King's Kismet: The Chronicles of

Sloane King M.F. Adele

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 Copyright © 2023 M.F. Adele

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This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, businesses, incidents, and events are either used in a fictitious manner or stem
from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real events or real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by:

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Published by:
Langston Press, LLC

Latest content update:

January 21, 2023
 To Woody
My very own hellhound…
You kept me company through
seven of Sloane’s books.
I really missed you while writing number eight.
My office is quiet without
you snoring under my desk.
My feet are cold without you lying on them.
And my late nights are boring
now that you’re not here to bicker with me
about the rabbit in the backyard.
 CONTENTS

Disclaimer

Prologue
1. Sloane
2. Jack
3. Sloane
4. Sloane
5. Sloane
6. Sloane
7. York
8. Sloane
9. Sloane
10. Sloane
11. Sloane
12. Dolyn
13. Grim
14. Novak
15. Franklin
16. Jack
17. Vaughn
18. Sloane
19. Palmer
20. Sloane
21. Sloane
22. Briggs
23. Stone
24. Sloane
25. Sloane
26. Sloane
27. Sloane
28. Sloane
Epilogue

Character Information
Dead Characters
Other PNR by MF Adele
Contemporary by MF Adele
Co-Writes with MF Adele
About the Author
Author’s Note
 DISCLAIMER

This paranormal reverse harem romance is intended for mature audiences only.

King’s Kismet is the eighth book in the seven-book series, The Chronicles of Sloane King, which
cannot be read without first reading the attached series.

This is a series-wide disclaimer for The Chronicles of Sloane King.

Current books include: explicit language, murder, blood, graphic violence, and controversial
religious beliefs.

Current books include mentions of: child abuse, rape, drugs, domestic violence, suicide, and
open relationships.

If any of the scenarios listed trigger or offend you, please do not read this series.
If you have ​questions about the content, please contact me for clarification.

AuthorMFAdele@gmail.com
 Five Years Before Druid Dreams
Sunday, May 10th

T he late spring wind whipped through the garden behind Papi’s house, turning the pages of my
book. But it also carried with it the conversation my parents and Jack are having on the other
side of the open kitchen window.
Before, I had simply let their words fade into muted nonsense so they wouldn’t distract me from
my reread of The Time Machine by HG Wells…
Now, though? With my place in the book lost, their voices held my curiosity.
“Are you sure?” Jack asked, a sense of urgency in his tone that made me sit up straight.
“No,” my father—Nate—acquiesced. “It’s not time, but the situation is forcing our hand.”
“What about the others?” Charlie rumbled.
Though he was the Supreme Alpha, he rarely used his no-nonsense voice with his co-mates or
children. Family lunches or dinners were usually so relaxed for him, those days when he didn’t have
to be in charge.
“My apprentice is finishing up his degree in dentistry,” Sam commented, causing me to tilt my
head.
 What were they talking about?
Nate snorted. “Dentistry? Really?”
“Well, you know he’s a smartass,” Papi remarked, as carefree as the Second Devil of Hell could
be. “He thinks it’s ironic. I don’t know what else to say about it, other than if you break a fang, I know
a demon.”
“I’ve got the eldest Elliott,” Charlie commented as I inched closer to the window. “He’s been
back in the states for a couple of months. I’ve already told his brother what’s going on, so they won’t
push the subject when I send him out of North Fork.”
“How did I get stuck with three of them?” my father complained.
“Divine intervention,” Papi dryly replied.
Nate sighed. “I’ll send my apprentice and his fae friend within the next few weeks. The young
vampire needs a task to keep himself busy, so I’ve got to set something up. Will they be staying with
—”
“We’ll have to move them into a bigger place,” my dad cut in.
“We can’t move them far,” my father argued. “The mage apprentice has a job at the college.”
“Student at one, professor at another,” Charlie growled under his breath. “At least the other three
won’t be such a challenge.”
I wandered inside, my curiosity getting the best of me. “What are you four talking about?”
“Are you reading that book again?” Jack asked, taking my worn paperback from my hand to flip
through the dog-eared pages.
There was a perfectly untouched first edition on the shelf in my bedroom. That was one book that
would never see a creased page or highlighted line. But this book? It held bright yellow streaks over
my favorite passages and ripped corners from saving my spot too many times.
“Yes. It’s my favorite,” I replied, then repeated, “What are you talking about?”
It was a strange sight to see the Supreme Alpha unsure of himself, though that was the feeling I
was getting from him.
“We have a job that needs a certain level of discretion,” Charlie stated, tugging at his neatly
trimmed beard. “We’re hoping you’ll be up to the task.”
I shrugged. “Depends on what you’re asking.”
“We need you to free the fae king and rescue the druid prince,” Nate responded, the hint of a smile
flashing across his mouth.
“Uh-huh,” I hummed. “Sure.”
Jack cut his glare to our parents. “I told you she wouldn’t believe that.”
“Lo,” my father murmured. “I’m serious.”
“Where are they?” I inquired, observing their odd body language. “That sounds like two jobs.”
“They’re in the same place,” my dad admitted, still toying with his facial hair. “A camp in the Red
River Gorge in Kentucky.”
I furrowed my brow. “Why are they in the same place?”
“One was abducted,” Sam informed me, too carefree, like he was trying to make a joke. “The
other doesn’t know the trouble he’s walked into.”
“Do you know where they’re at within the camp?” I slowly asked, watching them tense.
“No,” Papi muttered, scowling at his vampire co-mate. “Our intel could only give the general
location of the camp itself.”
“How general?” I prompted.
Nate glared back at Papi as he answered me. “Within three square miles.”
 “That’s better than nothing,” my dad said, attempting to be encouraging. “The Red River Gorge is
nearly thirty thousand acres, forty-five square miles.”
I sighed. “When do you want me to go? And how long do I have to complete the job?”
“ASAP and ASAP,” Papi oh-so-helpfully informed me.
“With no intel, I’m going in blind,” I pointed out. “I’ll have to take a few days to find and then
study the camp so I can get them out with none of us getting injured.”
Nate wobbled his head as he counted on his fingers. “Take a day or two, but I don’t think you’ll
need more time than that.”
“Oh?” I scoffed. “Then you do it.”
“No one needs to live,” my dad griped, then pursed his lips. “Except for the fae king and the druid
prince.”
Jack snorted. “You should have started with that.”
I shot him a quick grin before turning back to my parents. “Who’s cleaning up my mess?”
“We’ll come through and clean once you’ve found the exact location,” Papi promised. “You’ll
have to take us back there, though. And—”
I held up my hand to stop him. “And who are they to you?”
“They’re…” Nate trailed off, looking at Charlie and Sam for the right words.
“Friends,” Jack answered, leaning his head against mine. “They’re friends of the Kings, and they
need help, Lo.”
“Fine,” I grouched. “But I’m going to make a mess of it.”
I stepped backward, letting the void envelop me with its frigid temperatures. The last thing I
heard was my parents chuckling.
The next thing?
Franklin setting my pink duffle bag of weapons on the kitchen counter of the apartment I shared
with Jack.
“You already knew they were going to ask me?”
The ancient vampire tipped his head. “Yes, madam. I also knew you would accept.”
“How?”
“Were you really going to turn down the opportunity to test your limits with murder and chaos?
This is the perfect job for you.”
I nodded. “I suppose you’re right. It just feels like everyone knows something that I don't know
about this job. I can’t shake the gut instinct that there’s more at play.”
“Do you have reason to believe they’re lying to you?”
“I don’t believe they would send me into more danger than I can handle,” was my nonanswer.
I saw the way Franklin’s cheeks rounded as he left without another word.
But did I think my parents were lying?
I couldn’t stop the thought from rolling across my mind.
They were the best people I knew, not that I kept many others around to have a decent baseline. I
would give them the benefit of the doubt, because I had no reason to believe they would deceive me.
If they weren’t telling me the full truth, then they had a good reason. They were extraordinary
creatures with more age under their belts than I could comprehend.
I’d learned to shoot a gun from a wolf who had fought in the Revolutionary war. I’d been nursed
back to health by a vampire who had walked the streets of Europe during the bubonic plague. And the
devil himself had taught me how to wield a sword.
So, I could kill a few people for them while saving their friends.
It was no sweat off my tits.
The hellsteed’s chuckle rolled through my mind. “That’s not how the saying goes.”
“That’s the way it goes now. Get out of my head, Jack.”
“Then close the fucking door,” my best friend snarked.
 Nail Gun Fun
Thursday, July 16th
Noon

T he repairs after our showdown with Alric’s army were still underway. But we were getting so
close to finishing them. York, Briggs, and I had been working for the last three weeks to get the
holes in the house closed up and ready for siding to be replaced.
The hole I blew in the dining room…
And the hole that spanned the corner of the second and third floors from one of the dragons.
Which one? I never asked.
But it was too small to be Sarge. So, either Joyner or one of Alric’s dragon friends.
The specifics no longer mattered to me.
The point was… Today, we were working inside.
The new windows had been installed in the dining room a week ago, which meant we could begin
hanging drywall. And we’d had a productive day until I’d asked for Palmer and Novak to help us.
York had been with me through some of the improvement projects I’d done when I first moved
into this house, so he understood the pride and effort I put into making this empty shell a home.
 He and Briggs were hard, hands-on workers. They didn’t worry about getting dirty, and I was
enjoying the shirtless, sweaty, dust-covered view. My wolf was covered in drywall mud from
fingertips to elbows with the occasional streak in his hair. York had clean circles around his eyes
from his safety goggles…
They were so fucking sexy right now.
My mage and my vampire, though?
They were the opposite.
Not that I didn’t think they were sexy, or they didn’t work hard at their jobs.
This was a little different, though. Novak didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, only that he
wasn’t going to follow instructions. And Palmer wasn’t keen on getting dirty.
Briggs was attempting to explain how to apply the drywall compound, but it wasn’t going very
well.
There were so many dips and creases in the mud that I physically cringed. I stood in shock, nail
gun forgotten in my hand, as I suppressed the urge to send them away, to do it all on my own. York
was helping me put in the new French doors, and even he had stopped to watch the train wreck in
progress.
“That’s an understatement,” York’s humor-filled voice echoed in my mind as he caught my
thoughts. “I can’t decide who will crack first. You or Briggs.”
He was right.
“You can’t leave it like this,” Briggs bitched, going behind them to fix their mistakes.
“We’re going to sand it down, anyway,” Novak commented under his breath. “It doesn’t need to
be perfect.”
My wolf rubbed his forehead with his middle finger, leaving a streak of dust-free skin. “That’s not
the point.”
“What is the point, then?” Palmer asked. “Why does it matter?”
“When you leave dips in the mud, we have to go back and fix it,” Briggs snarled, then took the
deepest fucking breath I’d ever seen to calm down. “You’re adding more work to our plates instead of
helping us.”
Novak snorted, sarcastically replying, “I didn’t ask to help.”
We didn’t have time for his attitude… But if he wanted to be a dick, then I would gladly return the
favor. I glanced from York to Briggs, to the nail gun in my hand.
Then I pointed the pressurized gun at my vampire, held my fingernail against the safety
mechanism, and pulled the trigger, shooting a two-inch nail in his calf.
“Ouch,” he shouted, frowning at his leg before giving me a wide-eyed warning, “Fuck. Be careful
with that.”
I shrugged. “Be careful with that mud.”
Novak’s mouth popped open, though his silence couldn’t hide his disbelieving grin. “You shot me
on purpose?”
“Aye.” Palmer chuckled. “She was careful, all right.”
“That fucking hurt,” my vampire growled, pulling the nail from his leg.
I nodded. “I’m sure it did. Fuck up my wall again, and I’ll shoot you somewhere else.”
My mage scoffed, then shook his head as he watched me. I didn’t even think about my actions as I
aimed at his thigh.
“Don’t you dare.”
I pulled the trigger, cackling as he jumped back. He really should have known better than to
challenge me like that.
“These are my good khakis,” Palmer ranted. “I don’t want to mess them up in—”
The air compressor whirled to life as the click-pop of the nail gun once more echoed in the empty
dining room. I grinned when he dodged my shot.
“Sloane,” he snapped.
“Palmer,” I replied, raising a brow.
“This is workplace abuse,” Novak muttered.
I shot at him again, too. But my vampire hopped to the left, using Palmer as a shield.
My mage shrugged Novak’s hand off his shoulder as he glowered at me. “You’re just adding more
holes to your wall.”
The click-pop of the nail gun on my right made me smile at York. Four more shots fired, two of
which hit my vampire.
But I finally nailed my mage.
Right in his ass cheek.
“Fuck,” he snarled, dropping to his knee as he held his hands up. “Okay. Okay.”
I passed my nail gun to Briggs and wandered across the room to my targets. Palmer glared when I
bent at the waist and snatched the metal from his flesh. I licked the tip, and he narrowed his eyes.
“If we’re going to have to redo your work anyway,” I sassed, bouncing my gaze between the two
of them. “Then I’m going to make it worth my while.”
“Is that the only tip you plan on licking?” Novak asked, his head cocked as he ran his tongue over
his teeth. “Because you could totally shoot me again.”
I snorted before I could stop myself.
“Don’t encourage her,” Palmer admonished, rubbing his ass.
“You challenge her regularly,” my vampire argued. “And then you get mad when she bites back. If
you hadn’t been such a dick this morning, you might not have a hole in your ass now. Isn’t that what
you’re always bitching at me about? Thinking about the repercussions of my actions?”
My mage sighed like Novak was just too much to handle. “So if I got shot for being a dick this
morning, why’d you get shot first?”
“For being a dick a few minutes ago.” He pointed over his shoulder, as if that gesture made any
sense. “Gods, Palmer. Keep up.”
 Druid Dreams - Chapter 9
Alternative POV
Saturday, May 16th
Late Morning

