“The Hardings were inside, as was Catherine, the duke of Rutherford, his son, Dom St. Georges, and a physician who had been immediately summoned to attend to Jon. He had been carried there by his brother. Fred Stanhope was dead. Violette stood hunched against the wall just outside of the closed doors, shaking violently, tears streaming down her face. She prayed desperately that Jon was not dead. But how could any human being survive such a fall? And there had been so much blood. The ball was sum...marily finished. The guests had left in pairs and clusters, speaking in hushed tones, aghast and shocked. Violette had not even thought about departing. Anne St. Georges appeared, her face pale and set in grave lines. She regarded Violette as she approached. Violette inhaled, trembling visibly. “What is happening?” she whispered. “I must know!” Anne touched her shoulder. “Shall we go inside?” An image of Jon’s face, etched in terror, just before the railing broke, seared Violette’s mind.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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