Alexander-Fyn-Sanguinarian

in England in these changing times.”
    “My lord, you surprise me.” Evangeline turned to him, drawing a smile from Raven. “You have all sorts of sides to your character that I would never have suspected.”
    His smile deepened, making him handsome in a more appealing, less severe way. “I’m happy I am able to surprise you—pleasantly, that is,” he added.
    “And you, Mr. Shipman, I’m very impressed that you are a poet.”
    “How do you both know each other?” Shipman asked in return.
    “You seem rather mismatched to me, a proper little lady and a free-thinking lord.”
    Raven answered for her, not liking the way Shipman smiled at Evangeline, nor her responsiveness to it. “We were engaged to be married, but it did not work out as either of us would have wished.”

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    “So now we are trying to be friends while my companion, an older lady, recovers from the scarlet fever here in the castle,” Evangeline told him. “Munk is nursing her.”
    Shipman raised his eyes comically. “God help her then.”
    Evangeline burst out laughing. Raven wanted to kill Shipman on the spot and banish Evangeline back to the tower. “Munk is the most loyal and true of servants,” he said.
    “She is indeed. Forgive me, my lord,” Evangeline said.
    They passed the next few hours talking and eating while Raven looked forward more and more to the moment when he would slit Shipman’s throat. Several times, especially when he made a joke and Evangeline laughed, he felt like doing it right there at the table. How dare this man make up to his lady in front of him? When Shipman remarked that it was “bloody freezing in here,” Raven laughed even though he wanted to backhand him, and Evangeline looked at him in surprise.
    “There truly is another side to you, my lord. I had no idea you had a sense of humour.”
    Why had he not shown her his sense of humour before? Not that he had much of one. He had approached this whole marriage issue the wrong way from the start. If only he has known there was another way to be with a lady he could have tried it.
    “Is Raven not the sort of man to make a lot of jokes?” Shipman asked, smiling.
    “Not so far, Mr. Shipman,” Evangeline replied. “He is a very serious man most of the time.”
    “We’ll make a pact then, just between the two of us, Miss Rutledge.” His smile was full of intimacy.
    “What sort of pact, Mr. Shipman?” Evangeline’s smile was conspiratorial.
    “To make his lordship laugh at least once a day.” He chuckled.
    Raven clenched his fists under the table. If the man made one joke about him it would all be over with Evangeline watching in horror.

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    There was a moment of tension which was felt by all three. Shipman broke it by making an unflattering joke about the queen, but instead of laughing Evangeline defended her majesty. “Queen Victoria is as beloved in the empire as she is on the streets of London. I think you will find even those who are terribly poor are loyal to her majesty and know she is working to better their lot.”
    Shipman’s expression grew very serious and he was about to speak when Raven said, “We feel as you do, Evangeline. Do not upset yourself, my dear.” He looked at Shipman. “We are loyal to her majesty in this castle.”
    “Yes, of course we are.” Shipman drank his beer.
    At precisely ten o’clock Evangeline left the gentlemen to their port. His patience gone, Raven rose. “Come, Mr. Shipman. Let us get down to business. Follow me.”
    They stood out on the windy turret of the west tower, looking down over the wall to the ground far below. Shipman hugged himself against the biting cold, not nearly so cheery without Evangeline to amuse.
    “You don’t feel it do you, Raven?” He could barely speak for shivering. His teeth chattered noisily. “The cold doesn’t bother you.”
    It aggravated Raven that the man refused to use his title, but it mattered not since he would be dead shortly. “I would freeze just as any other man would if I lay out all night in this, but no, I am not cold right now. I find it invigorating.”
    He had more or less decided to slit the traitor’s throat, though just for a moment he thought throwing him over the wall might do just as well. He much preferred it when they sent him after victims on their own ground because then he could leave the body there. There were only so many places one could dump a body before his land would become littered with