I popped a grape in my mouth as I took a seat at the patio table, content in watching Sloane act
completely unfazed by meeting her mates.
I tried to ignore the lot of them until after introductions were made.
It was hard to keep the smirk off my face as I listened to Sloane’s rambling thoughts. She didn’t
want to understand what was pulling her to them. So she wouldn’t… Not until I blew the lid off this
whole business meeting she’d set up. I wasn’t certain if I wanted to gag or scoff at her for thinking
she was in control and knew what to expect.
I already knew who they were; I didn’t need any more information than what I had already
gathered. Sloane would surely be pissed when she found out that I’d known who her mates were, but
she would relax when she found out how much digging I’d done for her.
Maybe. Who fucking knew with her?
Oh, she’d be raging at me in a few minutes.
 Would she really be angry, though? No.
Frustrated that I’d been keeping a secret from her?
Abso-fucking-lutely.
I’d watch these guys for a few more days, track how they interacted with my best friend, and then
I’d grill the shit out of them. Mates or not, if they didn’t have pure intentions with Lo, then they had to
go. I’d kill them myself if I had to.
I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that, but I wouldn’t write it off so quickly.
I caught the tail end of her conversation with the winter fae and sent them all a cynical grin. I lurk
in the shadows. They’d do well to remember that.
Nothing would stop me from watching Lo’s back and keeping her safe. The only one in the bunch
who would have heard any rumors about me would be the demon. He looked like a smart male,
though. He wouldn’t open his mouth to the others unless I was out of earshot.
The demon seemed suspicious of Lo, not that I blamed him. Her reputation with the supes was
nasty on Earth, and even worse in the Underworld. The rep she had here wasn’t really true, but she
didn’t want to fight it. It kept most supernatural creatures away from her, knowing she was the biggest
predator on the board.
The name she’d earned for herself in Hell? That one was well deserved. She’d forged that title
with the hottest of hellfire and the bloodiest of fights. I never could understand why it shocked the
demons. When you challenge the Devil’s heir, you’re bound to catch horns in the gut. Or worse.
“... I’m not sure what the shifter has been doing, other than camping in the woods and visiting the
closest local dive bar,” Sloane stated, waving her hand in the shifter’s direction.
She cut her eyes to me before sliding her thoughts into my mind, and I knew then that shit was
about to get real and entertaining.
“Am I being rude?”
I grinned at her, playful and devious. If I could see my face, I knew my ebony pools would be
glinting mischievously even though the late Saturday morning sun wasn’t hitting them.
The shade of the patio couldn’t keep the twinkle out of my eyes as I mentally responded, “I mean,
you could use their names. It’s not like they don’t have titles in front of them. You are looking at
four apprentices and the Prince of the Winter Realm.”
When her shoulders tensed, I couldn’t decide if she was going to cuss me out through our mental
connection or in actual words for everyone to hear. She slowly twisted the top half of her body
toward me and clenched her hands together on the tabletop. Her confused, wide-eyed stare nearly had
me smirking at her. It took more will power that I knew I possessed to keep my mouth flat and bored.
“Are you serious?” she asked me, fighting with herself about wanting to punch me.
I couldn’t contain the low chuckle that slipped from my lips. “Serious as a heart attack, bitch.”
“Well, fuck me. I wondered, but I had no way to really know for sure unless I dug deeper or flat
out asked, which seems really rude. Were you going to tell me or just wait for me to figure it out?”
She pegged me with narrowed, angry eyes while cursing me telepathically.
She was right.
I wasn’t going to tell her.
Before this.
It wasn’t my place. Nate was supposed to be here to fill her in when it was time to meet her
mates. But he wasn’t here, and she went and met another one of them without even realizing it. I
couldn’t tell her she couldn’t see him, or any of them. She was grown, and even then, she was my best
friend.
 I just wanted to see her happy.
The mage was a shady fucker, but I liked the vampire and the fae. I didn’t have a real opinion on
the demon or the shifter yet, other than the demon being a little too clean to pass as a regular demon.
There was something about him… I hadn’t quite been able to put my finger on it, but I would.
I watched in amusement as they all turned to Lo and me, eyeing us as they tried to work out what
we were talking about. Lo was on the fence, stuck between panicking or brushing off our
conversation. But I hadn’t had the chance to have my fun yet.
“Oh, sweetheart. Let me blow your mind, please,” I practically begged, making sure to use the pet
name the druid always called her.
I was fucking thrilled to witness her reaction. Several times I’d pleaded with Nate to let me be in
the room when he told Lo, and he’d always shut me down. I couldn’t wait to memorize her facial
expression so I could show him when he got back home.
After mentally stressing how much she hated me, she demanded the information.
“Tell me.”
Clipped and to the point, those two words were so sharp that I was sure they’d caused me to
bleed. Somewhere on my body was a flesh wound waiting to be seen.
I hit her with a self-assured smile, turning my theatrics up a notch just to piss her off more. I
puffed my chest out with a deep inhale, standing as slowly as possible from my chair until she ground
my name out through her clenched teeth.
“I guess you still haven’t read that letter, the one Nathaniel left for you?” I cut my eyes to her,
waiting for her to nod.
I already knew she hadn’t read the fucking letter, so I arched a brow at her as I studied her face. I
smirked at her with my best I’m an important asshole look before dragging out my knowledge. It
seemed like none of them knew for sure, but I had a feeling some of them wouldn’t be too shocked.
“So, Sloane King, may I present to you...” I paused as dramatically as I could. “Drum roll
please...” I made an utterly annoying rhythm while slapping my hands on my thighs. “Your mates.”
And then, just because I loved being a dick to her when I knew something that she didn’t, I flicked
my left hand across the table in a wildly ridiculous flourish and bowed at my waist.
I was so enjoying her stunned silence for all of a few seconds, and then she yelled, “Franklin! Can
we get some liquor, please?”
A few more moments went by with everyone being completely speechless, and I wanted to
fucking preen. Lo could read minds, for Devil’s sake, and could crack mine open like a peanut and
turn the pages like she was flipping through a book. It had been hard work to keep her from finding
out that I knew about her mates.
The insults currently running through her mind were creative, but I was more amused by how
vicious her inner monologue sounded compared to how calm her outward presence was. None of the
guys were any wiser about the cogs moving in her head as she pieced everything together.
“Jack, I’m going to fucking kill you,” she told me with a certainty that made me suppress a shiver.
She wouldn’t hurt me physically or emotionally, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t file this
moment away for later and give me hella shit for it. Payback was in my future at some point. I just
wouldn’t know when.
I was deeply looking forward to it.
Lo’s vengeance had degrees to it. She played dirty, but always managed to dish out fair
punishments. Where on her scale this particular incident would fall was beyond me, but I knew she
would wait until I let my guard down.
 When we were thirteen, I’d told our parents that Lo was buying thongs and skimpy lingerie. She
wasn’t mad, but she was embarrassed. The bitch waited two whole ass months to get back at me. I’d
been so pissed at the time, but looking back… it was just funny. She’d cut all my boxers and gym
shorts to look like thongs, and when I’d explained it to Charlie, he’d laughed until he cried.
That same year, though, Lo and I had overheard Sam talking to a close friend who was telling him
about how his mate had been beating their kids when the males were gone. We’d grown up with those
kids. She’d killed one child and the other two were near death.
That was the first time Lo killed anyone. She’d snuck out and slipped straight into Stars, visiting a
thirteen-year-old Dolyn and a six-year-old Hyde, before delivering her own brand of justice to their
wretched mother.
The demon had been so vile that no one had mourned her death. Not her two mates, and not her
remaining two children. But we had all mourned Dylan’s death.
Lo still wouldn’t breathe his name to anyone except Dolyn, and only if he brought it up first.
Fuck. Now I needed the liquor Sloane had asked for. I’d tuned out their conversation long enough
to feel lost.
“Wondering what?” Lo was replying to the mage.
That was when I knew I needed to step in and tell her the last little bit of the mate business. I had
to perk up first, or she’d drag me aside and question where my attention had gone and why I was
working so hard to block her out.
“Sooooo,” I interrupted in a sing-song voice. “Four apprentices, two Princes, and the future
Queen of Supes walk into a bar...” I let my poor attempt at a joke trail off as I wiggled my hips
suggestively, “Now, you’re just missing one more, bitch, and then you can really get this party
started.”
I was eager to see how long it would take them to figure it out and who caught on first, but I knew
Lo would blow a gasket the moment his name was spoken aloud.
The druid was a sore spot for her.
I’d been searching for him since he disappeared, and I’d come to the conclusion a couple of
months ago that he’d be kidnapped…
Taken?
Abducted?
Didn’t matter what we called it. He hadn’t left her high and dry like she’d been believing all this
time. I didn’t think he had it in him to leave her at all, so something must have been going on that was
bad enough for him to sacrifice himself to keep her safe.
Time was not on our side with the upcoming manhunt, though. He had to be found. She had to
move past her issues with him. She would need every single one of these assholes to fight what was
coming for her.
That was yet another secret I had to keep from her.
I couldn’t tell her and risk changing the course that was laid out for her.
The Fates would have my balls for breakfast if I fucked up their vision of the future.
 Tats & Torture

