“Kicked you?” Simon asked. “Who?”
“I don’t know…ouch!” Miss Waterford’s knees buckled, and Simon steadied her so she would not fall. “They did it again.”
Simon frowned. No one had been near Miss Waterford, and he would certainly have seen if someone had kicked her. But something was obviously wrong. “Let me take you back to your seat,” he said. “It must be a cramp. Perhaps if you rest for a minute.”
“No, I’m fine…ouch, my foot!” She lifted her foot. “Someone stomped on it!”
Simon was beginning to wonder if Miss Waterford was the one suffering from some type of madness. No one had stomped on her foot. He led her back to her seat and said,” Let me fetch you a glass of lemonade.”
He left Miss Waterford with the intention of fetching the lemonade, but all the while kept his eyes peeled forher.
And then he saw her. She stood facing a gentleman who appeared to be asking her to dance. She must have acceptedbecause he took her arm and started to lead her toward the dance floor. Just then, the candlelight in the ballroom began to flicker. A collective gasp sounded from the guests as the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. Chaos ensued when everyone started moving about in confusion.
Simon felt himself propelled forward—straight into someone. She fell, and he caught her in his arms.
“Light the candelabras!” Lady Cheshire shrieked.
But before her footmen had a chance to fetch their tapers, the fire magically returned, and the room was once again enveloped in the warm, comforting glow of candlelight as though no unexpected darkness had occurred.
It all happened so quickly that Simon would have thought he’d imagined it—had it not been for the woman who was still in his arms.
She blinked up at him. He could hardly believe how beautiful she was.
“I’m terribly sorry, Miss…Spencer, is it?” he said, helping her to her feet.
“Yes,” she said. “Miss Sophie Spencer.”
Her voice, like her face, was that of an angel’s. He bowed. “It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Spencer. I’m Lord Rodwell.”
“I know,” she said, a shy smile playing on her sweet, rosebud lips.
His heart swelled. He had no explanation for his feelings. He did not know this woman, but he knew he did not want to leave her side. “May I have this dance?” he asked.
Miss Spencer smiled and held out her hand, housed in a delicate, pink silk glove. He took her hand and led her to the dance floor, forgetting all about Miss Waterford and her lemonade.
Chapter Six
The guests hadbeen shaken by Aunt Mildred’s and Aunt Agnes’s antics, but Sophie noticed that they seemed to forget all about the ghostly encounter when Lord Rodwell led her to the dance floor. She could feel their eyes on her—on them. But she didn’t care. All she wanted to do was dance with this handsome earl. And dance they did.
They glided across the floor as if their bodies had been made to move in unison. Sophie briefly wondered if her aunts had put her and Lord Rodwell under some type of spell, but that wasn’t possible. They weren’t witches. They were merely ghosts. The spell she was under was one of a different sort. It was the sort she’d read about in books—when people fell in love.
“I’ve been searching for you, Miss Spencer,” the earl said. “Ever since I saw you at Highgate Cemetery. I didn’t even know your name at that time, but you captured my attention that day. I thought you were an angel.”
Sophie’s heart drummed in her chest. “I am no angel. Only a young lady who lives across the street from the cemetery.”
“I beg to differ,” Simon said.
Sophie gazed into the earl’s dark eyes and felt as if she were in a dream. She had not realized how lonely her life had become these past few years. She loved her aunts, but they were ghosts, after all, and living alone with two ghosts in a drafty old house with dwindling funds was no life for a young lady. Now,on this ballroom floor, in the arms of a dashing young man, Sophie felt alive for the first time in years. The orchestra, merry guests, abundant food, and the beautiful Mayfair home of Lady Cheshire brought back memories of her old life and made her yearn for all she’d lost. Her aunts were right. It was time she married and created a new family and home for herself. That is what Papa would have wanted for her.
Suddenly, an icy wind swept through the room and, once again, the candelabras were extinguished. Before Sophie had time to process what was happening, cold hands grabbed her tightly around the waist. Then she was elevated off the ground and traveling at an unnatural speed through the air. Her heart raced. This was not the work of her aunts, of that she was certain.
Her captor, whoever he or whateveritwas, hurled her into her carriage with such force that she almost hit her head against the window. Then the doors slammed shut, and the carriage sped through the streets as though it were flying. Something was horribly wrong. She tried the door, but it would not budge. She sat up and strained to see who was driving the vehicle, and to her horror, saw no horses pulling the carriage. Even so, they were moving at a supernatural speed, even faster than her ghostly aunts were able to move.
There was only one creature on earth capable of such speed—a vampire. Alexi had kidnapped her.
When the carriage came to an abrupt stop, the door shot open, and Sophie’s worst fear was confirmed. The vampire, draped in his black hooded cloak, whisked her out of the carriage with superhuman strength and slung her over his shoulder. Then he hurtled through the dark, misty cemetery.
*
