Free The Baskerville Tales (Short Stories) by Emma Jane Holloway

grandmother?”
    “No, it’s from my mother. Imogen’s been trying to hatch this plan for weeks and she’ll wring my neck when she finds out I’ve been holding it up. She doesn’t yet know Mama agreed to her scheme.”
    Already wound tight with anxiety, Evelina couldn’t stand it a moment longer. She lunged for the paper, but he caught her hand. His was warm, the fingers long and strong. Then his grip turned gentle, almost to a caress.
    “Would it be inappropriate to demand a delivery fee?” His voice was suddenly low and teasing. He had flirted with her before, the older brother plaguing his sister’s playmates, but now there was an edge to it that said he wanted more.
    I could kiss him, right here and now
. A thrill passed down her spine. She could feel his breath on her face, warm and clean. She had dreamed of this moment, ached for it, but the timing was all wrong. This night had been far too unkind to lovers. “By your own admission, the delivery is late. I don’t pay for such poor service.”
    “Not even as an incentive to improve?”
    She hesitated just long enough to see his expression grow speculative.
He means no harm, but has no idea of the power he has. He could crush my heart like an egg, and he would just be playing. He’d forget me, just like he forgot the letter
.
    She jerked her hand away and snatched the paper from Tobias. “I’d like to keep my reputation, thank you.”
    “Do you think so poorly of my intentions?” he asked mockingly.
    She wasn’t listening anymore. With trembling hands, she fumbled the letter open. “It’s too dark to read!” Her voice was thin with dismay.
    He chuckled. “Poor Evelina. It’s a prescription.”
    “Pardon?”
    They’d almost reached the corner of the school. A little way ahead, gaslights cast sparkles on the lawn, where the snow was beginning to coat the grass. Swirls of it played in the crisp air as if a whole flock of devas were dancing.
    He tugged a lock of her hair, back to the playful quasi-brother. “A prescription to wipe that tragic look off your face. You look wrung out. Not even threatening to kiss you will cheer you up.”
    She wanted to say the right thing, to be the soft and playful girl, but it wasn’t in her tonight. “What does your mother say in the letter?”
    “She’s invited you to spend the holidays with us. It was Imogen’s idea, but my mother and your grandmother agreed. And if I dare say it, you look like you could use a dose of plum pudding.”
    Evelina stared at the paper, then raised her eyes to Tobias, who was regarding her with a smirk.
I shot a walking corpse. I burned the body. And he talks to me of plum pudding
. But oddly, unexpectedly, she was grateful that he did. Kindness had its own power against monsters.
    I have somewhere to go
. Relief touched her, as soft and sweet as the falling snow. There would be a tomorrow, and it would be among friends. It was more than she had dared to hope. “Pudding sounds delightful.”

The Strange and Alarming Courtship of Miss Imogen Roth
    June 1888
    London
    What was more intriguing than a mysterious parcel, especially one wrapped in rose-colored tissue spangled with gold stars?
Nothing
, thought Imogen.
Nothing at all
. The ribbon curled like feathery gold question marks, teasing her with the possibility of what lay inside.
    She pulled her wrap around her and slid up the window sash to let the warm breeze flood in. It was a beautiful summer morning, all blue sky and chirping birds. The maid had already delivered the tray with Imogen’s morning chocolate, pushed open the bedroom curtains, and curtsied her way out of the room. Imogen was usually slow to pry herself out of bed, but as soon as she had rolled over to face the brightly shining day, she had seen what the maid had not—the pink box tucked in the corner of the ledge outside the window. After that, she’d been up like a shot.
    Imogen reached through the window, carefully grasping the teetering parcel. The paper