I growled under my breath as I shoved the contract away. All work and no play made me ill as
fuck.
My vampire blew through my suite door, into my bedroom, and then back to my desk in a
matter of seconds. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” I asked as he hauled me down the stairs with my shoes in his grasp.
Briggs joined us in the living room, pulling up the sleeves of his hoodie. “We’re taking you to get
a tattoo, Barbie. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Not an option,” he popped back.
“Wait,” Novak sang, holding his hand out to stop the conversation. “Is Sloane King scared of
needles?”
“Uhm, no.” I quirked a brow. “Why would I be?”
Stone hummed, smirking at me as he instigated. “Are you sure?”
“Shit starter,” I mumbled before answering. “Pretty sure I lost my head last week. Needles aren’t
that bad.”
 “Then we’re going to get a tattoo,” Briggs stated, his tone leaving little room to argue.
For them…
I could and would argue with anyone and anything.
They knew this, even anticipated it.
“What if I don’t want one?”
“What if there’s no choice?” York countered, grinning at me.
I studied my guys, feeling suspicious. “Is this a gang initiation? Because if it is, take me to your
leader. I need to know the rules.”
Vaughn scoffed. “So you can break them?”
“So I can kill the leader and change the rules,” I admitted with a shrug. “It’s not like I don’t
understand how organized crime works.”
“Yeah,” Novak drawled, rolling his golden eyes. “She’s totally scared of needles.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “Take me to your cult headquarters. But Palmer is coming with us. He doesn’t
have a tattoo either.”
My mage glared at me. “I can’t believe you just threw me under the bus like that.”
Novak dropped his hand onto my shoulder and pulled me through the void. We stepped out into a
neatly furnished apartment, though I couldn’t tell if anyone actually lived in it. Too many scents
mingled in the air.
Briggs and Palmer stepped out right behind us, catching me muttering, “This feels sketchy.”
My wolf scooped me up, tossing me over his shoulder in true captive form. I cut my eyes to my
chuckling mates as I dug my elbows into the center of Briggs’ back to prop my head up.
Palmer and Novak started gesturing wildly at my wolf, and I squinted in confusion. It looked like
they were trying to get me to pinch Briggs… But—
“Anal,” Novak whispered.
My mage snorted. “Don’t you mean starfish?”
Briggs spun, giving me a better view of his ass in the reflective elevator doors. But I was quickly
pulled away from the glorious sight before me as popping and grinding echoed around us. I could hear
the machine rising floor after floor at a snail’s pace, the gears and cables making more noise than was
safely appropriate.
“Are you calling me an asshole? Or—”
“Novak and I were debating on what would get you to turn around,” Palmer confessed. “Her ass
is a better view than yours.”
“Agreed,” Novak said, though I could hear the smile in his voice. “I mean. Yours is like the
second best to look at out of this group. Be glad Vaughn isn’t here. He’s got a nice ass.”
My wolf sighed. “You’re unbelievable sometimes. You know that, yeah? Palmer’s right there.
Way to hurt his feelings.”
I wiggled out of Briggs’ grip as the elevator pinged open. “I’m not getting on that. Did you hear
it?”
“The owners have the elevators serviced regularly to keep their tenants happy,” he explained,
grabbing my wrist to drag me inside as he hit the B button. “There’s a mixture of eclectic small
businesses here.”
“There was no shopping directory,” I pointed out.
“You have to know someone who knows someone to know it’s here,” Novak remarked as the
elevator doors slid open on the basement floor.
Palmer raised a brow. “So, be part of the cool kids’ club?”
 “Something like that,” my vampire agreed as he flourished his hand. “There’s no front entrance.
Someone has to show you how to get here.”
“Tattoos and torture?” I read with skepticism. “That’s what this place is called?”
“Yep,” Briggs replied, steering me toward the door. “Right up your alley, huh?”
“For her, yeah.” Palmer shook his head. “I’m not getting a tattoo in a basement parlor.”
A bell chimed as Novak pushed through the glass door. Buzzing assaulted my hearing, though the
sound was oddly calming. I expected it to stink of incense and dried blood, but the scent that hit me
was clean and sterile.
Black-framed images lined the rusty-red walls, filled with hand-drawn artwork depicting
creatures and faces and places. Some were gray-scale, while others had splashes of color or were all
brightly designed with no black lines.
“How goes it, guys?” The man at the counter greeted Novak and Briggs as if they were old
friends.
“Not bad,” my wolf said dismissively. “We brought you two new customers.”
He smiled, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. “Of course you did. You guys have run out of
space, unless we’re tattooing your faces.”
“They are not getting face tattoos,” I snapped, then tilted my head. “They look great on you, don’t
get me wrong.”
“No offense taken,” he responded before shrugging. “They aren’t for everyone.”
“I still have space on my hands,” Briggs informed him, wiggling his fingers.
Novak glanced down at himself with a frown. “I have some blank space on my—”
“If you’re thinking about tattooing your dick,” the artist interrupted. “You should remember I
charge a handling fee.”
I squinted at my vampire. Sometimes he said things that were just too much. Other times, his lack
of a filter made me curious about what he was thinking, or made me cackle at his absurdity. I couldn’t
decide which end of the spectrum another dick tattoo fell on.
“Awww, come on, Trouble,” Novak teased.
“I don’t know, man,” Briggs mumbled, tucking me under his arm. “She hasn’t killed anyone in a
few days. So she’s probably going through withdrawals. You wanna test Barbie’s patience knowing
we can’t hold her back?”
“Whatcha want, hun?” the artist asked me.
I grimaced. “They abducted me, and I’m just waiting for some helpful soul to call the cops and
return me to my home.”
Palmer huffed, calling me out. “Now who’s being dramatic?”
“Let us pick something out for you,” Briggs suggested.
“Oh, yeah!” Novak agreed with too much fucking excitement. “What about an under boob piece?”
“Fuck off,” I told my mates, mage included.
My vampire continued, “What about our names on your ass?”
“Or little flaming paw prints for your beasts—Sorry. Your hellhounds.”
I shook my head at Palmer’s pettiness. How many times did I have to tell them to keep their shoes
put up? Cronus saw a chew toy in the middle of the living room floor. Naturally, he was going to tear
it up. The hounds didn’t care who the shoes belonged to. They definitely wouldn’t ask for permission.
“Again, fuck off.”
Novak elbowed my mage in the ribs, making him grunt.
“What about tally marks for your kills?” Briggs queried, his fingertips dancing up my spine to
distract me.
“That would cover my whole body.” I scrunched my nose. “And then some.”
The artist stared at me, turning his head back and forth before snapping his fingers. “I know
exactly what to give you.”
“How do you know what I might want?” I inquired.
“I’m a dark seer, young King.” He gestured to Briggs and Novak. “Art is my medium.”
“What’s your name?”
“Arlys Gloom.” He held out his hand to me.
I furrowed my brow as we shook. “You’re a demon hybrid?”
“No. The Glooms adopted me, though,” he stated, beginning to set up his station with inks and
paper towels. “You know them?”
“I know of them,” I admitted. “It’s hard not to know the council members when you’re the Third
Devil of Hell.”
 Shifter Situations - Chapter 6
Furniture Store Flashback Scene

A fter lunch, York drove me to this chic furniture boutique just outside of downtown Nashville.
I’d been browsing their website for days now, adding things to my cart to view in person when
my druid had an off weekend.
That was this weekend.
And I was excited to finally start filling some of the rooms in my house.
The store’s signage was written in a cursive font that was difficult to read from the road. The dark
gray shingles swallowed up the thin, bright teal lettering. But this was the place.
Sofas and side tables filled the display windows, welcoming us inside with their best selection.
That was their opinion, though. I was here for the more gothic pieces, the leather barstools, and the
sleek glossy desk.
I had a list.
We wandered through the store for ages before a woman in her late twenties approached us.
“How can I help you today?”
“I’d like to purchase all the items on this list and the two-bedroom suites in the far back right
corner.”
She glanced at the paper, eyes scanning each line. “All of this?”
“Each and every one,” I replied, smiling at her.
“Today?”
“Preferably,” I answered.
York raised a brow. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. It’s just a very large purchase.”
I nodded in agreement with her. It was a ton of money to spend at once, but I’d been working my
ass off to cover my own expenses.
“I understand your hesitancy,” I explained. “It’s no small purchase, though I can assure I’m good
for the charge. I can pay in cash, but I’d rather swipe my card and be done with it.”
“Right. Of course. Come this way, please.”
We followed her to a large circular desk with two computers and a man in his mid-thirties on the
phone. The woman typed on her keyboard, writing serial numbers beside each item I had on the list.
My druid tapped his fingers on the countertop. “Since she’s purchasing so much furniture at once,
will you be delivering it?”
“After we’ve verified payment and marked the items as sold, we can,” she muttered without
looking up. “But we charge extra per piece, and the waitlist is three weeks.”
“Well, that won’t do,” York whispered to me, pursing his lips.
I shrugged at him before speaking to the woman. “We’re not talking about buying a single
bedroom suite. We’re talking about buying an entire house full of furniture—”
“And I’m telling you, after we verify you can afford the purchases, we can then deliver it to you in
about three weeks. Maybe longer. We’ll charge our standard fee,” she snipped.
Though she was quiet after that, her thoughts rolled across the counter, slapping me in the face.
“Becky with her daddy’s money. I hate rich customers. Get me that. I don’t like this. I want it in
white. Deliver it tomorrow. Jesus. Does she want us to sleep on it too?”
I tilted my head to the left, and York sighed, rubbing his right hand over the back of his neck.
“Who owns this company?” I asked, my tone conversational.
“My grandfather,” she stated, uncaring of her attitude.
“What’s his name?” I continued.
She rolled her gaze upward, over the top of her computer to stare at me. “Why?”
“Will you call him, please?” I inquired politely, sugary sweet, as I pushed the smallest bit of
compulsion on her. “Tell him Becky, with her daddy’s money, would like to talk to him about this
misunderstanding you and I are having.”
Her demeanor changed from snippy to downright hostile, but her thoughts were filled with panic
as she stormed away from the desk to do what I commanded. “Was I talking out loud?”
“You’re going to buy it, aren’t you?” York asked, bumping me with his elbow.
“Yep.”
His island eyes glimmered with mischief. “Are you going to liquidate it?”
“Who knows? We should have gone to a franchise store,” I grumbled. “But I really love the things
I picked out. I couldn’t find them anywhere else within five-hundred miles.”
The man at the desk ended his call and turned his attention to us. “Can I help you find something
while you wait?”
“Maybe you can help me secure a delivery date within the next week.” I grinned sweetly. “I’m
willing to pay double to receive it before Friday. Everything I want to purchase is in stock—”
 “I’m sure we can fit you in,” he placated, his voice low and smooth as he studied my purchase
list. “Otherwise I’ll deliver it myself.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I told him, holding my hands up. “The company you contract out has a
great reputation for being on time and overseeing the care of their products—”
“So do I, miss…” He trailed off, waiting for my name.
I bit my tongue. “King.”
“Miss King,” he purred, eyeing York for a moment before giving me a megawatt smile. “No
ring?”
“She doesn’t believe in the sanctity of marriage,” my druid replied, his accent thicker as his anger
surfaced.
So it wasn’t just me.
“And I don’t need a ring on my finger to prove anything to the outside world,” I added, hooking
my thumb at York. “His time is all I need.”
A flash of images rolled across the man’s mind, ranging from my face on a porn star’s body to his
hand gripping… probably someone else’s dick. The skin color was all wrong for it to belong to this
guy.
“And a warm body in your bed.”
“And a warm body in my bed,” I repeated. “If it’s yours, preferably covered in blood.”
This was why I loathed dealing with humans. At least half the population, anyway. They had no
impulse control, and when it came to their thoughts, they were twice as hard to block out because they
didn’t know how to protect their minds.
“What did you say?” the man asked, shallow wrinkles forming as he furrowed his brow.
“All right,” York drawled, stepping in front of me. “We’ll wait for the lady to return. She’s been
more than enough help.”
“Craig, what are you doing?” the woman admonished as she stepped out of the office. Then she
turned to me, shoving a cordless phone into my hand. “Here.”
I tipped my head at her as I held the receiver near my ear. “Hello?”
“Hello,” an older man responded. “My granddaughter tells me there’s some misunderstanding
going on.”
“Not at all, sir,” I cajoled. “I’d like to schedule a meeting with you.”
“What for?” he inquired, a deep southern accent tinting his curiosity.
“I have a business deal you’ll want to consider.”
 Before the Harem

Y ork had told me he loved me too many times to count since we’d been together, but I had never
been ready to say it back. I couldn’t bring myself to confess the feelings aloud, even though I’d
known for weeks now.
Months, really.
Normally, I tried to stay out of his head. Tonight, that task was nearly impossible. His thoughts
practically assaulted me from across the small kitchen table. And his gaze constantly sought me out,
intently observing me while we ate our dinner.
The words continued rolling across his mind. He wanted to say them again, but he didn’t want to
make me feel pressured to say them back. He knew how I felt, so he would wait until I was ready.
I slowly set my fork down, biting my lip while he was lost in his spiraling thoughts.
He picked up his glass of water, and I admired the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Just
watching him move was one of my favorite things about him. The natural way he interacted with his
environment was hypnotizing.
The words slipped from my lips, uninvited but every ounce the truth of my feelings.
“I love you.”
 York spluttered, spitting water all over the table. I grinned at him, my chest tightening as I
simultaneously laughed and panicked.
“What did you say?” he asked before coughing.
I picked my fork back up, pushing the vegetables around on my plate. My appetite fled, leaving me
with nothing but terror. This was the first time I’d ever told anyone I loved them… Other than Jack
and my family. And they didn’t count for obvious reasons.
“Sweetheart?” he prompted, drawing my attention.
“Hmm?”
York smiled, then straightened his lips as he whispered, “What did you just say?”
“How was your day?” I asked, nibbling on an overcooked carrot.
“That’s not what you said.”
I shrugged. “I think I’m going to call my new SUV Rebecca.”
“No,” he drawled.
“What’s wrong with that name?” I countered, rolling my eyes. “You’ve shot all my other options
down, and I’m telling you that beauty is female. There’s no way I’m naming it—”
“Sloane.”
“What?”
His voice softened, brow lifting as he blinked rapidly. “Did you just tell me that you love me?”
“Yeah,” I replied, waving my hand dismissively. “And then I asked you how your day was.”
“Well.” My druid exhaled a shaky breath. “It has significantly improved.”
“Mmm, the meal isn’t that good. I won’t be ordering from that Chinese restaurant again.”
“Stop,” he commanded, his smile contagious. “You love me.”
I nodded. “I do. Pretty sure I just said that.”
York rubbed his hand across his face, chuckling to himself. He was up and out of his chair before
I could register his movement.
“Gods. I love you too,” he admitted, tugging me from my chair. “I love how difficult you are. I
love how smart you are. And I love that I still don’t know when you’re being sarcastic or serious.”
He pulled me into his arms, sweeping me off my feet as he rushed out of the kitchen, through the
empty house. I giggled as he took the stairs two at a time.
“I love the way you gaze at every sunrise with the same excitement as the day before,” my druid
murmured. “And how beautiful you are after a long day at work.”
“Even when I’m covered in blood?”
York flung open the rooftop door, laying me across the new grass we’d installed last week. He
kissed up my thigh as I smiled down at him.
“I love how unashamedly and unabashedly you are Sloane King,” he confessed. “From the spark
of chaos in your eyes to the blood that stains your hair. And all the little bits of good and bad in
between.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“You deserve more than just one of me.”
 Naked Bar Crawl

