Blood Bank by Tanya Huff Read Free Book Online

open. She would have fallen had Henry not caught her wrist and kept her on her feet.
    He could feel her pulse racing beneath the thin sheath of heated skin. The Hunger rose, and he hurriedly broke the contact. Self-indulgence, besides being vulgar, was a sure road to the stake.
    "Heavens, you startled me." Cheeks flushed, she increased the distance between them. "I didn't hear you come down."
    "My apologies. I heard Miss Amworth and didn't wish to break in on a private moment."
    "Her uncle works with Charles and wanted to know how he was, but her uncle is also a dear friend of His Royal Highness and is, shall we say, less than able to climb in and out of carriages. Is Charles...?"
    "I left him sleeping."
    "Good." Her right hand wrapped around the place where Henry had held her. She swallowed, then, as though reminded of her duties by the action, stammered, "Can I get you a glass of wine?"
    "Thank you, no. I must be going."
    "Good. That is, I mean..." Her flush deepened. "You must think I'm a complete idiot. It's just that with Charles injured..."
    "I fully understand." He smiled, careful not to show teeth.
    *
    Lenore Evans closed the door behind her husband's guest and tried to calm the pounding of her heart. Something about Henry Fitzroy spoke to a part of her she'd thought belonged to Charles alone. Her response might have come out of gratitude for the saving of her husband's life, but she didn't think so. He was a handsome young man, and she found the soft curves of his mouth a fascinating contrast to the gentle strength in his grip.
    Shaking her head in self-reproach, she lifted her skirts with damp hands and started up the stairs. "I'm beginning to think," she sighed, "that Aunt Georgette was right. Novels are a bad influence on a young woman."
    What she needed now was a few hours alone with her husband but, as his wound made that impossible, she'd supposed she'd have to divert her thoughts with a book of sermons instead.
    *
    Almack's Assembly Rooms were the exclusive temple of the beau monde, and vouchers to the weekly ball on Wednesday were among the most sought-after items in London. What matter that the assembly rooms were plain, the dance floor inferior, the anterooms unadorned, and the refreshments unappetizing—this was the seventh heaven of the fashionable world, and to be excluded from Almack's was to be excluded from the upper levels of society.
    Henry, having discovered that a fashionable young man could live unremarked from dark to dawn, had effortlessly risen to the top.
    After checking with the porter that all three of Captain Evans' potential spies were indeed in attendance, Henry left hat, coat, and gloves and made his way up into the assembly rooms. Avoiding the gaze of Princess Esterhazy, who he considered to be rude and overbearing, he crossed the room and made his bow to the Countess Lieven.
    "I hear you were quite busy last night, Mr. Fitzroy."
    A little astonished by how quickly the information had made its way to such august ears, he murmured he had only done what any man would have.
    "Indeed. Any man. Still, I should have thought the less of you had you expected a fuss to be made." Tapping her closed fan against her other hand, she favored him with a long, level look. "I have always believed there was more to you than you showed the world."
    Fully aware that the countess deserved her reputation as the cleverest woman in London, Henry allowed a little of his mask to slip.
    She smiled, satisfied for the moment with being right and not overly concerned with what she had been right about. "Appearances, my dear Mr. Fitzroy, are everything. And now, I believe they are beginning a country dance. Let me introduce you to a young lady in need of a partner."
    Unable to think of a reason why she shouldn't, Henry bowed again. A few moments later, as he moved gracefully through the pattern of the dance, he wondered if he should pay the countess a visit some night, had not made a decision by the time the dance