Plum had given him ten years ago and which he still carried on a string around his neck. He had arrived in town late the previous night, when the house was dark and the doors locked. Ten years later he knew it to have been the romantic delusion of a youthful idiot not to have straightaway seen the bloodlust lurking behind the spectacles she bore more in common with a hawk picking the meat from its prey’s bones than with a songbird collecting twigs and leaves. Verity Plum belonged squarely in the latter category.įor all she was one of Ash’s dearest friends and one of the few constants in his life, for all she and her brother were now the closest thing to family that he had in this country, being near her was a pleasure he meted out for himself in small doses, like the bottle of French brandy he kept in his clothes press, lest he succumb to the emotional equivalent of gout.Īs a very young man he had compared Verity, pen in hand and smudged spectacles balanced on the tip of her nose, to a bird diligently building a nest. But a fellow could be ruined by overindulgence in the second category of pleasure: rich food, strong drink, high stakes gaming.
A man could hold these pleasures at arm’s length, appreciate them with the proper detachment, and not mourn their absence overmuch. The first included art, fine weather, good company, and all the rest of the world’s benign delights.
An Excerpt from Unmasked by the Marquess Chapter OneĪsh knew all too well that there were two varieties of pleasure in life.
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