B riggs woke me up as he crawled out of the bed, but I couldn’t complain. Two hours was more
than enough rest for me.
It wasn’t like I didn’t wake him up when I got home in the wee hours of the morning.
Half-asleep Briggs was extra sweet and cuddly.
And horny…
Yet another thing I would never complain about.
The sleep sex had left me hoarse and shaky while he simply smirked down at me, finally
becoming awake and alert in the middle of our activities. After sharing a chocolate bar and a bottle of
water, we’d both passed out.
But not for long.
Now I was staring at his naked ass as he wandered into the bathroom to shower.
“Not that I want you to leave my bed when you look like this…” He popped his head around the
corner to let his gaze rove over me. “But if you stay, I won’t get shit done today.”
“What do you have to do that’s more important than keeping me in your bed all morning?” I
inquired. “It’s Saturday.”
 He grunted. “Are you telling me Sloane King doesn’t have work to do today?”
I rolled my eyes. “I need to find a replacement for Jack tonight, but that’s a problem for Later
Sloane. Present Sloane would like to rack up on orgasms and bite marks… And maybe wake
everyone up.”
“I’m filling in for Jack while he’s off work,” Briggs drawled, grinning as he raised a brow. “And
everyone is already awake.”
“What?”
My wolf leaned against the doorframe. “I’ll be escorting you to the club tonight to watch over you
while you sit in your booth looking bored.”
“Why?” I mumbled, struggling to focus while he was propped up, more skin and muscle on
display than a Greek god.
Definitely more impressive.
“Do you have a problem with that?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest before he snapped
his fingers. “My eyes are up here.”
I nodded. “I know where your eyes are. They’re like… my third favorite thing on your body.
Maybe fourth. But they aren’t as entertaining as your dick, so put that away and I’ll pay more
attention.”
He snorted at me. “Do I want to know the order of importance?”
“Mind, dick, tongue, eyes,” I riddled off, ticking my fingers down, before a thought hit me. “Oh.
Are you going to wear a suit?”
“If you want me—”
“Or you could do it naked,” I interrupted, smirking as I pointed at him. “I’d like that even more.
You could go just like this.”
“I can’t go naked, Barbie,” he remarked, chuckling as he prowled toward me.
I scoffed. “Yes, you can.”
“Pretty sure it’s illegal—”
“Pretty sure I own the club,” I argued, reaching for his arm.
I pulled him back into bed, rolling us until I was straddling his waist.
“That’s not how the law works, and you know it,” he grumbled, resting his hands on my hips.
“Fine.” I sighed. “Wear clothes there, then strip down while we’re upstairs.”
He shook his head, though he grinned. “I’m not taking my clothes off.”
“Not even for me?” I purred.
“Depends,” he retorted, shrugging. “Are you also naked upstairs? Because I heard there’s a pool
table we could put to good use… One the fae missed his opportunity with.”
 Druid Dreams - Chapter 28
Alternative POV
Tuesday, May 19th
Early Morning

D ancing in the greenhouse with Sloane had made me feel on top of the world. I’d missed her
and the simple things we used to enjoy together.
In my favorite place, with my favorite person, I felt like myself again.
If only for a few hours.
I knew I needed to sleep, but I also knew sleep wouldn’t come easy. Still, I dragged myself away
after kissing her forehead. When she apologized, and meant it, I knew I could mend what I’d broken
between us.
As I entered my suite, I hummed to myself. That Frank Sinatra song was stuck in my head.
Somethin’ Stupid was right. The entire time I’d held her in my arms, I’d wanted to tell her how I’d
never stopped loving her. It wasn’t the right time, though. She wasn’t ready to hear it, and I had
already pushed her too far tonight.
I grabbed a change of clothes, smiling to myself when I noticed the closet was half filled with my
things. I was sure she hadn’t unpacked them. Franklin probably had.
The thought that they were still here?
Yeah, that told me she hadn’t really moved on from what we’d had.
Now, I just needed to give her a couple of hours to think about how easy everything was when we
were together, and I’d be able to really talk to her. An honest talk, not a screaming match.
This was the first time I’d ever tried to sleep in this house and not been in her bed. It felt strange,
but then again… I’d been sleeping on a stone floor for so long that any bed would be a huge leap
forward. That the room was tailored to my personal tastes almost made me tear up. Having my own
space suddenly felt unbelievable.
I headed for the shower, leaving a short trail of dirty clothes behind me, just because I could.
Freedom felt nice, but my body still had aches and pains from the disuse of muscles.
The rapid healing the earth had given me when Stone and Palmer pulled me out of the dungeon
had done wonders on my body. The more time I spent in my element, the stronger I’d get. It was going
to take a few more days to get back to normal health, but I’d gladly wait them out.
My thoughts twisted and twined together like the roots of a Weeping Willow. The shower wasn’t
as relaxing as I had hoped, but maybe I was tired enough to doze. On autopilot, I dried off my body
and slipped into some cotton sleep shorts I’d forgotten were mine.
Well, they were mine now. They’d once belonged to Palmer, but I’d found them in the dryer at the
house we used to share, so I’d permanently borrowed them.
I pulled the covers back on the bed, paying no mind to the little details this room held. I’d look the
place over tomorrow. Tonight, I just needed sleep.
It didn’t come as quickly as I wanted it to, though. I tossed and turned. I beat at my pillow and got
tangled in my blankets, then kicked them completely off the bed. At one point, I just rolled onto my
back and pressed the pillow over my head.
I wasn’t trying to suffocate myself or anything.
I was trying to shut the world out. Trying to stop the flow of awful memories I’d collected over
the duration of my captivity. The pain, torture, and fighting were all swallowed up by the one memory
I hated most.
The day I gave in and stopped fighting.
I didn’t remember how long I’d been there when I finally gave up on escaping, but I remembered
the events like they were happening all over again.
The dead feeling of not resisting, the manic smile that had spread over Kelvin’s face when he
knew he had broken me, the shame and humiliation that washed over me.
All of it.
That day had led to the biggest power drain they’d gotten from me. It was the point of no return. It
had weakened me too much.
To say I had PTSD was probably an understatement. I was no shrink, but this shit would haunt me
for the rest of my long life. My only hope was to make so many good memories that they
overshadowed the bad ones.
That was my new goal, and it was why I had asked Sloane to dance with me in the first place.
She’d been my light in all the darkness. When I could muster up enough power, usually before a
drain, I’d try to push my dreams to her. I would cross my fingers and pray to anyone that would listen,
hoping I could catch her while she was resting.
If she could just remember some of the memories I’d asked the Fae King to lock away, then she
could find me before it was too late. It didn’t work like I had planned until it was almost too late.
 Fed up with my fight for sleep, I pulled myself from the bed and tried to find a distraction. I
wanted to go back to the greenhouse. I had once filled that room with plants from my homeland, and
somehow someone had kept them alive without me.
Or maybe… maybe they were only alive because I was.
They’d been wilted, but not dead, when Sloane and I had gone in there.
By the time we’d left? They were lively and vibrant. Some even bloomed in the few hours we
were dancing in their presence.
Upon entering a second time, I took stock of the room in its entirety. The smell of the fern-like
plants was heavy in the air. The sound of water flowing was a peaceful change of pace to my racing
thoughts. Colorful flowers had multiplied, making the space feel bright and homey, even in the dim
nighttime lights.
This room was my safe place. No one could reach me here, except the people I trusted most.
I wandered idly down the thin path to the center of the room. Spinning in my place, I soaked in all
the energy the plants offered me. It was a gift that I couldn’t refuse.
Not just because of my state of being, but because it would have been considered rude to refuse
them. They knew I needed the help, and I didn’t need to ask for it. They would always give freely to
me, and I always gave back.
I wasn’t greedy.
One plant caught my eye, its dead leaves drooping in the corner near the window. I walked over,
trailing my fingers over the stems, watching in forgotten awe at how beautiful the regrowth was. I
dared to hope that I would thrive like that after everything I’d been through.
It was a dream worth fighting for.
I’d been feeling Sloane’s anxiety and frustration since I entered the greenhouse, but I didn’t want
to know if that was about me or something else. I leaned my shoulder against the window facing the
backyard, trying to reassure myself that it wasn’t me but her work. I could see her sitting on the edge
of the pool with Novak.
It was hard to miss all his colorful tattoos and her wet, shimmering, silver hair even from this
height. She held a ball of fire in her hand, reminding me she could communicate with Samuel through
hellfire. I’d always found it fascinating, but she often preferred to call him over the phone.
After a few moments, the fire dispersed from her hand, forming a heart in front of her face. I
smiled to myself, knowing exactly how much the Second Devil loved his daughter. She didn’t
remember her mother, but the male parents she had did an amazing job of raising her to be strong and
resilient.
Novak stood and disappeared for all of ten seconds before returning to hand her something.
Movement in the woods made my attention stray from them. I thought it was one of the boys
patrolling, but the way whatever it was moved through the trees didn’t strike me as a four-legged
creature of any sort.
I couldn’t quite make out what it was exactly. Knowing it wasn’t the hellhounds was enough to put
me on high alert, though. I sped out of the greenhouse, taking the stairs two and three at a time, using
the banister to give me more forward momentum.
This was the first time in years that I’d been able to tap into the speed that I’d gained from Sloane
after we sealed our bond.
When I made it into the basement, where the indoor half of the pool was, I slowed myself down. I
had a brief thought that it wasn’t a what that was out there, but a who. Whoever it was had been
moving closer to the backside of the gigantic house.
 I didn’t know who they were looking for, but I had an educated guess. The only person in this
entire house who’d had too many assassination attempts on her life to keep counting.
Oh, she probably did.
I’d lost count, though.
I opened the door that led outside, scanning the tree line immediately. Sloane’s eyes snapped to
me and she took a deep, calming breath, trying to smother her emotions. She didn’t realize that wasn’t
why I was down here.
“Sorry,” she stated with a weak smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you with my rollercoaster of
bullshit.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her, covering my mouth with my hand, when I yawned.
I wouldn’t let myself be tired right now. We needed to be on our toes.
“I was having trouble sleeping before your emotions hit me,” I told her honestly. “So I went back
to the greenhouse.”
I didn’t even look at her as I spoke. I didn’t dare remove my eyes from the trees beyond the
clearing of her yard.
“I saw some movement in the woods, but it didn’t look like the boys,” I informed them, lowering
my voice.
“I haven’t heard anything,” Novak said. “But I wasn’t specifically listening either.”
Sloane closed her eyes, and I knew she was reaching for the hounds through her mental connection
with them. I waited patiently, glancing quickly at her to see her eyes bouncing behind her eyelids.
“Cronus is patrolling around the gate right now. I can’t reach Atlas or Helios.” Her eyes flew
open as she scrambled to her feet.
Her towel fell in the process, but neither of us paid any mind to it. The situation had just gotten a
little too real. I couldn’t admire the view when there could be some stranger out there watching us.
“What’s wrong, Trouble?” Novak questioned her in confusion.
He didn’t understand how her connection with the hellhounds worked, or how much she cared
about the fiery beasts.
Her eyes met mine, then Novak’s, and I felt her panic surface. She wasn’t scared for herself,
though.
She never was.
Frantically, she repeated herself. “I can’t reach Atlas or Helios.”
“I don’t understand,” he said apologetically, gazing into her worried eyes. “Are they sleeping?”
“No, mate,” I whispered to him.
Sinking my bare feet into the grass just off the concrete edging around the pool, I called on the
earth to help me. I needed to know everything that was going on out there. The plant-life was more
than happy to answer me, showing exactly what I needed. Not in pictures or words, but in feelings
and direction.
“They’re down. Atlas is on the west side of the property. Helios is near the garage on the east
side.”
“Do you feel anything else?” Sloane’s question was nearly inaudible, and I couldn’t be sure if I
heard her right.
I knew what the trees were saying, though.
“Someone’s here, Sweetheart,” I told her, keeping my voice as low as possible. “We need to
move inside.”
I grabbed her hand, tugging her with me as I took a step backwards.
 Novak was really listening now, using his sensitive hearing to pick up any minuscule noise. Even
something as quiet as a distant heartbeat could be heard if the vampire tried hard enough.
His eyes surveyed our surroundings with keen interest. I pitied whoever was out there for a split
second. All of us were fiercely protective and mean as cornered lions when we needed to be, but
Novak was a savage when he hit the end of his fuse. His bloodlust fueled him once he reached the
limit of his anger.
Thankfully, that fuse was miles long and not quickly triggered.
Before he got more than two steps towards the door, he stopped suddenly. His mouth moved, but
no sound came out.
Then Sloane’s voice slid into my mind. “There. Ten o’clock.”
The three of us turned as naturally as we could, angling to view the woods while appearing to
look at each other. Sloane twisted her body to the right, and Novak faced her.
Several things happened all at once, making time stand still.
Sloane’s body jerked hard, and blood started pouring from her right thigh and left shoulder.
Rage battled with fear inside me.
We heard the whistling sound of a silencer.
Sloane looked at me with unfocused eyes.
“Call… Jack,” she breathed before a bullet embedded itself in her forehead.
Her body folded in on itself, and Novak swiftly caught her, sinking to the ground with her in his
arms. He was in shock.
My rage won the fight over fear, and I looked down at Sloane with a single whispered confession.
“Fuck. Not again.”
 Impulse Buys

