Black Moonlight Read Online Free PDF

Marjorie responded in mock laughter. “Why don’t we find out about your guide?”
    “All right,” Creighton agreed. “Go ahead, Cassandra. Is it an Egyptian god, or better yet, a gorgeous, scantily clad Egyptian goddess?”
    Marjorie gave him a playful punch in the arm.
    “Your guide is Basenji,” Cassandra coolly stated.
    “Basenji,” Creighton slowly repeated. “Is that a male or a female?”
    “Neither. It is a barkless Egyptian dog.” With that, Cassandra turned on one heel and retreated from the study.
    “Oh, you’ve done it now. She’s terrible when she’s angry.” Pru took off after her instructor.
    “How do you feel about that whole thing?” Creighton prodded his brother after Pru had left the room.
    “What whole thing?” Edward replied obtusely. “Oh, you mean Cassandra? It’s all a bunch of nonsense. Spirit guides, bah!”
    “I know that, but Cassandra’s being paid for that nonsense, isn’t she?”
    “Oh yes, and handsomely too.”
    “And you don’t mind paying an obvious fraud?”
    “Not if it makes Pru happy.” Edward shook his head. “You don’t know what it was like before Cassandra came along. Pru was constantly talking about getting our own house and starting a family.”
    “Well, how long have you been married now? Five years? Those seem like reasonable things for a woman in her position to want,” Creighton asserted as he glanced at Marjorie.
    Marjorie, polishing off her drink, nodded in agreement.
    “And she shall have them once Father is gone,” Edward maintained. “But right now, I’m somewhat tied to the old man’s purse strings.”
    A bell sounded and the party shuffled out of the study and into the adjacent dining room.
    Beneath the candlelight of an intricately carved Waterford chandelier, Creighton Ashcroft II took his place at the head of the heavy British Colonial table and beckoned his guests to be seated.
    Opposite Mr. Ashcroft, at the other end of the table, sat Griselda. To his right sat Prudence, Creighton, and Cassandra. To his left sat Edward and Marjorie. An empty chair occupied the spot between Marjorie and Griselda and opposite Cassandra.
    George entered the room through a paneled door and began pouring the wine.
    “Thank you, George.” Mr. Ashcroft grabbed his wine glass and rose from his chair. “And thank you, everyone, for being here this evening. As you know—”
    The paneled door once again swung open, this time admitting to a bespectacled man of slight build and thinning hair. He fiddled nervously with the lapels of his drape-cut suit as he scurried to his seat.
    “You’re late, Miller,” Ashcroft admonished.
    Miller pushed his spectacles farther up the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
    Ashcroft gave a loud sigh of exasperation. “As I was saying, tonight is a night of celebration. After having met every debutante in New York and London, after enjoying dinner and brandy with all the well-propertied spinsters in our social circle, and even having dallied with a few dancers from the Ziegfeld Follies—”
    Marjorie shot a look at her husband, who merely smiled and shrugged.
    “—my eldest son, Creighton, has finally found himself a bride. And what a lovely bride she is. Please join me as I toast to Creighton and Marjorie’s happiness. May they enjoy a long, happy life together.”
    “Here, here,” Edward rejoined before they all completed the toast with a hearty sip.
    “Since no wedding would be complete without a gift,” Ashcroft continued, “I would like to take this opportunity to present them with something I know Creighton’s mother would have wanted them to have.” He nodded to George who, after serving the wine, stood waiting in a dark corner of the room.
    George obediently walked over to what initially appeared to be a low, covered buffet table and pulled back the cloth to reveal a carved walnut Italian Renaissance chest.
    “The cassone Mother bought in Italy,” Creighton said in disbelief. “I