They decided the mummy would be unwrapped, for the titillation of the ladies, just after dinner.

"My father," she admitted, "was of Italian extraction. Unfortunately, not an affliction that can be cured." She paused. "Though he did die."

She took a moment to lament her lack of parasol. Every time she left the house, she felt keenly the absence of her heretofore ubiquitous accessory.

Alexia blinked stupidly at the Beta from around the earl’s upper arm. Her heart was doing crazy things, and she still could not locate her kneecaps. She took a deep breath and put some serious attention into tracking them down.

Oh, dear me, no. Then I should be known as that vampire with all the cats.

Ever since her trip with Alexia to Scotland, Mrs. Tunstell had rather a taste for foreign travel. Alexia blamed it on the kilts.

Lord Maccon was built like a brick outhouse, with opinions twice as unmoving and often equally full of crap.