Descent Into Dust by Jacqueline Lepore Read Free Book Online

smile I knew she wouldn’t appreciate. The world had surely changed cataclysmically if my sister was looking to me to bring equanimity to her life. In the past, our encounters could be counted on to send her into fits, for we could never seem to get along well. The difference was that now she needed me. I had never been needed like this before.
    “You shall come to dinner,” she said, rising.
    I felt somewhat revived by my sister’s visit, and by the revelations that had come as a result. I resolved to put my troubles out of my mind. I would strive to carry on with an improved attitude. I would no longer lie about and worry.
    However, I could not completely dispel the dull headache. It stayed with me as I departed the gloomy safety of my room and again joined the world of the living.
    The following morning, after visiting Henrietta in her schoolroom, I joined the guests in the salon. The curate and Mrs. Bedford were among those present for luncheon. Sebastian slipped to my side. “No bowling today. Are you absolutely crushed?”
    He wore a gold-and-peacock-blue waistcoat that dazzled myeyes so intensely I had to squint. He smiled at my reaction at such a costume and began to fuss with his lacy cuff. “You like it? I spent nearly all my quarterly allowance on it, but it was worth it. Is it not marvelous?”
    “If there is a better word to describe this apparition, I cannot think of it,” I replied drolly.
    “Look,” he said, jerking his head to where Roger stood in conversation with a knot of men. “A Mr. Valerian Fox.” He drew out the name with flavor as I spied a new guest.
    “Is he a friend of yours?”
    His hand fluttered dramatically. “No, no, dear, I’ve just made his very intriguing acquaintance myself. He’s Roger’s friend, someone from London, I think. I took it my brother was rather surprised to see him here.”
    I peered more intently at the man. He was tall and blade-thin, but his shoulders were broad, filling his coat and stretching the material slightly when he placed a glass on the mantle. Someone made a joke—I’m sure it was Roger, as Alan has no sense of humor—and the deep timbre of masculine laughter filled the room.
    “Was he not invited?”
    “I do not know the particulars, but he seems to have corresponded with Roger, after some mutual acquaintance provided a letter of introduction. Roger had no choice but to ask him to join us. Which was quite decent of him, but you know how absurdly polite my brother can be.”
    Mr. Fox half-turned, and I caught his profile. In that first glimpse of patrician nose and intelligent brow over which spilled a spike of dark hair, I don’t believe I breathed. Mr. Fox chanced to glance over one square shoulder, and caught me watchinghim. He merely returned my perusal, his dark, hooded eyes unwavering without being rude.
    His face was interesting rather than handsome, composed of angles and planes; pointed cheekbones and a square jaw were balanced by the smooth, swarthy skin of his cheek. There were elongated hollows on either side of a sensuously curved mouth, lending an aspect to his face that was too sharp for conventional good looks. And yet it was arresting. I caught myself staring with what had to appear startling rudeness.
    “Come on, let us get you introduced,” Sebastian whispered, and I instinctively drew back. But my resistance was easily overcome when he pulled insistently at my elbow and marched me toward the group.
    “Mr. Fox,” he said, his face alight with excitement, “may I be allowed to present you to Mrs. Emma Andrews.”
    Mr. Fox’s dark head inclined and his gloved hand extended with smart correctness. “Your servant,” he said.
    His voice was like silk drawn over a rough surface, smooth with a slight rasp. His eyes were nearly obsidian, glittering cleverly as he took my measure.
    “Emma, this is Mr. Valerian Fox,” Sebastian continued, drawing on the name again, saying it with relish. “Emma lives in Devon,” he