The Witch's Thief Read Online Free PDF Page A

re-introductions,” she said, smiling with genuine warmth. “We are old friends, are we not, Mr. Merriweather?”
    “So old that we need not be so formal, I believe, Miss Grey.”
    A shade of pink lightly flushed her cheeks. She lowered her lashes, looking quickly to the floor, though her smile remained in place. “Indeed,” she said.
    Aunt Petunia began to chatter once more, marveling at Basil’s physical changes and all the years that had passed since she last clapped eyes on him. Though he followed her dialogue, his aunt’s voice fell to the background as Basil focused on the sight of Julia.
    Julia!
    Stray strands of dark brown hair curled softly against her cheek. The fire’s light shone upon it, illuminating the reddish interwoven strands, a trait she shared with her younger sister. The color suited her pale skin and enhanced the jade of her eyes.
    His nostrils twitched. Her scent of lilacs plagued him. Basil refrained from inhaling deeply of that beauteous odor.
    The moment he opened his eyes to find himself on the library floor with her hovering over him, he had been convinced he woke to a dream. After all, he dreamt of her often. Even while he banished her from every waking thought, she still came to him at night, her hands searching for him, her heat warming him, her lips tasting him. He’d suffered many difficult nights with her memory tormenting him.
    And to have her now, only an arm’s length away and unable to embrace her as he so desired tore at his fragile heart. He resisted for decorum’s sake as well as her own good. He broke ties with her those many years ago. He’d not do her harm by engaging in her society now, no matter how much he yearned for her company.
    Aunt Petunia spoke his name and he realized she’d ask him a question that he failed to answer while he busied himself with memories of Julia. He needed to pay better attention.
    “Ah, yes. I came as quickly as I could after I received your letter.” Basil rubbed his hands in front of the fire. He wondered if he’d ever feel warm again. “Where are the girls?”
    “Lillian and Melora are with Uncle Arden.”
    “Whatever for?” Basil looked up abruptly.
    Petunia’s elder brother Arden Prescott rarely wanted much to do with any member of their family. Occasionally, he accepted Petunia as a guest in his home in Cornwall out of familial duty, but other than that he preferred the life of a recluse. He was obsessed with his alchemical work. Basil visited his estate as a child and recalled glimpses of a gray-haired man smelling of rotten eggs. “Why are the girls with Uncle Arden?”
    “He’s claimed guardianship over them,” Petunia said, frowning. “He promised a Season, a chance for them to find husbands. I thought he was being charitable after all these years, so I urged them to accept. They’ve never been to London, after all.”
    “And?”
    Petunia shook her head in remorse. “Lillian contacted me a few weeks ago. There was no Season. He’s already picked men for them to marry. Sold them to the highest bidder, in fact. He’s run out of money and found husbands in exchange for funds.”
    “The scoundrel!” Basil sat up. “He cannot force them to marry. Who does he think he is that he may coerce them?”
    “His work has always been his obsession. I fear he’s grown worse still since my last visit to Cornwall.”
    “I do not know why you insist on keeping contact with him. He’s little more than a madman.”
    “He’s my brother,” she said, lifting her chin in defiance. “He’s the only one I have left since your dear grandfather departed this earth. As children, Arden and I were the best of friends. I honor that memory despite what he has become. And, I believe people can change, Basil. Don’t you?” Her left eyebrow rose inquisitively, daring him to answer.
    He looked away. Yes, people could change. He changed much in the last ten years. In more ways than he cared to admit.
    Basil glanced at Julia, whose gaze