Alexander-Fyn-Sanguinarian

to her taste, things would be easier. She tells me I am ugly.”
    “Ugly indeed! It is she who needs to improve her appearance. It is unfortunate you cannot wed one of our own, my lord, one who would appreciate the remarkable man you are.”
    “It would make life easier, I know, but there has been far too much interbreeding among our kind. There are too few of us now. We must bring in new blood to strengthen our line.”
    Munk nodded sadly. “Interbreeding keeps the bloodlines pure, but then it can also result in many problems, as we now know.”
    “Do you believe it is the reason Lady Dominica suffers madness?”
    he asked.
    “I think there can be no doubt, my lord.”
    He nodded, accepting her word. “Evangeline must give me a child, hopefully twins.”
    “Let us hope the child she gives you is of the blood , not of her kind,” Munk said. “Sadly, there is no way to predict these things, my 128
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    lord.”
    “I too hope my children will be of the blood , but you must be good to her, Munk, to Miss Rutledge, be kind. She is an innocent.”
    “And if she makes another attempt at escape, my lord?”
    He shook his head. “That won’t happen. She has learned her lesson. She knows I am not to be trifled with. If only she could feed me,” he said wistfully.
    “I doubt she ever will do that, my lord. In fact, I think you will be fighting that girl for a long time to come.”
    For a moment his heart sank at the prospect, and then rallied again when a couple came up the steps. “Lord Ravenscroft, well met!” They embraced. He was among his own, as it should be.
    “Shall I go now and bring Lady Dominica to the gathering?”
    Munk inquired. “She looks more beautiful than usual tonight, my lord. She looks absolutely stunning.”
    “Thank you, Munk, yes, bring her to her people.”
    “Shall I tell her of the announcement or will you, my lord?”
    “You tell her, Munk, but be sure to give her her drops first to calm her.”

    * * * *

    Dressed in the only gown she had, a plain gray wool, her hair tied back with a single ribbon, Evangeline padded her bed with the wedding gown to the rough shape of a body, pulled on her only shawl, and let herself out of her tower prison. She had no boots, only soft slippers on her feet.
    The freezing corridor was so dark she could see nothing and felt her way along the damp, stone walls, wishing she had had the sense to bring a candle and a blanket from the bed. She could break her neck in the darkness and put an end to all her troubles in one fell swoop.
    At the tower steps she turned sharply to her right, following the passage along through the darkness, not wanting to emerge at the Sanguinarian 129
    bottom of the east tower steps in case she bumped into Munk coming up to see her. Even in the darkness she knew that the walls were crumbling and water streamed down them in certain places. No wonder Raven was so desperate to wed—the castle was all but ruined.
    Light ahead both attracted and disconcerted her. The main staircase was lit all the way down with candles high up on the walls.
    Surely that was unusual. In her short stay at Castle Haven she had never seen the castle lit up. Evangeline knew that to descend the main staircase would be a mistake. If she were to get caught anywhere it would be there. She had to get down by one of the four tower stairs and since she did not know the castle at all, she would have to take a chance.
    At the next tower she took fate into her hands and, plastering herself against the stone wall of the narrow spiral staircase, she began her descent. The further down she tiptoed, the more noise she heard.
    There was a low hum of voices, a clattering of dishes and a chinking of glasses, as though a great many people had gathered for dinner.
    She could not imagine Raven having that many friends.
    Shivering, with her back flat against the freezing wall, she looked out carefully to find that she was in the far corner of the Great Hall.
    Momentarily, she was distracted by a perfect view of the most bizarre scene she had ever witnessed.
    On a dais at the far end of the Great Hall, seated side by side on large carven chairs behind a trestle table, sat an elderly man, tall and dignified, looking very smart in his evening clothes. Beside him sat a woman, equally well-dressed and possibly his wife. Among the throng Evangeline saw faces she recognized from the Black Cross, and Madame Blethin, the seamstress, was there.
    The Great Hall was