Vampyre Bride ✔️

III⎮The Watcher

Not that he would ever be admitted within that proud and privileged inner sanctum. The patrons of that notorious gentleman's club were of an exclusive sort consisting mostly of either aristocrats or the very affluent. There could really be no doubt that it was an establishment of which Lord Winterly was an esteemed member.

"But does he live in London?"

"I believe he owns a townhouse in Mayfair, but I cannot recall the exact location of their country estate. Somewhere in Yorkshire if I'm not mistaken. Very strange family, I daresay."

"How do you mean?"

"I do not know the particulars, my dear, but I believe there was quite a scandal a few years ago. Best not dwell on it, I say.

"What kind of scandal!" she cried.

However, her uncle waved his hand in a dismissive fashion, drawing the conversation to a very unsatisfactory conclusion. "As I said, I do not know the specifics; furthermore, most of it is like as not merely hearsay spread by rumormongers." He stood from his writing desk and scrutinized his pocket watch a moment, ostensibly to confirm that the time corresponded accurately with the tall clock striking the hour of nine.

"Excellent," he declared, before returning the timepiece to his waistcoat. "Come, my dear; it is time for breakfast!" With that he rubbed his hands together enthusiastically.

"Indubitably," she groused quietly, though she needn't have bothered for he wouldn't have heard her lest she shouted. And I am hardly much the wiser. All she had managed glean from her uncle was the nature of Lord Winterly's title and that he, like almost every other gentleman, was a private man.

She surmised, testily, that her uncle was never late for anything, least of all a meal! That he should conclude their discussion in favor of his breakfast, was no surprise to his niece.

Robert Haywood was not rotund exactly, but his figure was not that of a man who deprived himself of aught. The buttons straining at his waistcoat were more than ample proof of his love of good wine and rich fare. But to be thwarted by her uncle's grumbling stomach was most vexing indeed, but she bore it as best she could, shaking her head with a resigned snort.

I could very well set my clock to that stomach.

❅

After breakfast, Milli decided that the ladies ought to enjoy a bit of shopping before returning home to prepare for their evening; their uncle had arranged that they would all enjoy a night out at Astley's Royal Amphitheater to watch a show. However, it was far too lovely a day to be spent indoors, and so Emma readily agreed.

"I meant to replace my spectacles in any event." Emma sat sketching the buildings across the street from the library window as Millicent shut a thick volume with an indelicate yawn.

"I rather you didn't," complained her sister, "for they suite you ill indeed!" Millicent walked up behind her sister and admired the drawing over Emma's shoulder.

"Well, I shouldn't think you'd care; it is not you that shall wear them, my dear."

"Your eyes are not so bad," Milli snorted as she scrutinized the result of her sisters skillful hand. "I think you wear them so that you can hide behind those rebarbative frames and thereby blend with all the rest of the wallflowers. Emma, I forbid your acquiring another pair!" The facetious curve of her sister's grin was wholly effectual in that it provoked Emma's lips to mirror Millicent's.

"Before you make any further demands of me, I suggest you repay the half crown you still owe me, sister."

"I shan't if you threaten to buy spectacles again!" Without preamble, Milli sashayed from the room before Emma could issue a satisfying retort; but not before she bade her sister to make haste, for the carriage had already been ordered for their outing.