Page 125 of Thief of the Ton
“No,” Peregrine said. “At six. Make sure my father and Mr. Houseman don’t know.”
“For what purpose?”
Peregrine closed his eyes, and the image of Lavinia’s beautiful face floated before his mind’s eye.
“I intend to see justice served.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Avortex ofblack and red swirled around Lavinia until it tightened her chest, pushing the breath from her body. A wraith floated in the air, glowing in the red light that smothered the horizon. She struggled to break free, but blackness pinned her to the ground.
The wraith turned to face her, and she caught sight of a skull bathed in red—two eyes as black as coal staring soullessly at her and a wide, gaping mouth fixed into a demonic grin. Skeletal arms reached toward her, claw-like hands sliding hungrily toward their prey.
Fate had come to claim her—a life for a life.
The wraith stepped forward, placing a foot on the ground with a sharp crack. It took another step—then another, and another…
She reached up to defend herself, and her hands dissolved in front of her, morphing into bones. The demon’s grin broadened as it broke into a run, reaching for her throat…
Crack, crack, knock, knock…
With a scream, she sat upright, and the demon dissolved. She glanced at her hands and saw only pale skin, illuminated in the light of the morning sun.
She was in her bedchamber, bathed in the beam of sunlight that stretched across the bedsheet from the window where she’d forgotten to draw the curtains last night.
She jumped as the door was knocked again, followed by a female voice.
“Miss Lavinia? Your father sent me. It’s gone seven, and breakfast’s ready.”
The door opened to reveal Mrs. Bates.
“Forgive me, miss, but I heard—” She broke off, her eyes widening. “Mercy me, miss! Whatever’s the matter? You look very ill.”
Lavinia shook her head. “No, Mrs. Bates, I’m quite well. I-it was a bad dream, that’s all.”
“Are you sure? You’re as white as a sheet. I could send for the doctor.”
“No!” Lavinia cried. Mrs. Bates flinched. “Forgive me, Mrs. Bates—I’m merely tired. I slept poorly.”
“That’s nothing a good breakfast won’t cure,” Mrs. Bates said. She gestured toward the closet. “Shall I help you dress?”
“No, I’ll be all right. Tell Papa I’ll be down directly.”
“Very good, miss.” Mrs. Bates tilted her head to one side and regarded Lavinia with a thoughtful expression. “Are yousureyou’re all right?” Lavinia nodded, and Mrs. Bates leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “If you say so, sweet girl,” she said. “It breaks my heart that you’ve no mother to share your burdens. You’re so strong for your papa—but who’s there to be strong for you? If there’s anything I, or my Joe, can do to help chase your nightmare away, you only need ask.”
Dear Mrs. Bates!But what could an honest, hardworking—and god-fearing—couple do to help her, given that she’d…
No—do not think of it!
Mrs. Bates patted Lavinia’s hand, then exited the room. Lavinia re-bandaged her wound, then dressed as well as she could, choosing a long-sleeved gown to conceal the bandage. The bleeding had stopped, but her arm had grown stiff, and the wound itched.
She found Papa helping himself to eggs from the side table. He nodded in greeting, then shuffled back to his seat.
“It’s not like you to sleep late,” he said. “Is anything the matter?”
“No—I’m quite well.”
He cast a sharp glance in her direction, but said nothing. Lavinia approached the buffet and spooned eggs onto her plate.
