Free Lillian Holmes and the Leaping Man by Ciar Cullen Page B

jesters. He will make no more jokes for her, but there are hundreds, thousands perhaps, to take his place. No doubt she is displeased with me for removing one of her lieutenants.” Who to trust now? Phillip alone?
    “Ah. Marie de Bourbon does have the longest memory. Not too fond of me, either. Do you know that the last time I saw her she accused me of stealing a rather enormous emerald from her? At least three hundred years ago!”
    “No doubt you did.”
    “Of course. But my point is that she remembered.” Annaluisa shook her head sadly. “So, back to Kitty. This is a fairly intolerable situation, as I adore Phillip. Fortunately there is no governing House in Baltimore, or they would have his head. A human lover who knows so much…”
    George rubbed at his chin. “Haven’t we all gone through a spell of wanting a normal life and trying to make it happen? That is what’s at play here. She knows and yet she loves him.”
    “What does she know, exactly? Phillip swore that she doesn’t know about me but that the jig is up for you. How does that make you feel? If you killed or turned her, Georgy, it would be as if you are no longer brothers, and I know that despite your differences he loves you and you love him. You must realize what a precarious thing this is. You pretend to be ambivalent about your relationship with Phillip, but I know the truth.”
    “I do realize. Everything. Of course.” You have no idea . But I need him.
    “Ah, I hear a carriage. Let me go apply more paint so that I may play my role. One of the guests is the child of a friend. I’m feeling generous. She needs a bit of gypsy magic to sooth her wounded soul, although she doesn’t realize it.”
    George glanced up. “Oh, anyone I know?”
    “Shush, here they come. Straighten your necktie, Georgy, and join your man at the door. Be a good host, or Kitty will call in the voodoo priestesses.”
    “More likely to call in her Irish priests, Annaluisa,” he called after her as she scurried upstairs.
    The not-so-dulcet tones of Etta and Agnes Langhan, their wealthy spinster neighbors, made George cringe as he joined his butler at the door. “Phillip will pay for this, Jameson. The Langhan sisters?”
    “Indeed, sir. We must steel ourselves for the evening. Hopefully the piano has not also fallen out of tune.”
    George patted Jameson’s back and then slipped him a ten-dollar note. The butler surely earned more than the average banker in Baltimore, but that seemed the price of secrecy. That and…certain other precautions. No vampire would work as a butler, at least not for very long. And so, mortals. Jameson had lasted longer than any before him.
    Plastering a smile on his face, the one that Phillip often called his crocodile grin, George politely ushered in the rotund duo. The Langhan sisters were the pinnacle of Baltimore society, avid art collectors, friends of poets and novelists, and prone to chatter in French so poorly accented it made George’s teeth ache. Behind them, Phillip ushered Kitty on one arm and a rather ordinary plump blonde morsel on his other. On another night she would be his mark for an evening snack, despite her unattractive limp. Tonight he would treat her as though anything she uttered fascinated him.
    He was about to close the door behind them when he realized the party was not yet complete. A tall, slender woman had her back to him and seemed fascinated with something on the ground outside. He laughed as she knelt on all fours, pulled a matchbox from her bag and lit a match, and ran her hand along the wet grass and mud fronting the house.
    “Perhaps she’ll hold that position for me,” he muttered, taking in her slender waist, full bottom, and breasts straining against her gown. A much better morsel!
    The blonde woman suddenly squealed and scurried past George, rushing out and back to the other’s side, pulling at her sleeve and whispering into her ear. She seemed upset.
    “Why, Phillip,” George said, feeling