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Chapters (44)
  1. Table of Contents
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Chapter Six
  11. Chapter Seven
  12. Chapter Eight
  13. Chapter Nine
  14. Chapter Ten
  15. Chapter Eleven
  16. Chapter Twelve
  17. Chapter Thirteen
  18. Chapter Fourteen
  19. Chapter Fifteen
  20. Chapter Sixteen
  21. Chapter Seventeen
  22. Chapter Eighteen
  23. Chapter Nineteen
  24. Chapter Twenty
  25. Chapter Twenty-One
  26. Chapter Twenty-Two
  27. Chapter Twenty-Three
  28. Chapter Twenty-Four
  29. Chapter Twenty-Five
  30. Chapter Twenty-Six
  31. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  32. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  33. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  34. Chapter Thirty
  35. Chapter Thirty-One
  36. Chapter Thirty-Two
  37. Chapter Thirty-Three
  38. Chapter Thirty-Four
  39. Chapter Thirty-Five
  40. Chapter Thirty-Six
  41. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  42. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  43. A word about the author...
  44. Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

Philomena had heard that their motto was “do what thou wilt” and that they took part in devilish practices. Lord Thatcham was just such a man as might belong to a Hellfire Club. When his eyebrows rose sardonically and his eyes gleamed dark, Philomena could believe the man capable of any devilishness.

She imagined the forbidding Lord Thatcham indulging in all kinds of wickedness in the darkness of the East Wing, where his sister and mother would never venture and where no lights shone from the windows. Philomena’s hands flew to her burning cheeks. Horrified by her own thoughts, she shivered. She had to find out. Tonight, she must discover the secret of the East Wing.

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

The Boxing Day hunt promised a great run, with clear skies and a bite to the air. Excited horses tossed their heads and the stirrup cup circulated rapidly, in preparation for the horn that would signal the start of the day’s ride.

As Hugh swallowed a tot of brandy, a narrow-shouldered grey, sloppily ridden by a red-faced farmer, barged carelessly into Thunder. Hugh’s horse, in the peak of condition and excited by the prospect of a good run, backed nervously, and Hugh needed all his skill to control the animal without dropping the silver cup.

Turning to acknowledge loud apologies from the rider behind him, Hugh came face to face with Arthur Muldrow. Sick from the gossip Martin had passed on last night, and well aware that Muldrow was most likely to have started the rumours, Hugh felt his fingers itch. He would love to use his whip on the snivelling rogue. He held back, though, teeth clamped together with frustration. Any reaction to the gossip passed on to the village by Muldrow’s household would only add to its power. Hugh had no alternative but to ignore what he had heard. One day, though, he would teach Muldrow a lesson.

Rigid in the saddle, he nodded slightly, and moved away. Muldrow grinned.

Hugh noticed Raincloud, Selena’s gentle grey mare, trotting quietly towards Muldrow. He hesitated. He could interrupt and forbid his sister to have anything to do with the man, but that would make a scene. The eyes of the hunt bored into his back. Had everyone present heard the tales?

Hugh held his tongue. He would offer up no more snippets of gossip to the neighbourhood. Selena would come to no harm from Muldrow on the hunting field today, surrounded on all sides by farmers and landowners and in clear view of the hunt followers. Hugh need not spoil his sister’s day. He put his worries to one side in order to concentrate on guiding the excited horse.

The day’s gallop left him refreshed. Returning home, ravenously hungry, he was pleased to see a mountain of food weighing down the dining table. “Ah. Mince pies.” He chewed and swallowed with enthusiasm.