“The quiet clicking of her door handle turning was enough to awaken her. She assumed it was Miss Wantage, with one of her migraines. Cousin Margaret had warned her of them. Dulled by sleep, Cressida sat up, peering into the shadows, as a figure crept silently toward her bed. “What is it, Miss Wantage?” she asked, trying to dampen the annoyance in her tone. The shadow stopped. Cressida had raised the blind to allow fresh air into the room. As her eyes became accustomed to the dim light, the shado...w began to take on human form. It seemed strange that Miss Wantage did not speak or advance closer to the bed. “What is it?” Cressida asked with an edge of fear. Still, there was no reply. The shadow’s head turned toward the door. Cressida noticed that the head was smooth and the shoulders broad. Miss Wantage had been wearing her cap with the frilled edge. If she had removed it, her hair would have hung loose. This was not Miss Wantage. It was a man! “Beau?” she asked sharply. The fear was rising insensibly to panic.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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