Celia Martin
In the day’s dying light, Lady Timandra Lotterby peered out the coach window at thedark and shuttered house and wished she had never offered to accompany her friend, ElizaTilbury, to Perfidious Brambles. A cold shiver crept up her spine, and she squiggleduncomfortably on the padded seat cushion. Eliza’s trembling hand slid over hers, and Timandrafelt instant shame. She was here to support her friend, not give way to silly, baseless fears. Yes,the estate grounds appeared unkempt, and the house foreboding, but an old man living on hisown might find little need to keep up appearances.