torture than cure!”

“And you are more than that,” he said. “You are a houri, taunting me with your gray eyes and your delectable form!” Once again, his words did not make sense, although that bit about her delectable form sounded quite vulgar, and Lou was absolutely at the end of her tether. Without thinking, she raised her still-furled parasol and struck him about the head and shoulders with a violence that surprised both of them.

Her mother insisted that she take supper on a tray in her room, and Lou did not object, but while everyone else was dining she pulled on a dress and went downstairs to the hotel library, to look up the word houri. Then she rather wished she hadn’t.

I have known Aunt Kate all my life, and she is therefore not all that interesting to me.

Instead, she played dirty.

She knew New York so well that none of it excited her anymore, and she had spent the last few months in London, which was like New York only older and dirtier, in her opinion.

She was hardly going to start weeping in an outdoor café because she’d had an emotionally trying day.

am taking LouLou to the Tuileries. Just LouLou. Then we shall go to lunch. The boys may stay here with their tutor and learn to speak French. And attempt to sit still for five minutes without starting something on fire.”

Although at night when they were scrubbed and sleepy and tucked into bed, they could be very sweet. Occasionally.

“That is a linden,” Lou’s father said. “And also a very strange angle for my daughter’s head to be tilted at for very long.”

“You know,” Dacia said, drawing another card, “I think that I should be the one who gets to scream.”

“If you don’t need me, then I’ll indulge in some hysterics,” Dacia announced calmly. “I believe I’m due. Now back away, I’m going to scream.”

that awful woman whom fate has cursed me with as a grandmother.

Precisely why I am glad that my mother’s indisposition kept her at home. Imagine if my own mother were to turn against me! On second thought, the difference would be imperceptible . .

“The most unnatural grandmother the world has ever known,” Dacia said.

“Oh, really?” Dacia laid the gown on the bed, trying not to twitter like one of those silly girls who suddenly acts like a flitting, brainless sparrow whenever a young man is in the room. Or even mentioned. “That’s . . . nice.”

“Oh, hardly!” Dacia threw up her hands. “I mean, to say he’s a prince sounds thrilling, but it’s one of those older titles that are traditional, not political. He’s no relation to the king, you know. It’s like the Russians, who have princes simply everywhere.”

There truly is no rest for the wicked,

“Gnnnh,” Dacia replied, and put her pillow over her head. Lou sat up abruptly, looked blankly at the maid, the open window, then Dacia, and then collapsed back onto the bed. “Gnnnh,” she said in agreement.

“Lady Ioana,” Dacia muttered, making it sound like a curse.

“Well, he’s certainly not a Florescu, which seems more and more commendable.

and our Florescu grandmother is, to be frank, a terror.

“Radu said that sometimes Gypsies hang around the gate. I wanted to see one, but there isn’t anyone there.” Which was not a lie. There wasn’t anyone there. Not anymore.

Note: perhaps if this whole thing turns out as horrible as I fear it will, I can use it as leverage in negotiating a private household. There is a darling apartment on Fifth Avenue that would suit the two of us admirably.

“Why didn’t you tell me that talking back felt so good?” Lou demanded.

“I’m sorry, is this a good time?”

“We have had a most trying day,” she informed them with as much dignity as she could muster. “Prince Mihai has just left us and is no longer welcome anywhere near Dacia or me, and I am naked beneath this shawl. “So to answer your question, my lord: this is a terrible time.”

“We are part of an organization with members all over the world,” Lord Johnny said. “It’s called the Society of Saint Gabriel the Archangel.” “That’s a mouthful,” Lou said. “Are you monks?”

falls into the “monstrous” category even when not transformed into a bat!

She means there grandmother

Lord Johnny, who had just raised his teacup to his lips, nearly spit tea across the table at her. At the last moment, he turned his head, and merely choked. Mr. Arkady slapped him on the back, his brows drawn together.

She wanted to help Lord Johnny, and his society or brotherhood or whatever it was.

“I don’t know if slapping will be enough,” Lou murmured, and Dacia smiled. “No, it won’t,” Dacia said. “But we’ll start with that.

“Yes, they know about the Society. I’ll call,” Lord Johnny said, looking annoyed. Dacia guessed that he was mostly irritated that he hadn’t thought of that himself. Men could be that way sometimes.

“Well, I should hope not,” Dacia said. “Pouting is such unbecoming behavior in a man.”

When the king and the two young men had gone at last, the queen sighed. “Sometimes men can be so taxing,” she said. Dacia agreed.

“Papa! Dacia! Theo is taking me to Istanbul to meet his family!” Lou sang out. “We leave at once so that we have time to explore before I begin college!” “Wonderful,” Dacia shouted back. “Johnny is taking me to Paris!”