The Man In Silk Chains {Historical Mystery/ #2 in Blake Series)

Prologue

Meepy: Read before you start! Don't go. This is the sequel to The Girl With The Sunset Eyes (which is a Historical Interracial Romance) However, it can be read as a stand alone if wished. It will still make sense because it has got a different plot. It's mainly mystery and a historical, but because it's me there is always romance (which is why the song in the trailer is a romantic song)

There is some jargon specific to London/ History, however it is all explained at the bottom. If the word you found to be a problem is not explained, please ask. I research to make it as authentic as possible, but not confusing. This chapter has a lot of clues as to who did it, I've picked specific words/ items for a reason. You'll see this in the next chapter too, which is a masquerade! I've always wanted to write about one of those. (With a certain pair of eyes) The sex (you'll understand this as you read) is hidden for a reason. 

Enjoy.

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This chapter is dedicated to one of my closest friends, Tammy. Whenever I feel the lowest, she can make it seem like its not that bad. She has dealt with my panicking, as most of my friends do in my life. But it seems whenever I call her she is so reasonable and understanding that it's okay to ramble to her, and she won't get bored. Why this story/ chapter in particular? Because I was tempted not to post it up, just to weasle out of it and she convinced me that if its what I would like to do, I should go for it. Thanks for everything Tammy :) I can never say it enough.

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Prologue

Fifteenth of January 1800

London

Redemption was beyond his reach.  Soulless days had drained him of his determination. Only left were his materialistic luxuries in his cold, suffocating townhouse. He lay on his bed, shivering as the toxin coursed through his body like a flowing isolated, river. He looked with glassy eyes to his assailant. Grey eyes stared back at him, but he was unable to say anything otherwise he would have thrown up. Instead, he watched as a tear slipped down the bastard’s face.

Tears streamed down his murderer’s face. It was a plausible performance, he cried as he watched the life slowly dripped out as red as a wilting rose of another human being. The dark room made it easier to hide his identity, but the crystallised rays of moonlight highlighted the tears on his cheeks.

 He wanted to get up and spit on its face. He wanted to do it because he was killing a man with the pitiful method which involved no bloodshed. He didn’t even have to touch his victim, but he had the fearlessness to stare at him whilst he died.

At least he had the decency to allow him to die in his own bed. He caressed the silk sheets, which draped across his body. His fingers played with the pale sheets, as the pain became almost unbearable. Almost. He had suffered through worse, it was just heart breaking his love was not here to say goodbye.

Warm brown eyes floated in his slowly departing memory. He remembered her eyes which lit up when she smiled, which was rare. He recalled as he drank in each gaze she gave him, the light of the sunset washed over him, almost allowing him to accept his death peacefully. As he reminisced her sooty black lashes, long brown hair and memorable sayings, he felt another shot of pain in his chest.

Unsure if it was because his soul was being reawakened during his final moments, or because whatever was killing him was getting stronger, he tried to focus on anything but his body. The temptation to cry, as he envisioned her mocha coloured cheeks tingle as she held him intimately became worse. The last time she had touched him, five years ago. He was becoming more uncomfortable in his body…

He wished he wasn’t wearing this blasted nightgown. It clung to his sweaty stomach, turning it almost transparent. He grasped the unused pillow beside him, relieved the pain had turned to an ache. Gritting his teeth allowed him not to give his murderer the satisfaction of seeing him begging for help. Sweat trickled down his face, his fair skin was now red and irritated, damp blond hair clung to his forehead.