It's Wednesday so that means #MidWeekTease again.
How do I hear you ask?
Well yet again my soon to be available to jump on to your ereader tease is coverless.
(Mind you the cover reveal for The Scandalous Proposal of Lord Bennett is noon BST today ad published on 9th...you'll hear the squeals of joy...)
However, today I'm teasing you with Sybille's Lord which is also coverless, and will be out on 11th... It's the 3rd story in the Moon Curse Series
Chair Swivel Jiggle
Voices surrounded her, as they vied for her attention. All were familiar, bar two. They were the ones that worried her the most. Both spoke the same words but in oh so different tones.
“We need to restore the family’s fortunes.” She could accept that. It was nothing less than the truth.
“There is no such thing as a curse.” This statement bothered her, somewhat. After all her family had suffered so much bad luck.
“Pay the price. The heart of ye child to be liftin’ the curse. Dare ye risk it?
That she acknowledged was the crux of the matter. Dare they? With so much at stake.
“Each of us must play our part.” Oh how she agreed. If only she could…
“Sweet Sybille give yourself to me and all will be well...”
That was the problem statement. Two voices. Different tones, different emphasis, and, she was sure, different endings. If only she could be certain what each offered. One might be familiar… but no… it couldn’t be him.
“You won’t get away you know…”
“Nooooo.” Sybille Birch sat bolt upright in bed. Her heart was pounding, her skin clammy and spots swam in front of her eyes. That dratted dream again. Why?
Why now, when all she wanted was time to think. Time to decide what to do, to get out of the awful mess she was in.
Sadly, Sybille knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. With a sigh, gusty enough to move the filmy drapes around her bed, she plumped up her pillows, all thoughts of sleep forgotten.
Downstairs, in the main hallway of her parents’ town house, the old grandfather clock chimed five in the morning. As it had announced three o’clock when she climbed into bed, it was no wonder she was tired and irritable. Even the sweet scented bath her maid Maybelle had drawn for her hadn’t helped. Nor did the herb and lavender pomander Maybelle put under her pillow each night. Nothing seemed to help or to dispel her dreams, which, like a malevolent presence, teased and taunted her.
Sybille gave up any notion of sleep and pondered the thought always uppermost in her mind. How she could help her family. She’d made a poor hand of it so far. In more ways than one.
Damn Bankfoot. Not that she could only blame him. She was old enough to be responsible for her actions. No one had persuaded her to interact with Cornelius Bankfoot—well, except Bankfoot himself. And she could have, and should have said no. She was old enough, and ton-wise enough. No green girl in her first season.
Sadly not confident, or forceful enough. Combined with which, Sybille had thought him to be an honorable man, and herself clever enough to hold her own. Now she knew better. She’d gambled and lost, and the upshot was she had to somehow pay the price or get out of the mess she’d landed herself in. Suddenly restless, she threw back the covers and went to her desk. She’d fought against it, but realistically she knew she had no other option. Sybille now understood what the romantic poets meant by a heavy heart.
Mind made up, she dipped the quill into ink and began to write…
I am writing to you to accept your generous offer.’
With a sigh loud and heavy enough to make the candle flame flicker, Sybille put her pen down and cradled her head in her hands. Had it really come to this?
Catch all the other #MidWeekTeases
Love R x