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She was that particular style of solid British womanhood that held firm against both military invasion and recalcitrant pie crusts, rolling pin wielded with consummate skill in either case.
It was pleasing to trail behind a woman who walked like she had places to be and people to kill.
Plus, as an Englishman, Crispin didn’t like making others uncomfortable with real feelings.
It so closely resembled a hedgehog wearing a hat that Cris was mildly startled not to see it sprout little legs and waddle off.
Cris was one for honesty when it didn’t matter or hurt anyone’s feelings.
“You don’t owe the world for what he was, old fellow. You know that, don’t you? You can’t fix the sins of your father. None of us can. ’Specially when the bounder’s dead.”
Sir Crispin found her sweet enough to be difficult, chattery enough to be annoying, and jolly enough to affect even his unflappable demeanor. Even knowing she was capable, Cris worried about her constantly when they were on a mission together. This was, of course, one of her skills – convincing others that she needed looking after.
No apparent crimes against humanity either, no rash of murders or disappearances in the area, so they can’t send in the constabulary to get all constabby-stabby.
Dimity sighed into her tea. She hated it when men got complicated. They were so very bad at it.
Cris resisted a mad inclination to flex. It was nice to be appreciated, even if it was mostly as food.
Cris kept his weapon at the ready. The vampire was still tense about the eyes, and his hands were overly still. Cris never trusted a still predator.
The maid looked disappointed. Mrs Bagley looked like Mrs Bagley.
“Exploding wicker-work Aves Galliformes of some kind.
😂 🔥🐔
“Blood will flow,” intoned Lord Akeldama. “Yes, it usually does when vampires lose their willies.”
Can’t have two people in a relationship, both of whom rely on strategic fainting.
And would I have time to make poison if I needed it? So I packed some ready-made, to be on the safe side. And then, well, if I’m taking digitalis, why not throw in a little arsenic and some cyanide?
And if I’m packing the poison rings, there are bladed fans to consider, and hats with garrote ribbons, and heat-resistant reticules, and in the end—” She finally paused for breath. “I packed the whole of this season’s wardrobe, and all associated accessories, even the deadly ones.”
Not all baggage is created equal.” With which she gave his nether regions a speculative glance and waltzed past him to trail Sir Crispin down the hall.
“Oh, do buck up, husband darling, we’re clearly in the midst of a badly written yellow-back novel of a particularly sentimental variety.”
he ached for something he wanted and didn’t deserve to have.
“Look here, Mr Theris. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if I must. You see, if I shoot you, there will be blood. It’s terribly embarrassing, but when I see blood, I have a propensity to faint. And you wouldn’t notice because you would be dead, but I would be most awfully inconvenienced. Not to mention this lovely new wallpaper would be spattered. So if you would kindly keep your hands to yourself... there’s a good chap.”
But honestly, a lady liked to know she could interest the gentleman of her affections in all ways – upstairs and downstairs, so to speak.
Sophronia should know, since she’d been sinfully enamoured of, and sharing a bed with, an entirely inappropriate and perfectly wonderful man for many years.