M y fingers slid across my phone screen too rapidly for the letters to keep up with the email I
was writing. I was down the stairs and in the living room before I could hit send.
But once I tapped that little blue arrow, I smiled at my guys.
“You remember those two demons I let live in Hell, right?” I asked no one in particular.
“No,” Briggs grouched as my guys shook their heads. “You’ll have to be more specific. I can think
of around a dozen you’ve left alive on the few occasions we’ve all been in Hell.”
I rolled my eyes at them. “It was Hyde’s birthday. My demon killed their friend outside of that
shady bar in Hell where we were looking for Satan? She left a dick on my nightstand...”
“What about it?” Palmer inquired, his lip curled in disgust.
“No, not the dick,” I clarified. “The demons.”
“What about them?” my mage repeated.
“They’re real estate agents—” I began.
York quickly cut me off. “What’d you buy?”
“Whatever I want,” I sassed.
“What did you buy?” Stone asked, curious as he studied my grin.
 I shrugged. “The land surrounding us.”
“And...” Vaughn prompted.
“And,” I drawled, scrunching my nose. “Maybe a house in Mexico. But I don’t know yet. I’m
waiting to hear back—”
“And?” my fae continued, rolling his hand expectantly. “Because I know you’re not done.”
I filled my cheeks with air, then grimaced. “Maybe a portion of a casino.”
“What the fuck?” York exclaimed, his volume making me grin guiltily. “Lo!”
“Love.” Palmer groaned. “You can’t just buy—”
“It’s a sound investment,” I interrupted. “And I can just buy it. I run the King’s family portfolio.”
“Be glad she hasn’t bought the college too,” Vaughn remarked to my mage. “I get fuck all done
when she’s in the office.”
I gasped in outrage, though I struggled to contain my laughter. “Is that a genuine complaint about
our interoffice affair?”
My fae shook a stack of papers before placing them back on the coffee table. “I was supposed to
have these done on Wednesday. But my boss keeps demanding meetings that keep me from getting my
work done.”
“Your boss sounds like a bitch.” Novak chuckled when I snorted. “Can we go to the casino?”
“What?” Briggs asked, his voice rising in indignation. “No. No one is letting you go to a casino to
gamble, Novak. You make too many shitty bets as it is.”
He touched his chest, dramatic as ever. “You wound me. I won the bet we made last night.”
“That’s not the same as losing thousands of dollars at poker.” Stone frowned. “You have a
horrible poker face.”
“Do I now?” my vampire purred.
“Here we go…” York trailed off, slinging his arm out to showcase Novak. “We’ll be playing all
fucking night so he can prove you two wrong.”
He squinted at my druid. “No mind reading involved?”
“I’m not betting against you,” my demon stated, scratching at his jawline. “I remember what
happened the last time I lost.”
“Let’s play strip poker,” my vampire suggested. “Then I can prove—”
“I’ll play,” Briggs said with a sigh, rubbing his forehead with his middle finger. “Only if Barbie’s
playing. I don’t want to see you fuckers naked, but bring your A game, anyway.”
And eight rounds later, everyone was naked except me and Novak. He was down to his socks
while I was sitting snug in my pencil skirt. My guys had all folded their hands, annoyed as they waited
to see who won.
I tried to enjoy the view, but the table was fucking up everything.
Almost everything…
There was still plenty of skin and ripped muscles, as well as my very detailed imagination.
“This is humiliating,” Palmer commented, glancing around the dining room table.
“I don’t know,” Novak sang, peeking over his cards. “I’m kind of into humiliation.”
“No one is surprised,” Briggs grumbled. “Literally no one.”
Stone laced his fingers behind his head, leaning back in his chair. “How did you make it so many
rounds?”
“We were cheating,” my vampire stage-whispered.
“Novak!” I admonished, though there was no heat behind it.
I really hadn’t cheated. But I knew my guys well enough to call their bluffs. They weren’t ready
for my pro-level resting bitch face.
“Well, she was cheating,” Novak declared. “I could read your mind, but I haven’t been able to
read hers.”
He tossed a few chips into the center of the table. I matched him, knowing I had nothing
worthwhile in my hand. A royal flush of black spades reflected in his golden gaze.
Palmer growled under his breath as he slung his arm up. Our cards went flying into the air before
they burst into flames, courtesy of Stone flicking hellfire toward my ceiling.
“Why?” York inquired, then chuckled at Novak’s kicked puppy expression.
“I was this close to winning,” he complained, holding his thumb and index finger together. “Ask
her. She’s the one who’s doing math in her head.”
Vaughn snorted, icy blue eyes alight with humor. “What kind of math?”
“Cosmic algebra,” I replied evasively.
“Was it a bunch of numbers and letters?” my demon guessed.
“Yeah. Math.”
Stone shook his head. “She’s counting cards. There’s no fucking way we’re taking either of you to
a casino.”
 Free the Pedmars
Sunday, June 28th
Midday

I stood in the open field, surrounded by rock formations and a century old ward, and gazed in awe
at the herd of pedmars.
It wasn’t often that I worried about the probability of fucking up... Usually a fuck up on my
part led me down another path that put me right where I needed to be, though I knew some of that was
divine intervention.
But today?
Right now?
As the center of attention to so many people trapped in their animal forms?
The thought of fucking up frightened me beyond belief.
The thought of getting their hopes up frightened the pedmars. I could taste the emotion in the air,
thick as molasses and bitter as lemons.
Pete stepped out of his herd, wandering closer to me. He chirped lightly, though I wasn’t sure how
to respond yet. Talking to the pedmar had never been an issue. In fact, he was one of my favorite
beings to talk to, but how could I explain these feelings?
“I’m nervous,” I whispered into his mind.
He blew a deep breath from his truck, ruffling my hair. “Why?”
“What if I mess up?” I asked, shaking my head. “They’ve waited so long to be free of their shift,
too long for me to get it wrong.”
“When did you start doubting yourself again?” he gently replied.
“Just now.”
“Do you want sweet words or truth, Lo?”
I frowned at him. “Truth. Always the truth.”
“You can’t mess up if you don’t try. You also cannot succeed if you don’t try.”
“I’m not looking for glory.”
Pete chittered his teeth together, letting me know he was aggravated. “I didn’t say that. Nor have
I ever thought you sought glory from selflessness. But maybe step back and look at this in a more
selfish manner.”
“This has nothing to do with being selfish,” I argued.
“Will you let Alric have this victory?” he inquired. “Even after his death?”
“He gets no victory,” I growled.
The pedmar chirped, sounding smug. “He has victory now, feels the triumph of causing you
fright, to second guess yourself.”
“That isn’t his—”
“It’s his so long as you stand here and don’t try,” he casually informed me.
I stared into Pete’s glossy black eye, but just the one, because the pedmar’s eyes were too far
apart to glance between them. He stood at an angle, blocking most of my view of his people so we
could have this mental moment alone.
“Are you manipulating me?”
“Is it working?” he asked, too cheerfully.
“A little,” I grumbled. “Yeah.”
“Then yes,” he retorted, happy with himself. “I will manipulate you this one time, but only
because I believe in you.”
I stepped forward, leaning my head against his massive shoulder. “What if you believe too
much?”
“And you too little. I am old enough to know where to put my faith,” he pointed out, resting his
trunk on my back like he was comforting me. “You think yourself a bad person, therefore you assume
you can’t do good on purpose. And when you do, you want no credit, leave no signature. You’re
frightened because you know if you succeed, they’ll all know it was you. Likewise, if you fail.”
“Ouch, Pete.” I chuckled, then sighed. “A little less truth next time.”
His trunk curled around my waist, tightening as he lifted me from the ground, dangling me upside
down. Those enormous black eyes were deeper than the bottomless pit in Alania’s palace. The abyss
of knowledge felt like a physical touch, a smothering hug, as if he wanted to protect me from myself.
“I do not lie to you, young King,” he told me, the honesty in his statement hitting me square in the
feels. “And you do not lie to me.”
I tried to tip my head in agreement. “You’re probably the only person I haven’t lied to.”
“Probably?” he teased.
“I can’t think of a time, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t.” I grinned at him. “I never had a reason
to lie to you, though. For that, I am grateful.”
 He made the chattering sound again, his ears flopping in his frustration. “Then why do you do it
now?”
“I haven’t lied to you just now,” I defended.
“You’re nervous?” he questioned, mocking me. “That is a lie.”
“I’m worried I’ll fuck up,” I amended. “I’m concerned that I’ll hurt them, and that isn’t my
wish.”
“What is a little pain when they can be themselves again?” he challenged.
I crossed my arms over my chest, though it felt silly while I was upside down. “What if I make it
worse? What if I try to fix the magic and end up killing them?”
“That is an outcome they’ll happily accept for a chance at freedom.”
“I don’t accept it, Pete,” I snapped, then whispered, “I won’t hurt them.”
He shook me a bit before setting me on my feet, like he wanted to rattle the sense back into me.
“Then don’t.”
I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders back, and nodded. “Then I won’t.”
“You can do this,” he encouraged.
“And if I can’t?” I countered, admittedly sounding stubborn.
Pete ruffled my hair once more before resting his trunk on my shoulder. “We will still be thankful
that you tried. Do not dismiss how grateful they will feel.”
“Okay,” I mumbled. “I can do it. It’ll be simple. Just reverse the magic, untie the knots, and—”
“Sloane,” he interrupted.
“What?”
“We both know you won’t follow the rules you set. Stop trying to make a plan,” he advised.
“Just do it.”
I huffed at him. “Fine. Stand behind me. And open your mind. I need to see the magic one more
time.”
The pedmar stepped around me, a slight breeze of magic hitting my back before his gigantic
human-ish hand draped over my shoulder. His deep, rumbling voice ruffled strands of my hair the
same way his shifted form did when he blew breath from his trunk.
“Take what you need.”
So, I did.
I recalled the horizontal spray of dark purple magic from his memory. The moment it hit his back,
knocking him onto the forest floor... His determination to return to his village.
I pulled the last vestiges from his reservoir inside me, the tiny fragments my fae and I weren’t
able to dig out. And I bundled the volatile curse into a tight sphere in my mind’s eye.
Pete’s recovery had as much to do with mine and Vaughn’s magical influence as it did with the
environment... But I knew I wouldn’t be able to bring the Giant’s Causeway to the pedmar, or vice
versa.
Which was why I had prepared for this moment a few days ago.
I hadn’t let Alric play inside my mind for so long because I wanted to be a courteous host and
show him around my circus.
No.
I’d needed him frazzled so I could leech his memories and magical signature.
I needed that to free the pedmars.
It was why I stood in this field with them, with Pete, and no one else. I couldn’t predict how risky
this Save the Pedmars operation would be, so I came alone.
 But now that I was here, I refused to hurt them, refused to have a trial-and-error experiment on
each one until I got the magical recipe right.
This was a one-and-done kind of deal.
I spun and warped my magic, mixing the darkest purples I possessed with some of the black
angelic essence and the pinkish demonic power, until I created something that ate away at the sphere
in my mind’s eye.
Once it was gone, I waited a beat to see what would happen.
Better the reaction affected me versus the last of a species.
When nothing burned or exploded or killed me, I took the deepest of breaths, relaxing my body as
the magic collected around me.
Pete’s hand disappeared from my shoulder, his footsteps retreating farther and farther away.
Power pulsed around me, vibrating against my skin, itchy and energetic. It needed release, needed
to run rampant, to bounce around the valley in chaotic motion.
So I let it go.
A scream tore from my lips, scratching along my throat as my back bowed. I opened my eyes,
blinking through the tears to see the red sky above, fluffy gray clouds floating through the sun’s rays.
And then I was in Pete’s arms, staring at the giant’s features as my eyes dried.
“Are they hurt?” I rasped, tasting the hint of blood that coated my tongue. “Did I—”
“They are unconscious, but not hurt, Lo. See for yourself what freedom looks like to my people.”
I rolled my head, feeling exhausted as I searched for the pedmars.
Only there were none.
The valley floor was covered with giants.
Naked giants, but they were whole once more… As they should have been all along.
“Someone should call Lilith,” I mumbled, trying to smile. “We’re going to need a fuck load of
clothes.”
Pete’s booming chuckle echoed in my ears as the peaceful darkness swallowed me up, harboring
the joy of my good deed.
I needed to leave before they awoke, but I was too drained to pry open my eyes, my body too
weak to disappear.
My last words were something only meant for Pete, for the pedmar who’d seen all my flaws and
still loved me unconditionally… And something I’d never repeat.
“I think I found my limit.”
 Novak’s Ambition

