The door opened, and the count emerged. The lawyer rose and Fletcher followed suit.
“My Lord, this is Captain William Fletcher, the stepfather of the young lady you had me inquire about. Captain Fletcher, may I present Le Comte de Rochembeau.”
“My lord.” He made a bow, recalling his manners. The mute specter nodded and gestured to the chair. Fletcher sank into it quickly, the better to hide his knocking knees.
The count sat in a chair next to the door he just emerged from--a dark corner devoid of illumination--and gestured with a wave of his hand for his solicitor to begin.
“His lordship wishes to know if you’ve had sufficient time to consider the agreement.” Jamison asked, unaffected by the veiled creature staring at them from the gloom.
“Aye, its fine, I’ll sign.” He had been warned not to stare, but couldn’t restrain himself. The dark sheath hiding the man’s face made him uneasy. It reminded him of an executioner’s mask. The count was a sizeable man, with inky black hair that swirled about his broad shoulders in wild disarray. Unable to hold that disturbing silvery gaze, Fletcher focused on his host’s attire; gleaming black Top boots, black breeches, and a silk dressing gown of blood red. The gown was opened to reveal a mass of scars riddling his chest that were long and precise.
“We will collect her Friday.” The Frenchman spoke at last in a harsh, grating tone.
Dark Hero, Lily Silver; Copyright 2012
|Missed Appointment, Copyright Lily Silver, aka Lilith Bloodrose 2004|