Lord Monroe's Dark Tower: The Albright Sisters: Book 2 Read Online Free Page A

seemed deeply shaken. Could that be water pooling in his eyes? Whatever would bring a man like Lord Monroe nearly to tears?
    In her gentlest tone, she coaxed, “What is it, my lord?”
    “I must seem ridiculous.” He pressed his fingertips to his forehead.
    “Please … let me help.”
    Rubbing his face vigorously, he recovered himself. “There is someone here who is troubled. Your knowledge of herbs and medicine … ”
    Claire laughed. “Oh, what a comfort! I thought you disliked me because I practice healing.”
    “Not at all,” he said, “In fact, just the opposite.”
    “Oh, you’re very different indeed. Mrs. Gower has been so worried you’d think ill of me.”
    He clutched her hand, rubbing the back fervently. “Nothing could induce me to do that. You are the finest young woman it’s ever been my privilege … Well, the fact is, I’m at a loss where to turn … for this patient because it’s a complicated … perhaps, bad situation.”
    Claire took his hand and stilled its impassioned motion. “I’ve seen people die. I’ve seen the worst of sores and broken bones. Whatever your friend’s disease, I won’t shrink away.”
    He appeared so desperately worried. She prayed the patient wasn’t suffering the way Mrs. Optkin did — the blood and the baby, so still and blue. Her hands started to sweat and she withdrew them from his. Swallowing, she looked directly into his face and smiled reassuringly. “Everything will be fine.”
    He studied her carefully. “This is a strange sort of sickness. You may be shocked.”
    “My … ”
    “I can hear you,” said a girlish voice behind them. A peal of giggles, and then a pretty young lady jumped from the path into the alcove. “I’m like a little cat — sniff, sniff, sniff, and then I pounce!” she declared.
    “Abella, this is Lady Claire Albright. Lady Claire, my ward, Abella Carmencita Vargas-Duarte.”
    “I pleased to meet you,” Abella cried, her voice tinged with a Spanish accent. “Vav, he talk about you. He say you … precocious?”
    Claire didn’t know how to respond. Flavian had never mentioned he had a ward. Why did he harbor such trivial matters as secrets?
How strange.
But the girl’s lively good spirits swept all thought aside. About sixteen-years-old, her dark curls framed skin the color of freshly cut wood. Her smile lit the heart from the inside out. It was impossible not to smile back. “Precocious?” Claire said, chuckling, “my family finds me quite dull.”
    “Oh, they don’t know you as I do,” Abella said, with a cascade of giggles.
    Claire laughed too, caught in the giddy tide of Abella’s humor.
    “
Precioso
,” Flavian corrected. “‘Lovely,’ in your native tongue.”
    “Ah. Forgive me, Lady Claire. I make these mistakes, but I make up to you. Come hear me sing.”
    “I was speaking to Lady Claire privately,” Flavian said gently. “I do hope you weren’t eavesdropping.”
    Ignoring him, Abella widened her large brown eyes. “You on coach a long time,
si
? Oh, I make fresh like a child soon. You hear me sing.” She stroked her throat like a shopkeeper displaying his finest wares. “
Muy bueno
. Forget all about that old coach.” Taking Claire’s hand she pulled her down the pebbled path.
    “Actually,” Flavian said, following them, “the birds stop chirping to hear Abella sing.”

CHAPTER TWO
    Abella, cooing with delight, pulled two chairs to the center of an airy music room with floor to ceiling windows, and placed them near the pianoforte. “
Sentarse, por favor
,” she said. Flavian sat and Claire followed his example.
    The girl pulled her skirt aside and gracefully perched on the bench before the instrument. Her hands hovered above the keyboard, and she raised a black eyebrow with impish suspense.
    She’s utterly charming,
thought Claire.
    With a bolt of energy, Abella’s fingers descended on the ivory keys. They danced over them, striking bright, happy notes. She played with mesmerizing