By Sarah E. Ladd
Isabel Creston by no means dared to dream that love can be hers. Now, on the fringe of a woodland jam-packed with darkish secrets and techniques, she faces a fateful selection among love and duty.
For so long as she will be mindful, appealing and free-spirited Isabel has strained opposed to the principles and stress of the Fellsworth institution within the rolling English geographical region. not a scholar, Isabel set her points of interest on a gradual function as a instructor on the university, a secure but stifling institution that might allow her to take care of her more youthful sister Lizzie, who was once left in her care after her father's death.
The unforeseen arrival of a stranger with information of unknown kin turns Isabel's small, predictable global the other way up, sweeping her and her younger cost right into a labyrinth of intrigue and hidden motives.
At her new family's invitation, Isabel and Lizzie relocate to Emberwilde, a sprawling property adjoining to an unlimited, mysterious wooden rife with rumors and ominous folklore—along with whispers of whatever way more sinister. maybe even extra startling, good-looking males commence pursuing Isabel, forcing her to profit the fragile dance among appeal, the complex principles of courtship, and the hopes of her heart.
At Emberwilde Isabel will observe that the most important to unlocking the secret of her prior can also open the door to her destiny and protection. yet first she needs to locate it—in the depths of Emberwilde woodland.
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Extra info for Dawn at Emberwilde (Treasures of Surrey Series, Book 2)
Blackie yanks my arm up toward the nape of my neck and shakes me. 舡 shouts the old man. 舠We don舗t need no trouble. 舡 Blackie dangles me a little further out the door, then pivots and tosses me across the rolls of canvas. He returns to the other men, snatches the earthenware jug, and then passes right by me, climbing over the canvas and retreating to the far corner of the car. I watch him closely, rubbing my wrenched arm. 舠Don舗t be sore, kid,舡 says the old man. 舠Throwing people off trains is one of the perks of Blackie舗s job, and he ain舗t got to do it in a while.
Eat. 舡 That moment, the music screeched to a halt. There was an ungodly collision of brass, reed, and percussion舒trombones and piccolos skidded into cacophony, a tuba farted, and the hollow clang of a cymbal wavered out of the big top, over our heads and into oblivion. Grady froze, crouched over his burger with his pinkies extended and lips spread wide. I looked from side to side. No one moved a muscle舒all eyes were directed at the big top. A few wisps of hay swirled lazily across the hard dirt.
I hesitate and then take it. 舠I舗m Camel,舡 he says. 舠And this here舗s Grady. That舗s Bill. 舡 He smiles, revealing a scant handful of teeth. 舠How do you do,舡 I say. 舡 says Camel. Grady trains his gaze on me, and I meet it. After a while he gets up and moves silently toward Blackie. Camel struggles to his feet, so stiff that at one point I reach out and steady his elbow. Once he舗s upright he holds the kerosene lamp out and squints into my face. He peers at my clothes, surveying me from top to bottom.
Dawn at Emberwilde (Treasures of Surrey Series, Book 2) by Sarah E. Ladd