AFTER MIDNIGHT MM

by MEDEIROS TERESA

• ISBN13: 9780060762995
• ISBN10: 0060762993
• Edition: Revised
• Format: Paperback
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publications

Summary

"Our sister is marrying a vampire." When the ever practical Caroline Cabot first hears those words from the lips of her fanciful youngest sister, she accuses Portia of having a wild imagination. But when she discovers their sister Vivienne is actually being courted by Adrian Kane, the mysterious viscount rumored to be a vampire, she decides to accept his invitation to a midnight supper and do some sleuthing of her own. To both her delight and her dismay, she soon finds herself falling under Kane's bewitching spell. After all, what's a proper young lady to do when her sister's suitor arouses more than just her suspicions?

Excerpts

After Midnight

Chapter One

"Our sister is marrying a vampire," Portia announced.

"That's nice, dear," Caroline murmured, makinganother neat notation in the open ledger onthe writing desk.

She'd long ago learned to ignore her seventeen-year-old sister's rioting imagination and penchantfor drama. She couldn't afford to abandon her responsibilitiesevery time Portia spotted a werewolfsniffing around the trash heap or fell back uponthe sofa in a semiswoon and announced that shewas coming down with the Black Plague.

"You must write Aunt Marietta immediatelyand insist that she send Vivienne home to us beforeit's too late. We're her only hope, Caro!"

Caroline glanced up from the column of numbers,surprised to find her baby sister lookinggenuinely distressed. Portia stood in the middleof the dusty parlor, clutching a letter in one tremblinghand. Her dark blue eyes looked stricken and her normally rosy cheeks were as pale as ifsome cloaked fiend had already sucked all theblood from her tender young heart.

"What on earth are you going on about now?"Her concern growing, Caroline laid aside her penand slipped off the stool. She'd been hunchedover the writing desk for nearly three hours,struggling to find some creative way to subtractthe monthly expenses from their household accountswithout making the final tally add up toless than zero. Shrugging the tension from hershoulders, she pried the letter from her sister'shand. "Surely it can't be as grim as all that. Let mehave a look."

Caroline immediately recognized their middlesister's flowery scrawl. Brushing a pesky strand ofpale blond hair from her eyes, she quickly scannedthe letter, skipping over the endless descriptions oftulle-draped ball gowns and sprightly curriclerides down Rotten Row in Hyde Park. It didn'ttake her long to hone in on the passage that haddrained all the color from Portia's face.

"My my," she murmured, arching one eyebrow."After only a month in London it appears ourVivienne has already acquired a suitor."

Caroline refused to recognize the familiar pangin her heart as envy. When their aunt Mariettahad offered to sponsor Vivienne's debut, it hadnever occurred to Caroline to point out that herown Season had been indefinitely postponedwhen their parents had perished in a carriage accident on the very eve of her introduction tocourt. And Caroline had soundly dismissed thosesame pangs when Vivienne departed for Londonwith a trunk packed with all of the beautifulthings their mother had chosen for her own postponeddebut. It was a waste of valuable time tomourn a past that could never be changed, adream that could never be realized. Besides, atfour-and-twenty, Caroline was now so firmly entrenchedon the shelf that it would take an earthquaketo dislodge her.

"A suitor? Amonster, you mean!" Portia peeredover Caroline's shoulder, one of her sable ringletstickling Caroline's cheek. "Did you fail to note theblackguard's name?"

"On the contrary. Vivienne has transcribed it inher boldest hand with a number of lovingly lavishembellishments." Caroline grimaced at thesecond page. "Good heavens, did she actually dotthe i with a heart?"

"If the mere whisper of his name doesn't striketerror in your own heart, then you must be unawareof his reputation."

"I am now." Caroline continued to scan the letter."Our sister has thoughtfully provided a mostextensive catalogue of his charms. From her glowingrecitation, one can assume the gentleman's listof virtues is rivaled only by the Archbishop ofCanterbury's."

"While she was extolling the fine cut of his neckclothand his many kindnesses to widows and orphans, I don't suppose she bothered to mention thefact that he's a vampire."

Caroline rounded on her sister, her scant patienceevaporating. "Oh, come now, Portia. Eversince you read that ridiculous tale by Dr. Polidori,you've been seeing vampires lurking behind everycurtain and potted shrub. Had I known 'TheVampyre' would seize your imagination in such aruthless grip, I'd have tossed the magazine on thetrash heap as soon as it arrived. Maybe one of thewerewolves you've spotted digging through the refusewould have carried it off and buried it."

Drawing herself up to her full five feet and twoinches, Portia sniffed. "Everyone knows that Dr.Polidori didn't write that story. Why, he himselfadmitted to publishing it on behalf of his most famouspatient -- one George Gordon, Lord Byronhimself!"

"A claim which Byron staunchly denied, Ishould remind you."

"Can you blame him? How could he do otherwisewhen the ruthless and brooding character ofRuthven was only a thinly disguised version ofhimself? He can deny it all he likes, but 'TheVampyre' revealed his true nature for all theworld to see."

Caroline sighed, a vein in her temple beginningto throb. "His true nature being that of a bloodsuckingcreature of the night, I presume?"

"How can anyone doubt it after reading TheGiaour?" Portia's eyes took on a distant sheen Caroline knew only too well. Lifting a hand and strikinga suitably dramatic stance, Portia intoned:

"But first, on earth as Vampire sent,
Thy corpse shall fall from its tomb be rent:
Then ghastly haunt thy native place,
And suck the blood of all thy race:
There from the daughter, sister, wife,
At midnight drain the stream of life."

As Portia's voice faded on a suitably ominousnote, Caroline massaged her throbbing templewith two fingers. "That doesn't prove Byron is avampire. It only proves that he, like every othergreat poet, is on occasion capable of spouting momentousdrivel. I can only hope you have moresubstantial evidence to convict Vivienne's newsuitor. If not, I shall have to assume this is just likethe time you shook me awake before dawn andinsisted that a family of fairies was living beneathone of the toadstools in the garden ...

After Midnight. Copyright © by Teresa Medeiros. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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Excerpted from After Midnight by Teresa Medeiros
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.