Shades of the Past Read Online Free PDF

adequately as a lens.
    What most won her heart and awed her to speechlessness was the extravagant, lacelike plasterwork that erupted over the ceiling, encrusting it with a profusion of decorative webbing and motifs.  Even the towering bay, with its double row of traceried windows, rose beneath a canopy of the riotous, petrified lace.
    Vanessa came to stand there now and look out on the formal gardens, in the last of their bloom.  Surely, there was an enchantment cast over Sherringham, for even in the short space of a week she'd felt its unmistakable pull.  Indeed, not for the first time this day, she must wonder how Lady Gwen could have borne to leave the place, not once to return. 
    She refocused her thoughts and concentrated on the shrubbery without, clipped to interesting shapes.  But instead of greenery, her mind's eye beheld the image of dark, magnetic eyes.
    "My dear, there you are!" a high, familiar voice trilled. 
    Just to her left, a round little couple rose from the settee and hastened to join her at the window.  Vanessa had overlooked Mr. and Mrs. Billingsworth, though she'd been informed of their arrival early this morning.
    "Dear Vanessa, how are you bearing up, poor girl?"  The woman patted Vanessa's hand, her eyes filled with compassion.  She chattered on without drawing a breath.  "Such tragic news, and we all dined together just last month in Yorkshire."
    "Just last month," Mr. Billingsworth echoed, shaking his head gravely.
     "Gwendolyn seemed in the bloom of health, positively robust.  Didn't I say so that very night, Mr. Billingsworth?" 
    "Indeed, sweeting, that very night."
    "And now she's gone and all so quickly," the woman wailed dramatically.  She stopped abruptly and darted a look around.  "Why, my dear, you appear quite alone.  But of course you are, with our Gwendolyn gone.  How foolish of me.  You simply must lunch with us.  We insist.  Don't we Mr. Billingsworth?"
    "Actually, I'd hoped Miss Wynters would do me the honor of dining with me," a deep, rich voice sounded directly behind Vanessa.
    She spun on her heel, gasping her breath as her eyes collided with those of Adrian Marrable.  She felt instantly swallowed by his ebony gaze.  A cautioning alarm warned once more from deep within, but now it clanged like a deafening bell.
    "You are Vanessa Wynters are you not?  My aunt's companion?"
    Vanessa nodded, unable to coax a single word from her throat, afraid it would come out a miserable squeak if she did.  The man positively towered over her, a dark, impressive figure.  Again she sensed the tension enveloping him, palpable and barely leashed.
    He studied her closely.  "Forgive me.  We have not been introduced.  I am—"
    "The panther," she murmured, the words slipping past her lips before she could stop them.  Heat shot to her cheeks as she stood in utter shock of herself.  She cleared her throat.  "I—I mean, I recognized the coat-of-arms on your carriage, the black panther.  You are Viscount Marrable." 
    Maybe God would be kind and open a wide crack in the floor for her to jump in, she thought wildly.  She was about to die from acute mortification anyway.
    The viscount tilted his head and gave her a quizzical look.  Vanessa felt herself shrink under his penetrating stare, causing him to loom even larger before her eyes. 
    The side of his mouth twitched.  "I've only arrived this hour, as you are obviously aware.  My brother's wire was rather terse, as those things tend to be.  I regret I know almost nothing of my aunt's passing.  I am told you were with her at the time."
    "Y-Yes," Vanessa managed.  "She died in my arms."
    At that, a servant appeared at the door and announced the luncheon was served. 
    The viscount proffered his arm.  "I shall be interested in learning all you can tell me of my aunt's last hours, and anything else you might offer."
    Vanessa found she could not decline.  Had he not exhibited a fine devotion to Lady Gwendolyn, despite his