M y guys had planned an amazing group date, though Palmer and Novak stayed home to work.
They missed a ton of fun, but I wasn’t complaining.
I’d take my time with them in whatever combination I could get.
Vaughn opened the front door, letting Briggs and me inside as York and Stone parked the SUV. Our
conversation died off as a slapping sound reached our ears.
I half wondered if my mage and vampire were up to no good… That was a fantasy I would gladly
walk in on.
My wolf didn’t share my feelings, but I was betting my fae wouldn’t mind.
The sound slowed, and I giggled when Novak sent me a mental image of what he was doing.
“What the fuck?” Briggs growled as we rounded the corner into the living room.
My vampire grimaced, though it wasn’t from embarrassment. “I want to blow a hole through the
wall.”
“What? What is it?” Stone asked, hurrying through the front door. “Gods, Novak. What are you
doing?”
“The vampire in this book came inside his lover, and it was so powerful it blew them apart,” he
explained, letting go of his dick to make hand gestures. “He hits a stud in the wall. She slams into the
sheetrock…”
Palmer sighed as he came out of the kitchen. “Do you have to jerk off in the living room? This is
the second time I’ve walked through here and seen you half naked.”
“We need a new couch,” Vaughn muttered.
York bumped my shoulder as he stopped beside me. “Have fun with that.”
“He’s not trying that with me,” I stated, then turned to my vampire. “You are not trying that on
me.”
“Why?” he challenged me. “You’re the most indestructible out of everyone here.”
“Everyone here isn’t an option on the table,” Briggs grumbled.
“Not it,” my fae declared.
Stone shook his head. “Hell no.”
I glanced down at Novak’s dick. “I don’t care how good you are in bed… I’m not fixing another
wall. So if you blow a hole in one, you better get real handy real quick.”
“Why are you jerking off in the living room?” my mage asked, needing the clarification before he
could write this conversation off as usual vampire bullshit. “You still haven’t answered that.”
“Put your dick up, Novak,” York instructed, though Novak didn’t listen.
My vampire simply shrugged at Palmer’s question. “I was reading.”
“And just decided the story was so good you were going to cum on the pages?” Stone inquired,
nodding as if he already knew the answer.
“No,” he argued. “I put the book down.”
“Why is it open?” my demon countered.
Novak chuckled to himself. “I was reading back to see if there was a cum shot from his
perspective—”
“It’s not porn.” My mage frowned as he shook his head.
“Because I wanted to know what he was thinking,” my vampire continued, as if he hadn’t been
interrupted. “Like… If he had any tricks of the trade, so to speak.”
“I can’t fucking deal with him,” Briggs grouched, stomping off. “I’m going to the kitchen.”
“You know that’s fiction, right?” Palmer cautiously asked.
Novak scoffed. “Says who? You, the person who didn’t write this firsthand account of his
dramatic and intoxicating love story?”
“Oh my gods,” my mage whispered to me. “I quit.”
“Why are you reading?” Vaughn queried. “You have a gig coming up that you need to get ready for
—”
“I finished,” my vampire answered with a grin.
I snorted before I could stop myself. “That sounds so… wrong while you’ve got your dick out.”
“Nothing sounds right while he’s standing in the middle of the living room with his dick in his
hand and his pants around his ankles,” my druid confirmed.
“Well, they weren’t around my ankles while I was sitting down,” Novak mumbled.
York wandered away from us, chuckling before calling over his shoulder, “I can’t argue with
that.”
Vaughn rubbed his temples, exasperated. “Will you please put your dick up so we can—”
“No,” my vampire cut in, glancing down at himself. “I think I’ll leave him out for the rest of the
day. He needs the air. It’s been a tiring afternoon.”
“You’ve been at this all afternoon?” my demon inquired, shocked, or maybe amused.
 “Yeah. I told you—”
Stone held his hand up, stopping Novak’s response. “Take it to your room.”
My vampire snatched the book off the couch, stepped out of his pants, and rolled his eyes as he
walked away. I turned to drool over his tattooed ass as he left us, then snapped my fingers, removing
his shirt to enjoy his completely naked strut upstairs.
“You’re encouraging his bad behavior,” Stone told me, though he didn’t look away from Novak
either.
I scoffed. “I’m not his keeper.”
“Now that you’re both done ogling the naughty vampire,” Vaughn remarked, just as guilty as we
were. “Help me move this couch outside.”
“Just move it to his room,” my demon suggested.
“Up all the fucking stairs?” my fae complained. “You’ve lost your godsdamned mind.”
Stone quirked a brow. “Through the void.”
“Oh. I didn’t think about that.”
Vaughn and our couch were gone in a blink, leaving behind a frigid blast of cold air. He stepped
back into the living room, looking a little flustered.
My demon whistled low. “That must be some book.”
“I’ve read it,” I told them, scrunching up my nose.
“You’ve read everything in the library,” Vaughn replied.
“It’s definitely fiction,” I explained. “But Novak totally skipped over the part where the vampire
had been asleep for three-hundred years. When he wakes up, the protagonist is the first woman he
sees. They have a toxic relationship, not dramatic.”
Stone smirked at me. “No wonder he blew her through the wall.”
“I don’t need another couch,” Novak shouted from his room. “And I didn’t cum on it, you
germaphobe.”
Vaughn ruffled his thick black curls, pushing them out of his face. “I don’t believe him. I’m not
sitting in cum.”
“He cums in you,” my demon informed him. “That’s the same thing.”
My fae pointed at Stone. “That is different.”
He chuckled. “Not really.”
“One is expected,” I said with a shrug. “The other isn’t. I’d be pretty pissed if I came home and
found nut on my pillow.”
“Exactly,” Vaughn agreed, throwing his arms wide. “And what about when we have guests over?
You think they want to sit in it?”
Stone held his hands up in defeat. “Whatever you say, Prince.”
“Don’t be condescending,” he admonished.
“You’re so sassy right now.” I grinned at my fae. “What did he do?”
“Nothing,” he answered with a straight face.
Novak snorted as he descended the last few stairs, adjusting the waist of his sweatpants. “The
vampire did absolutely nothing. The fae has a dirty fucking mouth, though.”
“I told you to save it for later,” Vaughn snarked.
“That’s not what you said,” my vampire argued.
My fae rolled his icy blue eyes. “That’s the gist of it.”
“Uh-huh,” I hummed as Stone drawled, “Sure.”
“I’ll wait until later,” Novak conceded, following us to the dining room for supper. “But I still
Another random document with
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drunken Irishman, who with the rest of the vagrant scum of Europe
composed the Polish legion. Cologne is a large, gloomy town,
overrun with monks and beggars. The inn was excellent; it had just
been repaired and newly furnished. We were surprised that,
considering the interruption there must have been to travelling,
accommodations and post horses should have been so good and
abundant. We went to the play, which was bad enough, but like all
foreign theatres well attended. The gendarmes and hussars very
handsome; we agreed that the French officers were better looking
than formerly. The reason, I suppose, is that under the ancien
régime the officers were chiefly noble; now a man is taken out of the
ranks and dubbed General....
Sunday, Jan. 25, 1801, Staines Inn.—The
complaint in my eyes and alarm about my poor STEPHEN’S
child prevented me from enjoying myself during the DEATH
last two months of my foreign excursion. After
passing many watchful nights, and latterly for 8 together, by the side
of my dear boy, he was snatched from me, alas, for ever.[153] He
died on the day devoted to mirth, his dear father’s birthday. On ye
22nd early, we quitted H. H., and took up our residence at Ld. B.’s in
Cavendish Square during their absence at Chatsworth. I was
broken-hearted and dispirited for many weeks.
Soon after, Charles caught the measles, and luckily for my peace
of mind had them most favourably. His little endearing qualities, and
Ld. H.’s affection, the kindness of friends, and the hope of having
more children, have to a degree soothed my feelings, but oh! my
God, what anguish can equal the pang a mother feels who sees her
infant struggling against death. What I have endured worlds should
not bribe me to undergo again. Beauclerk, as soon as he heard of
our distress, came to town to see us, and with real heartfelt interest
entered into our sorrows. Mrs. Smith showed herself affectionate and
tender: and the D. of Bedford continued in town, and stayed as much
with us as possible; indeed, day after day he devoted to being in our
company. We had taken a mere nutshell, a pied-à-terre, in Stratton
Street; my spirits have been so low that the small and varying
society that I got of evenings from those that drop in amuses and
cheers me. I write at this moment at Staines, where I am with
Charles and Ld. H., partly that the first may be shown to his uncle,
and partly that Ld. H. may see his uncle, and endeavour, with Grey,
to prevail upon him to resume his parliamentary functions.
Stratton Street, 30th Jan., 1801.—A rumpus in the Cabinet,
supposed about the Catholics. The opening of the Imperial
Parliament[154] has been delayed already three times, and the day
for which it is fixed at present is not the one it will, according to all
expectation, meet upon. Various reasons are assigned for the delay,
and the wise-heads are full of strange and curious speculations upon
the occasion. Some imagine Ministers are negotiating, not to obtain
peace, but to get a reply from Bonaparte declaring his intention of
maintaining the demand of the Northern Confederacy with respect to
neutral bottoms, by which they will succeed in making the Northern
war popular with the country. Others, that great concessions have
been made to Russia to withdraw her from the confederacy, even to
the sacrifice of Hanover. Others, that the King is more in want of Dr.
Willis[155] than of his Lords Temporal and Spiritual assembled in
High Parliament.
It is a curious circumstance to reflect upon, that in the course of a
very few years France, whom we expected to crush and entered into
a league against with half the powers of Europe, should now have so
completely turned the tables upon us as to head triumphantly the
most formidable combination that was ever undertaken. If the King of
Prussia marches to Hamburg (which unquestionably is his object),
and the French compel the Portuguese to renounce our alliance, we
shall not have a friendly port from the North Pole to Africa.
Opposition mean to attend actively this session.
Grey has renounced the errors of secession, and SECESSION
tho’ Fox still hangs back, I think a few strong ABANDONED
divisions will be irresistible and make him return to
the career in which he has outstripped every competitor. Ld. Darnley
has attached himself with warmth to Opposition, and intends to bring
on a motion upon the State of the Nation. To-day has brought
another convert, Ld. Fitzwilliam,[156] who has expressed a wish of
moving the amendment, one very hostile to Ministers and, strange to
say, full of pacific wishes. His respectability, high name, and integrity
of character carries great weight, and will add much to the slender
forces of a disjointed, disbanded Opposition. The D. of Bedford
pledges himself to nothing, but his inclination leads him to attend and
would conquer, but for Ld. Lauderdale’s jokes, who is always telling
him he delights in making a long prose to the House of Lords, for
which he never indulges himself on any question but on those that
would make Cicero or Fox prose, scarcity, poor laws, enclosures,
etc., etc.
Ld. Wycombe, who obtained passports to go through France in
his way to Florence to get witnesses, was at Paris during the
explosion of the infernal car, and within 220 paces of it at the
moment of its blowing up.[157]
11th Feb., 1801. Stratton Street.—During the Rebellion in Ireland
made by the United Irishmen, it used to be the phrase, when a
disturbance broke out in a town, to say, ‘They have got the Union
among them.’ That cant saying might now be applied to a higher
sphere, as since the Union of the Kingdoms the Cabinet has been
divided, and at this juncture broken up. Reports and opinions are so
different and various that I can collect nothing that gives me a very
distinct idea. At present all that can be depended upon is that Pitt,
Grenville, Dundas, Windham, Lds. Camden and Spencer, have
resigned their places, and are virtually out of office, altho’ the former
remains in until he has made the loan and opened the Budget. The
occasion of this extraordinary breaking up of the Administration is
the King’s peremptory refusal of assenting to the Emancipation of
the Catholics, a measure Ministers consider themselves as pledged
to, and a promise of which was one of ye instruments of conciliation
to all parties to obtain the Union.
It now appears that the King was all along
against the Union, foreseeing that this question PITT’S
would be the price of it. It appears incredible that RESIGNATION
Ministers should esteem themselves so irrevocably
bound to the Catholics, when the opinion of the King has uniformly
been against complying with that measure, which they must have
known at the time they held out the promise to the Irish. The King
believes, and the belief so inculcated is sedulously maintained in his
mind by the Bishops (especially by ye Archbishop of Canterbury and
Dr. Stuart,[158] the Primate of Ireland), that any such relaxation
towards the Catholics is incompatible with his Coronation oath. It
was owing to these differences that the meeting of Parlt. was
delayed on account of the tenor of the Speech. Pitt wanted it to
breathe toleration and indulgence in the true spirit of amity; the King
absolutely rejected all such promises. During the week in which the
Speech was adjusting, there were many rumours of a change of
Administration; indeed, one day they were so current that I believed
enough to be tempted to send to Lansdown House to ascertain
whether its noble owner had been sent for from Bath. Several
tradesmen distributed their commodities gratis, so great was the joy;
but on the Saturday previous to the meeting of Parlt. all was
supposed to be amicably settled owing to the interposition of the
Speaker, who was closeted with the King several hours during the
Queen’s concert. However this honourable friend was occupied in a
different negotiation than that designed for him by his munificent
patron and employer—in one no less surprising and despicable than
of tripping up his heels and offering his services to replace him. This
huge and monstrous act of ingratitude was known publicly last
Saturday, and Pitt on Monday, in his place, announced his
resignation, and Ld. Grenville last night in the House of Lords spoke
to the same effect. Nothing is yet known certainly as to the new
Ministry; many of the places cannot be filled, and the opinion is they
cannot hold together a month. Ld. Carlisle refused; at least he was
sounded. Ld. Macartney refused. Jekyll said an Administration,
formed out of the dregs of the old one and leaving Pitt out, was like
getting up The Beggar’s Opera without the character of Macheath.
14th Feb., 1801.—Yesterday was a political fast ordered by
Parliament during the continuance of the war. Jekyll wrote ex
tempore:—
 Why on this day the lot d’ye cast
To mortify the British nation,
When every day’s a general fast
And every hour’s humiliation?

