Poppy pushed out of her own chair. She turned on her heel and raced from the breakfast room, not slowing her pace until she reached her great-aunt’s bedchamber. The door was half-open and from the corridor, Poppy realized that Laurel was sobbing inside the room.
Steeling herself for the worst, Poppy pushed the door fully open and found her weeping sister standing to the side of the four-poster. At her entrance, Laurel swiped at the tears on her cheeks.
“Sh-she’s gone,” Laurel managed to say.
Poppy rushed across the room and enveloped her sister in her arms. “Oh, Laurel.”
The two of them held each other tight as realization settled upon them. Theywerethe last of the Branwyck witches now. The last of their line, and they didn’t have any sort of clue about what they were supposed to do or how they were supposed to do it.
CHAPTER1
The Crimson Cloak
St. James Street - London
September 1814
Arms folded across his chest,Captain Alec Galbraith watched the dice fall from the hands of a young lordling, the fellow’s first time in a hell, Alec would wager. And Alec was an astute wagerer with a fortune made all on his own. A sound of disgust rose up from the Hazard table when the young gentleman’s roll failed to make winners of the assembled bunch.
Alec stepped away from the table, balancing more heavily on his cane than he would have liked. The autumn air, even in a heated crowd as thick as could be found at The Cloak, chilled him to his bones and whatever shrapnel was left in his leg caused fresh pain to shoot through him anew.
Across the hell, he noticed Daniel Elstone enter the gambling establishment. He nodded in greeting and wondered how his old school friend had fared at Doncaster. Where Alec was luckier than most at cards and games of chance, Daniel was lucky with horseflesh.
His friend crossed the hell at a faster pace than Alec could have managed, grinning from ear to ear. His sojourn to Yorkshire had clearly been successful.
“Bumped into Ravensdale this morning,” Daniel said in greeting.
“My condolences,” Alec replied dryly and motioned with his head toward a blessedly empty table near the far wall.
“He was looking for you.” Daniel fell into step beside him.
Limping only slightly, Alec managed not to snort in response. “Then it is your turn to offermecondolences.” Of course, if Alec’s older brother had any sort of desire to truly find him, simple scrying would do the trick. Not that Rhys had ever been adept at the art, but their mother most certainly was. No, no, the pair of them had as much want to see Alec as he had to see either of them.
“Asked me to give you this,” Daniel said as he retrieved a note from inside his jacket.
Even in the dim light of the hell, the Ravensdale crest, pressed into a wax seal had a bit of luster about it. Alec’s stomach twisted at the once familiar sight. “So the blackguard has made you his errand boy?” He slowed his pace just enough to pocket the blasted note, wishing he still had the ability to instantly light the missive up in a ball of flames instead of tucking it out of sight. That ability, however, was long since gone.
“He seemed less prickish,” Daniel replied good-naturedly.
“Well, it would be impossible for him to be more so,” Alec countered.
“That is true,” his friend agreed.
They settled into a pair of overstuffed chairs and Alec rested his cane across his lap, ignoring the pulsing of his leg and the twisting of his stomach. Then he caught the attention of a nearby footman. “Two whiskys, Turner.”
“Right away, Captain.” The servant hurried off to do his bidding.
“I’m assuming all went well at Doncaster?” he began, hoping to distract himself from the Ravensdale note that seemed ready to burn its way from his pocket to his soul. His jackanapes of a brother. What could he possibly want after all this time? And why track down Elstone instead?
Daniel nodded though his smile faded a bit as he did so. “My uncle will be thrilled with the standings, and Tattersall is begging for more Halwell stock.”
“Good news all around then,” Alec replied.
Daniel heaved out a sigh. “Not all good news.”
Indeed. The manhadbumped into Rhys. “Something other than my brother?”
His friend raked a hand through his golden hair. “We’ve lost Blackburn.”
