Lady Wicked by Sabrina Vance Page B

silk slipper on the parlour floor, black velvet cloak
tied about her shoulders, the mask concealed in her reticule. That
was another instruction of Hamilton’s. No guest would reveal their
mask until they were in the confines of the carriage, away from
public view. Even Beth hadn’t seen it. It was just another measure
of how tightly Hamilton held the privacy of his guests. Scandal
could wreck lives, and Amelia preferred to move on only when she
was ready. Not when someone else decided for her. She hoped that
one day, society would move on from such scandal.
    The Hamiltons’ estate was a twenty minute
ride through the bustling streets. Amelia kept herself concealed in
the dark recesses of the carriage counting down the minutes until
she heard the call of the gatekeeper. Only then did she peek
through the curtained window, breathing deeply. The Hamilton’s
house sprawled in the distance, torches flaming as carriages
circled. Her heart pounded in anticipation.
    Fiddling with the ribbons of the mask, she
placed it carefully over her face, adjusting it until it was
comfortable then tied it firmly in a knot, then a bow with trailing
ends over her long curls. As the carriage rolled up the long
driveway, she checked her reflection in the window and Lady Wicked
smiled back.
    The masquerade was about to begin.

Chapter Two
     
    Lord Jeremy Hamilton paced the length of his
library while his brother reclined in a larger leather chair and
looked on in amusement. Finally Jeremy stopped, swiveled on his
heel and aimed for the decanter of whiskey, pouring himself three
stiff fingers.
    “She’ll come,” said James, leaning forward to
reach for his own tumbler.
    “She’s late,” was Jeremy’s curt answer. “Why
are women always late? They’ve had centuries to learn how to be on
time.”
    “Not every woman has had centuries to learn,”
James chastised his brother. “Besides, I believe it is called
‘fashionably late’. No woman wants to be seen as so eager that she
is first to the party.”
    Jeremy tossed the amber liquid back and
resumed his pacing. “She’s not the first. There were four and
twenty at my last count.”
    “She came to the last two Masquerades,
brother. She will attend this one. Intrigue will call to her.”
    “Maybe I should have called on her?”
    “Maybe I should have,” echoed James, a
teasing glint in his eye.
    Jeremy lurched to a halt, staring at his
brother with brooding eyes that made ladies swoon. After several
hundred years, they still didn’t do a damned thing for James.
    “I saw her first.” Jeremy’s voice was loaded
with possession.
    “She’s not a toy, brother.”
    “No, no she isn’t. She’s precious. She is the
first woman of our kind we’ve come across; the first of any asides
from ourselves. How can that be?” Jeremy wondered. For several
months he had observed Amelia quietly. At first he thought it was
her startling beauty that attracted him, but he’d soon realised
there was a scent of otherness about her that called to the very
center of his being. He had hardly dared believe what she was: an
immortal, a quirk of fate that had given him and James forever
life… and apparently this beauty too.
    When Jeremy and James had been reborn, amidst
the carnage of an ancient battle, they had thought immortal life
would be a wonderful thing. The chance to see the world and
everything in it, but in truth, never ending life wasn’t what they
thought. Instead they had watched helplessly as their sibling’s
along with their families eventually died out. Friends needed to be
left behind. They grew close to no one. Eventually everyone would
wonder how they stayed so perfect. Lovers questioned their never
aging looks with jealously and wonder, then succumbed to age while
their statue-perfect lovers lived on. It was a harsh ‘gift’ they
had received.
    Despite the never-ending unknowing, they
adapted well throughout the years, reinventing themselves time and
again until their original