(British added by Lewis to make the metre.)

Some person asked Jekyll why he did not put the Administration
into verse, upon which he said it was already inverse.
Feb. 26, 1801.—The first laugh over, people begin to think this
Administration may last, and if they commence a negotiation they will
even become popular. Pitt, however, is regretted, and there are
those who think the whole a juggle, that he is, in fact, Minister behind
the curtain; but these are refinements. He certainly solicits persons
to take office, and his own friends to hold those they have; but this is
but a shallow artifice to prevent the odious cry of his deserting the
King. The new Ministers like to let it appear that Pitt is cordial to
them, and account for the resignations by saying those who resign
are chiefly of Canning’s faction, and that Pitt has reprimanded
Canning for his intemperate language.
Lady Buckingham[159] (the Marchioness), the first drawing room
after these changes, went to give thanks for her peerage (Baroness
Nugent, with remainder to her second son); she is a bigoted
Catholic, and gave great scandal during her husband’s government
in Ireland by attending the R. C. Chapel openly. When she stood in
the circle to be spoken to, the King came up to her and began a
conversation, in the midst of which she turned upon her heel and
said aloud to the person next to her, ‘I think I have treated him coldly
enough.’ His Majesty heard her, and in an irritated tone said, ‘I don’t
mind women’s politics.’ Those who are for Catholic Emancipation
affect to believe that the discontents upon its rejection will break out,
and an invasion from France will be successful.
This opinion produced a bon mot from a man who never made
one before. A person asked Lord Brome[160] who was to succeed his
father (Ld. Cornwallis) in Ireland. ‘Most probably Bonaparte,’ replied
the youth.
 Lady Clare began abusing Ld. Cornwallis furiously before the
Duchess of Gordon, who coolly answered that she ‘had never heard
him abused but for two things, one was the not putting the town of
Seringapatam to the sword, the other, that in Ireland he never
whipped nor tortured.’ The retort was keen, as Lord Clare[161] made
a speech in favour of the enormities committed by the Orangemen,
which is called and known by the name of ‘The torture speech.’
8th March, 1801.—The King is recovering as
fast as he can, say the courtiers; Pitt’s people THE KING’S
cautiously say he may amend, but it must be ILLNESS
slowly; Opposition declare he is as mad as the
winds. Upon the first signal of madness the Prince notified to Ld.
Fitzwilliam that circumstances were similar to those in ’88–’89 and
that it was his intention to consult those who had been his friends at
that period, and he wished Ld. F. to discuss it over with those with
whom he had acted at that period. Ld. F., rather precipitately, sent off
an express to St. Anne’s to fetch up Fox, who came early the next
morning. Ld. Moira saw Grey and the D. of Bedford (separately) and
proposed to each the formation of an Administration in case of a
Regency, without either Fox or Pitt. This they declined, and
unequivocally declared they would never take office unless Fox was
the efficient man in the Cabinet. Ld. Moira had a private interview
afterwards with Fox, in which nothing very material passed. The
Chancellor begged to see Fox that they might refer back to their joint
proceedings in ’88: Fox was astonished at the C.’s want of memory.
He did not think his forgetfulness was wilful. In the course of their
meeting, Loughborough gave him to understand that he was
authorised to express Pitt’s wishes for an accommodation in private,
and his disposition to adjust their differences of opinion upon the
question of right, but Fox declined the interview on hearing the
arguments, adding that the House of Commons was the proper
place for political opponents to debate in.
Pitt is still Minister. The King’s illness occurred on Saturday, and
the patent to admit Addington was to have been signed on Thursday:
thus Addington has given up an immense place of £7000 pr. ann.,
and undergone the expense of his election, for the bare honour of
having been thought worthy of His Majesty’s confidence.[162]
Windham says he is one of the gentlemen who are shut in. Those
only who are fairly out are Lord Spencer and Ld. Grenville.
The first act of Ld. St. Vincent’s Administration[163] was a pretty
hard rap at Ld. Spencer’s; he gave the command of the Channel
fleet to Ad. Cornwallis,[164] a man whom Ld. S. had brought to a
Court martial and in a manner laid aside and disgraced.
Ly. Spencer[165] cannot reconcile herself to the insignificance of
being out of power; she is carrying on an intrigue with Mrs.
Fitzherbert thro’ Jack Payne to reinstate Mr. Pitt, by making him
acceptable to the Prince. Ly. S. is the greatest prude alive, and yet
because it is her interest she passes many hours daily with Mrs. F.
[166] The latter is rancorous against Fox; she has never pardoned his
compliance with the Prince’s orders in the last Regency, when he
declared that no marriage had taken place between them.
9th March.—A person said to the Duchess of Gordon that Pitt,
now he was out of office, would have leisure to amuse himself and
indulge in his favourite recreations. Among the latter Pope Joan was
named. ‘Aye,’ said the Dss., ‘I wish he would think more of Joan and
less of the Pope’—more of the ladies and less of the Catholics.
George Ponsonby, distinguished in Ireland as a
pleader and orator, has carried the election for the MR. GEORGE
County of Wicklow. During the poll a man upon the PONSONBY
hustings assigned for reason of his voting against
him that common report said he had been connected with the United
Irishmen. ‘Common report is known to be a liar,’ said Ponsonby, ‘and
so, I think, are its trumpeters.’ More is expected from him in the
Imperial Parlt., than from all the Irish put together; his talents are
supposed to be well adapted to the English style of debate, and his
language good without being too florid, the common defect of Irish
eloquence. He is cautious, and will not hastily risk impairing the
reputation he has already acquired. Mr. Fox has not the highest
opinion of his political honesty, but Grey, who loves with fervour
every person connected with him, is jealous at the suspicion.[167] We
must wait to see how opportunity may tempt and time mature his
propensities.
Horne Tooke has at length got into Parlt. for the rotten borough of
Old Sarum, through the patronage of Lord Camelford. Ld. Temple
has given notice of a motion to investigate into his eligibility; the
question is whether he can sit in Parlt. after having taken priest’s
orders. He has already spoken frequently, but his wit suits the mob
at the hustings better than the genteel mob of Parlt. He is too fond of
talking of himself, and his jokes are trite. He made formerly a very
satirical good joke in a toast, and it was so well disguised that what
is very Jacobinical appears extremely loyal—‘The brave followers of
the Duke of York,’ meaning the French, who pursued him when his
army was put to flight in Holland. It will be a good expulsion for ye
Opposition, as he is very mischievous, and would overset any little
popularity they might acquire if they could conduct themselves with
tolerable prudence.
11th March.—Lord Morpeth is to be married in a few days to Lady
Georgina Cavendish, a suitable match in every respect. Without
possessing great beauty she has many charms, and is so well
disposed that il a beau jeu before him, if he will renounce le gros jeu,
but it unfortunately happens that love only suspends that passion
when it has taken deep root. However, he has so good an
understanding and such right feelings, that what a man can do to
conquer a vicious habit he will do.
The loss of my child sits heavily upon me, my
heart is oftentimes overflowing, and my health very A MOTHER’S
much impaired. The system that Sr. Walter SORROWS
Farquhar[168] has put me upon is calculated to
rouse my constitution, but grief and a certain natural morbid
tendency may baffle all his endeavours. My Charles is delicate, and
has frequent and severe attacks: anxiety for him and regrets for my
poor Ste. make the hours of reflection and solitude pass sorrowfully
over. There is a sensation in a mother’s breast at the loss of an
infant that partakes of the feeling of instinct. It is a species of savage
despair. Alas! to lose my pretty infant, just beginning to prattle his
little innocent wishes, and imagination so busily aids my grief by
tracing what he might have been. In those dreary nights whilst I sat
watching his disturbed sleep, I knelt down and poured out to God a
fervent prayer for his recovery, and swore that if he were spared me
the remainder of my life should be devoted to the exercise of
religious duties; that I should believe in the mercy of a God who
could listen to and alleviate my woe. Had he lived I should have
been a pious enthusiast. I have no superstition in my nature, but
from what I then felt it is obvious how the mind may be worked upon
when weakened and perplexed by contending passions of fear,
hope, and terror.
Ah! my child, perhaps if I had not left you in the summer, but
stayed and watched with maternal care all your little ailments, I might
have had you still; but the disease was inveterate. He was opened,
and his fatal malady ascertained—two tubercles upon his lung, and a
pint of water upon his chest. The surgeon and medical men who
attended thought the disease was inherent, and that nothing could
have saved him, but even in the most inveterate hereditary diseases
life is prolonged to a very advanced period by care. But it is over,
and regret is now superfluous.
An interesting play, taken from the French, is now acting with
success at Drury Lane.[169] The story is of a deaf and dumb boy
found in the streets of Paris, who became from his infirmities a pupil
of the celebrated Abbé d’Epée, who discovers great intelligence in
the boy, and from various circumstances suspects he is of high
origin, but abandoned from motives of interest by his family. This he
infers from his distress at the meanness of his clothes, his
expressions of delight at seeing a Chief Magistrate, whom he gives
his patron to understand resembles in dress one who used to caress
him. From a variety of incidents the Abbé at length traces that he is
the orphan of a great magistrate, defrauded of his rights by a false
guardian. I only mention the piece to show the spirit of the times.
The first night it was played, Theodore, the orphan, to show his
talents, is asked to give his opinion who is the greatest genius
France has produced. He replied, in writing, ‘For science,
D’Alembert, wit, Voltaire, sentiment, Rousseau.’ This was deemed
Jacobinical, and it is now strangely transposed, ‘For science, Pascal,
wit, Boileau, and sentiment, Montesquieu.’ This is absurd, but, much
as it is so, the fury of the times is very much abated within these few
years, or rather year.
Lady Oxford passed a few days here with her
daughter and sisters, and by a harmless LADY OXFORD
supercherie she contrived that Sir Francis Burdett
should be invited, a scheme I disliked, as she is so gentle and good
that it pains me to see her a prey to him. Knight was here also. To
use a vulgar phrase, he has corrupted her mind by filling her head
with innumerable vain conceits, and teaching her to exclaim against
institutions, especially that of marriage, to which she says she has
been a helpless victim. If I were to see much of her she might
perhaps be benefited, for as nobody can do more mischief to a
woman than a woman, so perhaps might one reverse the maxim and
say nobody can do more good. A little mild reproof and
disapprobation of some of her doctrines might possibly rescue her
from the gulf.
Soon after Fox’s arrival in March (as mentioned already
somewhere in these scrawls) a negotiation was set on foot to bring
together all the opposers of Governt. to procure a degree of concert
in their proceedings. Tierney was instrumental in getting Ld. Moira
and Ld. Lansdown together. Soon after, a numerous meeting at the
house of the former was held, where Fox, D. of Bedford, Grey, and
others all came to an agreement as to their mode of acting in case of
a Regency. The King recovered unexpectedly and rapidly, and the
zealous Patriots dispersed.
Ld. Moira is offended, and thinks himself ill-used by the desertion
of his new allies, who, immediately upon the chance of getting into
power becoming more distant, each fled and followed his own
devices. Tierney also is discontented, and declares himself no longer
a party man, wishing it universally to be understood that he will not
consider Fox as his leader.
Previous to the King’s illness I was witness to rather an
unpleasant scene at my own house between him and Grey, where
the D. of Bedford was the moderator. The immediate cause of the
dispute was that Sheridan most unjustifiably repeated and added
unto a conversation held over a table when most of the hearers and
talkers were drunk. The origin of the quarrel, however, was more
remote. Tierney came into Parlt. entirely by his own talents, neither
owed his election or his success in the Committee to the interference
of any of his political friends. Shortly after his becoming permanently
seated, secession began to be rumoured; he had spoken several
times, but had not then much distinguished himself. Fox still
attending of course made him diffident of putting himself too forward,
nor probably had he acquired the facility of speaking or weight
enough to claim the notice of the House. At a meeting held in Mr.
Fox’s house upon the measure of seceding, he offered to resign his
seat, adding that he felt it incompatible with his duty as a member of
the H. of Commons to represent a body of people without fulfilling
actively his engagements towards them; and submitted to the will of
Fox what he should do. (Ye D. of Bedford, who was afterwards
displeased with Tierney for his attendance, saying it spoilt the effect
of secession, affects ignorance of this proposal of Tierney, but Fox
himself, Fitzpatrick, and others, but especially the first, say that
Tierney behaved well, because he behaved frankly.) Fox could not,
and did not exact his renunciation of his seat, and he remained near
three sessions alone, unassisted, and unsupported, Sheridan alone
of the Foxites ever attending, and his attendance was as much
directed against Tierney as it was against Pitt.
This solitary opposition was of infinite use to T.
as an orator and as a public man; the daily use of TIERNEY AND
his tongue taught him readily to debate, and his GREY
diligence, ability, and plainness acquired him the
respect and confidence of the country. Successful as he was, he
wanted aid; he knew the aristocratical temper of the House was such
that the obscurity of his family would retard his progress, but that
assisted by Grey he could be high and well propped. Grey was a fit
subject to work upon; of an active, restless, unsatisfied temper, of
boundless ambition, he found himself a prey to melancholy in calm
retirement. Chance threw them together in the neighbourhood of
Ham. Tierney did not fail of encouraging his disposition to return, and
strove to combat his feelings of remorse about Fox, who had merely
in compliance to Grey and ye Duke of Bedford, adopted the measure
of secession, a measure notoriously against his own judgment.[170]
In short, Grey resumed his post in Parlt. Things went on smoothly,
Grey made some capital speeches, the divisions of Ministers fell off,
but Opposition gained nothing. Some of Fox’s old friends, the
staunch ones (such as Coke, Ld. J. Townshend, and a few others),
were offended at being written to to attend, replying that no good
could be done if Fox abstained from coming, and that without his
presence they would not attend. Grey, always fickle, and generally
desponding, grew soured; he saw Fox, and at length persuaded him
to come up upon his motion upon the State of the Nation. Tierney,
when he knew Fox was coming, expressed himself strongly upon the
absurdity of Grey’s going down to St. Anne’s to get sense, and
imprudently enough at the Friday Club declared his intention of
keeping away on the day of the debate, unless Fox gave a pledge of
his future attendance.
This was the conversation reported by Sheridan to Grey, and
brought forth a burst of rage and indignation from Grey against
Tierney. The expressions used on both sides were alarmingly strong.
Upon T. saying he should withdraw himself, if Fox was to come down
occasionally and Grey was not generally understood to be the
leader, G. accused T. of deceiving him by betraying him into
attending by promises of support. In short, the explanations and
accusations were sharp and bitter on both sides.
The King’s illness put a stop to the question; the motion was put
off from day to day, and Fox came, grew eager, and coalesced with
Moira, as has been mentioned elsewhere. The King’s recovery, like
magic, drove the whole set back to their hiding-places. Some fancied
that Fox would have continued in town but for Mrs. A. and the
expense of a house; upon which it was suggested to Ld. Hd. to hire
one for him. This with his usual alacrity to serve his uncle, he did
without hesitation, announced it to him by letter, and received the
following reply.[171]
April 28, 1801.—When Tierney heard of his determination against
coming, except to Tooke’s business, he told Grey peremptorily that
he should adhere to Ld. Moira and the neutrals. The assurance of
attending Horne Tooke’s question has not added to his popularity. In
short, all are offended with him.

