“drawled Lord Morden impassively. The Reverend Joseph Proudfoot rubbed his plump hands together. “Fascinating, my lord. Fascinating.” The vicar’s daughter, however, gazed at the earl in shock. How could any human—even soulless rake—be so unmoved by such an event? As if Rachel had spoken, the earl met her disapproving gaze with his startlingly blue and wicked eyes. He raised a brow and said with derisive gentleness, “It was nearly a century ago, Miss Proudfoot.” Rachel hastily lowered her head an...d recorded the grisly details, wishing her color wasn’t always so ready to betray her. She found her writing was not as neat as usual, but it wasn’t all the fault of the disreputable earl. She had been prey to a morbid fear of burning to death since it had happened to an aunt when Rachel was but a child. She had not witnessed the event, but her parents’ whispered comments had made a deep impression. The thought of a poor girl being consumed by the flames of a Walpurgis Night bonfire was truly horrible.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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