The Parasol Protectorate Boxed Set Read Online Free PDF Page A

the library and fainted from the shock. Poor lamb, how horrific for her.”
    Evylin, the youngest, clucked her tongue sympathetically and reached for the pot of gooseberry jelly. “Does it say who the
young lady is?”
    Felicity rubbed her nose delicately and read on. “Unfortunately, no.”
    Alexia raised both eyebrows and sipped her tea in un-characteristic silence. She winced at the flavor, looked with narrowed
eyes at her cup, and then reached for the creamer.
    Evylin spread jelly with great attention to applying a precisely even layer over the top of the toast. “How very tiresome!
I should love to know all the relevant details. It is like something out of a gothic novel. Anything else interesting?”
    â€œWell, the article continues on with a more extensive review of the ball. Goodness, the writer even criticizes the Duchess
of Snodgrove for not providing refreshments.”
    â€œWell, really,” said Evylin in heartfelt agreement, “even Almack’s has those bland little sandwiches. It is not as if the
duke could not see to the expense.”
    â€œToo true, my dear,” agreed Mrs. Loontwill.
    Felicity glanced at the byline of the article. “Written by ‘anonymous.’ No commentary on anyone’s attire. Well, I call that
a pretty poor showing. He does not even mention Evylin or me.”
    The Loontwill girls were quite popular in the papers, partly for their generally well-turned-out appearance and partly because
of the remarkable number of beaux they had managed to garner between them. The entire family, with the exception of Alexia,
enjoyed this popularity immensely and did not seem to mind if what was written was not always complimentary. So long as
something
was written.
    Evylin looked annoyed. A small crease appeared between her perfectly arched brows. “I wore my new pea-green gown with the
pink water lily trim simply so they’d write about it.”
    Alexia winced. She would prefer not to be reminded of that gown—
so many ruffles
.
    The unfortunate by-product of Mrs. Loontwill’s second marriage, both Felicity and Evylin were markedly different from their
older half sister. No one upon meeting the three together would have thought Alexia related to the other two at all. Aside
from an obvious lack of Italian blood and completely soul-ridden states, Felicity and Evylin were both quite beautiful: pale
insipid blondes with wide blue eyes and small rosebud mouths. Sadly, like their dear mama, they were not much more substantive
than “quite beautiful.” Breakfast conversation was, therefore, not destined to be of the intellectual caliber that Alexia
aspired to. Still, Alexia was pleased to hear the subject turn toward something more mundane than murder.
    â€œWell, that’s all it says about the ball.” Felicity paused, switching her attention to the society announcements. “This is
very interesting. That nice tearoom near Bond Street has decided to remain open until two am to accommodate and cultivate
supernatural clientele. Next thing you know, they will be serving up raw meat and flutes of blood on a regular basis. Do you
think we should still frequent the venue, Mama?”
    Mrs. Loontwill looked up once more from her barley and lemon water. “I do not see how it can do too much harm, my dear.”
    Squire Loontwill added, swallowing a bite of toast, “Some of the better investors run with the nighttime crowd, my pearl.
You could do worse when hunting down suitors for the girls.”
    â€œReally, Daddy,” admonished Evylin, “you make Mama sound like a werewolf on the rampage.”
    Mrs. Loontwill gave her husband a suspicious glance. “You haven’t been frequenting Claret’s or Sangria these last few evenings,
have you?” She sounded as though she suspected London of being suddenly overrun with were-wolves, ghosts, and vampires, and
her husband fraternizing with them all.
    The squire