Alexander-Fyn-Sanguinarian

minute.” He went suddenly silent and tugged his forelock before backing through the shadowed doorway to disappear from sight.
    The fine hairs standing up suddenly on the back of her neck, Evangeline turned round to see Raven standing, hugely tall, under the stone arch through which the coach would soon drive. The arch was wide and high enough to accommodate a large mail coach and yet Raven’s long, narrow body seemed to fill it, blocking out the light.
    His presence filled the courtyard until for a moment it seemed even the birds stopped singing.
    Raven stepped out into the morning sunlight, pushing his blue lenses closer to protect his eyes and at the same time putting on a broad-brimmed black hat. He strode forward until he loomed over her.
    “Evangeline,” he whispered.
    His eyes bored into hers and she found herself unable to break his gaze. A trembling began at the core of her being as if he were Sanguinarian 171
    reaching inside her to snatch at her very soul. With great strength of will she tore her gaze away from his, felt the trembling stop and turned her back.
    He grabbed her roughly by the arm, and just as quickly, let her go.
    “Forgive me, I have a foul temper,” he whispered. It was that and his heartfelt sigh that made her turn back to face him. His shoulders were slouched forward, his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets like a schoolboy. Evangeline ordered herself not to feel sorry for him.
    “Excuse me, my lord, I am looking for Mrs. Brackett. The coach to London will arrive soon and we plan to be on it.”
    “She is not here,” he said, almost apologetically.
    “She is here somewhere. We will be leaving shortly.” Even as she spoke Evangeline heard the clatter of horse’s hooves and the heavy rattle of the public coach approaching. It turned into the courtyard and stopped just feet from where they stood. The driver got down at once and a boy came running out of the stable to unhitch and replace the horses. The passengers disembarked, some going into the inn, others out to the street.
    “When will you be leaving?” she asked the driver.
    “Soon as we’re hitched,” he said off-handedly. “I’m going inside to get some grub. We’ll be off as soon as I’ve got fresh horses.”
    “I’m afraid my companion seems to have wandered off. I need to find her before we go,” she said, her brow furrowed with concern.
    “That’s your problem. We’ll be leaving in half an hour with or without you and your companion.” He mimicked her educated accent when he said companion .
    Evangeline’s face burned at the retort. She turned away, but looked quickly back when she heard a whistle of breath being released. The man’s feet were dangling about a foot off the ground while his face turned purple and blotchy. Raven held him aloft by the front of his coat, speaking into his terrified face, “Apologize to the young lady this minute, you scurvy knave.”
    After several attempts to muster his breath the man finally 172
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    managed, “Sorry, Miss, I’m a bit tired is all. No cause to be rude to a young lady.”
    Raven lowered him to the ground. The driver, realizing it was Lord Ravenscroft he had vexed, shuffled back and forth on the spot, clutching his cap in both hands. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I meant nothing by it, do forgive me, my lord.”
    “Get out of here.” Raven dismissed him with a shove. The driver bowed to them both before scurrying off.
    “He was rather rude, wasn’t he?” Evangeline looked up at Raven.
    “Excuse me, sir, I must seek out Mrs. Brackett.”
    She crossed the cobbled courtyard and went out into the street for the second time. She could feel Raven behind her, though he always managed to walk silently even when wearing boots on cobbles. She walked up and down looking into the windows of the few shops to see if Mrs. Brackett had wandered in and stood chatting as she was wont to do. She was growing very anxious when Raven caught her elbow, bringing her to a halt.
    “Evangeline, allow me to speak to you.” His voice was quiet and gentle.
    “Please hurry, I simply must find Mrs. Brackett, my lord.” She looked up at him, unable to clearly see his expression behind his blue lenses and the hat shadowing his face. “Could you take off those infernal spectacles, sir?” she said, exasperated. “Neither is it polite to talk to a lady with your hat on.”
    “You are right,” he agreed quietly. With one hand he removed his hat and with the