Unleash the Curse: An Imnada Brotherhood Novella Read Online Free

and lost the ugly thing.
    Blast and bother!
    She searched once more through the tiny reticule she’d been carrying. Empty. She checked her shawl in case it had become snagged in the fabric. No sign of it. She searched her bedchamber including under the mattress and behind the dressing table. Nothing.
    She could ring for a housemaid to search, but that would mean everyone learning of her loss by breakfast. What would Christophe do if he discovered she’d mislaid his family’s greatest treasure? Would he think she’d stolen it? Where a lady of quality might be forgiven, a low-born actress would be suspected. A shudder raced up her spine. No, far better to look herself. It must have fallen off in the drawing room. She’d not been anywhere else all evening. Perhaps it had happened during the dancing. She’d been passed from Christophe to Duncallan to his cousin Mr. Farraday to the vicar and back again in a sweep of laughter and music and bright conversation.
    It had all been lovely until she’d glanced over at the pianoforte to find Lord Deane staring at her, jaw clamped, brows low over eyes hot as twin suns. No wonder she hadn’t noticed when the great weight of the bracelet had slid from her wrist. She’d been unaware of anything but the intensity of Deane’s golden stare and her body’s traitorous reaction. She shook off both the memories flushing her skin and the scandalous ideas forming in her head to focus on the missing bracelet.
    She would sneak back down to the drawing room for a thorough hunt. If it had fallen off there, surely it would be easy to spot. It wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. Sliding her feet back into her slippers and dragging a heavy shawl over the wisp of her evening gown, she took up her candle. Lifted the latch on her door and entered the shadowy passage beyond.
    Head down, she hurried to the drawing room as a clock chimed the hour in four dolorous tones. The rain of earlier had passed. Silver light washed the room in dappled shadows. She placed her candle on a table and, beginning at the corner closest to the terrace windows, slowly swept her gaze back and forth over the floor.
    An eternity later, she blew out a frustrated breath. Perhaps it had been kicked under a couch or a cabinet. The room was littered with furniture; a million places a piece of jewelry might hide. Point of fact, she could say there was only one place in the entire room it couldn’t be—the pianoforte. She’d not gone within twenty paces of it the whole evening.
    Steeling her mind to the enormity of her task, she took up her candle and dropped to her knees before the nearest couch. Holding the candle before her, she swept her other hand underneath. Plenty of dust, a lost button, a shilling, and a crumbling cork from a wine bottle, but no bracelet. Drat it all to hell!
    A breeze ruffled the hair at the back of her neck and snuffed her candle. So much for seeing. She started to rise from her crouch to hunt for steel and flint when a deep male voice broke the silence.
    “According to Lucan’s note, he should be here any time. I wish I knew what brought him north. Last I heard he was in London.”
    Duncallan.
    “What kind of guest drags a man from his bed at four in the morning?”
    Deane.
    Triple blast! Surprisingly, neither of them lit a candle. Instead they hunkered in the dark like thieves . . . or like people with something to hide. She hunched farther down between the couch and a card table as booted legs passed by her hiding place.
    “The kind that has enemies. Why are you so grumpy? Did I interrupt a lover’s tryst?” Duncallan asked. “I know you’re seeking a wife, but not sure my cousin is quite your style. Melissa’s a bit mercenary, even for you.”
    “Don’t worry,” Deane answered “I’m well used to handling the machinations of scheming females. Besides, as long as a prince sleeps under your roof, I fall far down the matrimonial ladder.”
    Sarah could stand up now and explain her presence