Lady Charlotte tapped her chin with her fan. "Why does your papa like Lord Bernard? I forget." Anya hid her smirk behind her own fan before replying. "He doesn't. Papa says he's a stuffed sausage. Then Mama reminds him about the title and his money, and Papa retreats behind his paper again." Lady Margaret, Charlotte's …
"Wow, your dad must be really rich." Byron almost managed to sound as wide-eyed and awed as he was trying to look. It was a good thing the girl he was talking to was as unobservant as she was arrogant. The girl, who'd announced herself as Lady Amelia Littleham when Reba and Byron had failed …
“We need the best concealer you have, and the foundation with the most coverage.” Becky had towed Joanna into the space in the middle of all the make-up counters in their local department store. The floor was refusing to open up for Joanna to sink into. That was Sarah Wyndham behind the pastel pink counter. …
The new queen looked down at the latest candidate for the role of her consort. "It's an original tactic I suppose. A repulsive one, but original." Her words wiped away the kneeling man's smirk, he twisted his head to shoot a glare at the next man in line. The smirk had settled on his face. …
Byron glared at the smirking boy standing over his table. “Did you just threaten my cat?” “A cat? That’s not a cat, it’s my new winter hat.” The boy went to grab Misty who yowled and slashed out, drawing blood. “I’ll wring your filthy little neck.” Bryon scooped Misty behind him and stood. The boy …
“Charmed, I’m sure.” Lady Charlotte’s words dripped acid. Even someone as dense as Lord Bernard felt their burn, and squirmed. He attempted what he probably thought was a rakish grin. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your conversation, but I’ve come to steal Miss Anya away.” Anya flicked her fan open and grimaced at her cousin …
Misty dashed across the room, chasing the end of the ribbon Byron was flicking about. Reba was fairly sure the giggling farm girl who’d gifted him her apple-red ribbon at their last stopping point did not have this fate in mind for it. Or maybe she did, she cooed over the snarling kitten as so …
Byron’s new cat crouched in the corner of their inn room and growled. It had been fine until the inn’s serving girl had waltzed in with (barely) warm washing water and a request to. “See the sweet little kitty.” Byron had nodded to his bed, where the cat, named Misty for reasons beyond Reba’s understanding, …
“It’s a clue!” Emma withered Stephanie with a look. “It’s an Easter egg hunt, it doesn’t have clues, it has chocolate.” Stephanie remained annoyingly unwithered. “Maybe for you, my Mum likes to put a twist on things.” Of course she did, Stephanie’s mum was one of those parents who did ‘enriching activities’ after school and …
They were camping that night, set up in a roadside clearing used by trade caravans who’s plodding horses and bulky wagons couldn’t make the full run through the forest between dawn and dusk. It was a large clearing with a well-worn path to a wide, clear stream nearby. Tonight, the clearing was empty of everyone …
The DNA of Stories 