Holland House: April 30th, 1801.

Dissentient. A FOOLISH
PROTEST
We deprecate and protest against this Measure
because, as far as it may be carried into execution, it tends to dissolve
the allegiance of the subject. A country over which Martial Law is
exercised may be crushed or subdued, but it is not governed, much
less is it practical. Allegiance is not more a duty on one side than
protection on ye other; the character of subjects and of enemies
cannot exist together. A military force can exercise nothing but the
dominion of the sword. With respect to the people there is no
government. We, therefore, conceive it to be our bounden duty, in our
endeavours to preserve the Governt. of the United Kingdom, not to
lose sight of those advantages which alone render it worth preserving.
Thanet
Albemarle
Holland
King.

This protest was entered against the Martial Law Bill for Ireland.
The composition is Francis’s, whose brevity and terseness make the
performance nonsense.[172] Mr. Pitt remarked that the sentence
which asserts the incompatibility of the character of subject and
enemy is the precise definition of a traitor.
This foolish Protest made a great deal of noise; Ld. Clare moved
the expunging it on account of its treasonable and seditious
tendency, which was opposed by 17 peers, some of very respectable
characters. I quarrelled with Francis, and would not make peace with
him. His explanation was worse than the original offence; he
declared that he disapproved of the sentiments, and feared the
making them public would get the protesters into a scrape. Then why
abet and assist what you think mischievous and of bad consequence
to your friends?
Ld. Wycombe returned about a fortnight since from Paris, and tho’
he will not see me, he has entrusted his journal for my inspection.
‘Paris, which I had known under so many different circumstances,
and which I had originally known in times so very opposite to these.
It is an observation of Thucydides that, in the country of which he
was a native and of which he wrote, the traveller could not take a
step without treading on historic ground. With equal truth may it be
said that it is impossible to traverse Paris, without at each step being
reminded of occurrences which are destined to become the
materials of future history: occurrences which are the more striking,
inasmuch as they have not been received by us on the faith of
tradition obscured by the lapse of ages or gathered from the Annals
of our ancestors, but have taken place within our own memories,
have involved the fall of persons we ourselves have known, have
overwhelmed institutions with which we have been personally
conversant, and have already materially affected the destinies of the
generation to which we belong.’
‘The most eloquent discourse cannot half so well illustrate the
character of human passion, the vicissitudes of human fortune, the
vanity of human pursuits, and the instability of human things, as the
aspect of this metropolis.’
‘When we were within a few steps of the
Théâtre de la République we were surprised by an THE INFERNAL
explosion resembling the report of a cannon.[173] MACHINE
On stepping out of the carriage I perceived a
column of smoke making its way over the tops of the houses. In an
instant the rattling of cavalry announced the approach of the First
Consul, who drove by us with rapidity. We entered the theatre lost in
conjecture as to the probable cause of so strange and sinister an
incident. We had but little disposition to attend to the business of the
drama, which was presently put a stop to by the account of that
heinous atrocity which exhibits such a melancholy instance of the
most deliberate depravity, and which had so nearly terminated the
transcendent career of that illustrious man, whose fame will be more
durable than the Pyramids he has visited, whose life is consumed in
a succession of dangers, whose preservation should be dear not
only to all good citizens, but to all good men, whose fortunes may be
deemed inseparable from the fortunes of the Republic. The actor
who came forward upon this occasion made the audience
acquainted neither with extent or particulars of the misfortune which
made it indecent to proceed. The theatre was immediately
evacuated; guards were seen moving in various directions, and the
measures of precaution were taken with a degree of calmness,
quickness, precision, and intelligence which served to give me some
idea of the perfection of the military system.
‘No one was able to tell what was the number of persons who had
been killed and wounded; but it was understood that the disaster had
originated in an attempt to destroy the First Consul in his way to the
Opera. At the portico of the Opera, I heard that the performance was
going on without interruption, and that Bonaparte, unmoved, was
partaking of the entertainment, which was an Oratorio,[174] as if
nothing unusual had happened. The next morning heard a few
particulars; some of the manner in which the Chief Consul had
conducted himself. He appears to have expressed a conviction that
in his situation and at a period like the present, such an occurrence
was not to be considered as being justly matter of surprise. He told
those who had an opportunity of seeing him that when, a short time
before, his life had been conspired against, he felt no particular
solicitude in relation to the punishment of a crime which seemed to
have him only for its object; but that now when the blow which was
levelled at himself had fallen upon others, when the safety of a part
of the population of the capital had been actually endangered, and
when several individuals had become the innocent victims of so
great an atrocity, he should not hesitate to demand a law authorising
the immediate trial of those who might prove implicated in its guilt.
That as to what regarded himself personally, he should die with as
much glory at the head of the Legislature as he could do at the head
of one of the armies of the Republic. To the Prefect of the Police[175]
he expressed his dissatisfaction with an asperity which sufficiently
proved that he imputed a defect of vigilance to that department.’...
‘Went to the Review. In front of the Thuilleries
were drawn up the Grenadiers of the Consular A REVIEW
Guard, who had followed Bonaparte to Marengo,
and had from their conduct in that memorable battle been compared
by Berthier to a redoubt of granite. On ye remaining sides of the
square were drawn up other troops. In the centre of the place were
stationed the officers of the État Major on horseback, whose
uniforms and accoutrements were splendid to the greatest degree. A
beautiful cream-coloured Spanish horse, adorned with crimson
velvet, magnificently embroidered in gold, was held in readiness for
Bonaparte. A sudden burst of martial music, issuing from a profusion
of instruments, proclaimed his descent from the Palace. He wears no
plume. He is distinguished by the quietness of his deportment, the
pensiveness of his aspect, and by the paleness of his countenance,
which thought and watchfulness have worn. He was attended by his
Mameluke. Mounted on his docile charger, he galloped thro’ the
ranks. The air resounded with acclamations of applause, to which he
seemed insensible. His attention was confined to the troops. When
he passed the colours he saluted with a singular propriety of manner.
After having rapidly inspected the difft. corps, he rode to the centre
of the ground, where he prescribed the evolutions of the day, which
took up very little time. Nothing can exceed the precision and
intelligence with which the whole manœuvre is conducted. I
particularly remarked the fine appearance of the Pioneers, who, as
well as the Grenadiers, seem to be picked men. The flying Artillery is
much to be admired, but the horses of the Dragoons, altho’ active,
were inferior in beauty to those which are commonly purchased for
the English Cavalry.’...
‘One of the party had been in the society of the First Consul,
where General Lannes was present, subsequent to the villainous
attempt made in the Rue Nicaise. B. observed that when the
circumstance took place he was a great way off in imagination, that
the explosion had been heard by him without reflection, and that he
was first excited to attend by Lannes, who was with him. General
Lannes explained by saying that he thought at the time, by the
breaking of the glasses, that musketry might be firing at them.
‘Lannes,’ said B., ‘you are not of the Institute; if you were, you would
have known that it was the air contained within my carriage which
broke the windows of it.’
On 16th May, 1801, I dined at Mrs. Sharp’s, in the City, on Irish
Hill, to meet Horne Tooke. He was ill, and in all probability would not
have kept his engagement, had he not been aware that the dinner
was expressly made to give me an opportunity of seeing him, and
wise as he is, he is not free from the frailty of the weak (and
oftentimes of the wise, as in this instance), in possessing a
considerable portion of vanity, for he was gratified at knowing he was
sought as a sight. He is an infirm, exhausted old man, with a mild,
placid countenance, a small penetrating eye, and a flat, broad
forehead. His manners are those of a remarkably high-bred, old-
fashioned man of quality; his sentences are precise, clear, and short.
His language obsolete and affectedly so, but often productive of a
happy and singular effect, witty and brief. He so evidently laboured
under the pressure of bodily pain that he only flashed, but from those
scintillations I could easily perceive what he must have been in his
days of vigour, when his mind, unfettered by physical infirmity, could
give itself full scope. His praises of Mr. Fox were extravagant. He
said: ‘God Almighty has made that man to show his omnipotence.’
He said to Ld. H.: ‘You see, my Lord, how your uncle has kicked me
in the dirt!’ The answer was puzzling, as it was difficult to know to
what he alluded, but he explained by adding: ‘He makes me despise
myself. He, whom I have abused from the commencement of his
political life, has been the first and only person who stood manfully
forth in my defence.’[176]
17th Nov., 1801.—Indisposition and indolence have combined to
prevent my either writing, reading, or thinking for three several
months back—after our return from Worthing. We stayed here about
a month, during which period we went to Ld. King’s at Ockham, to
Roehampton, and dined at Chiswick, and at Dss. of Leinster’s at
Wimbledon. Went to Brighthelmstone, September 15th; stayed there
till October 21st. During that interval passed 6 days at Ld. Robert
Spencer’s at Woolbeding. I called at Goodwood, D. of Richmond’s,
on our way back to Brighton; returned here October 22nd. Sleep
occasionally at a house we have taken in Albemarle Street for the
play-nights and the late nights in H. of Lords.
Peace has been made. Pitt continues
supporting Ministers; the Grenvilles are in open MINISTERIAL
opposition.[177] A negotiation has just broken off NEGOTIATION
between Grey and Ld. St. Vincent, the purport of S
which was to bring in G., the Duke of Bedford, and Ld. Moira into the
Cabinet. Grey gave up Fox with a quibble; the others excluded
Sheridan, Lauderdale, and Lansdown; insisted upon maintaining Ld.
Clare in Ireland, and Ld. Hardwick. G. said, if he is kept, we must
have a Ld.-Lt.; they would not agree. Ld. Moira objected to D. of
Portland; King could not be made to give him up. The arrangement,
when they came to terms, could not take place. G. used the D. of
B.’s name further than he was warranted, I suspect. It is all over
now; only Tierney remains with Addington.
Fox was given up shamefully. For if ever one man was bound to
follow the bad and good fortunes of another, it is surely Grey, whose
vehement and rash judgment drove the other out of the high post he
occupied; and yet he is the first to negotiate and give him up. Fie, fie,
for such patriots, when they are not true to their friends as private
men. However, Grey is perfectly honest, only violent and irresolute,
and easily swayed by sudden impressions. Pelham[178] is Secretary
of State for the Home Department: he is married to Lady Mary
Osborne, the Duke of Leeds’s sister, an amiable person, who will no
doubt make him happy.
H. House, 18th Nov., 1801.—General Fitzpatrick told us yesterday
of a curious circumstance about a copy of Gibbon’s works, which
belonged to Mr. Fox. As a marginal note Fox wrote in the beginning
of the book, ‘This gentleman, on such a day, told me that the country
could not be saved unless the heads of three or four of the Cabinet
Ministers were laid upon the table of the House of Commons. On
such a day, about a week after he delivered that opinion, he was
made a Lord of Trade by those very men.’ Topham Beauclerk, who
was a friend of Gibbon’s, offered him anything for the book, saying: ