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Dorsetshire, England

October, 1860

SHE WAS BACK

The thunderous knocking at the front door, followed by the flurry of departing footsteps, couldelse

With a violent curse, Eric Broton, shot to his feet, exiting the sitting roory strides

He didn’t need to guess the identity of his arrival He hadn’t a doubt who it was A visitor was out of the question No one dared visit Farrington Manor—not since he’d closed it off to the world five years ago

Except those who cae

Eric kicked a chair fro of the lattice-backed Sheraton as it sed in his eyes as he bore down on the entranceway door—awarrior set to confront an unshakable foe

Flinging the door wide, he waved away the cloud of dust kicked up by a rapidly retreating carriage—the second carriage this month and the twenty-second in four years

The dust settled, and auto stare toon the doorstep, who returned his stare through brazen sapphire eyes that held not the slightest hint of contrition or shame

“Hello, Uncle Fuzzy and I”—she gripped a somewhat tattered stuffed cat—“are back Mrs Lawley said to tell you I’m beyond … beyond”—she wrinkled her nose—“redamn-sin”

With that, she shoved her traveling bag aside, shrugged out of her bonnet and coat, and cast them to the floor An instant later she fired past Eric like a bullet

“Redearments “Beyond redemption Dah the house

Eric whipped about and stalked after the sound, confronting it in the green salon, where his niece stood beside the unlit fireplace, a shattered antique vase at her feet

“Fuzzy wanted to sit atop that side table” She indicated the now-vacant surface “Your vase was there So I moved it Fuzzy hates to share”

“Noelle” Eric’s fists clenched at his sides “What did you do to the Lawleys? Why did they bring you back?”

An indifferent shrug “Their dog tried to bite Fuzzy So I bit him”

“You bit their …”

“It was only his tail Besides, he’s fat and ugly So is his tail”