Yours Until Dawn
Chapter One
England, 1806
My dear Miss March,
I pray you'll forgive me for being presumptuous
enough to contact you in this rather unconventional
manner ...
"So tell me, Miss Wickersham, have you any
experience?"
From somewhere deep in the sprawling Jacobean
mansion, a tremendous crash sounded.
Although the portly butler who was conducting
the interview visibly flinched and the housekeeper
standing at rigid attention beside the tea
table let out an audible squeak, Samantha refused
to so much as blink.
Instead, she drew a neat packet of papers from
the side pocket of the battered leather portmanteau
resting at her feet and held them out. "I'm sure you'll find my letters of reference are in order,
Mr. Beckwith."
Although it was midday, the light in the modest
breakfast parlor was abysmal. Shafts of sunlight
bled through the cracks in the heavy velvet
drapes, striping the rich ruby weave of the Turkish
carpet. The wax candles scattered across the
occasional tables filled the corners with flickering
shadows. The room smelled musty and
close, as if it had gone unaired for ages. If not for
the absence of black swags over the windows
and mirrors, Samant ... read full excerpt from Yours Until Dawn ebook
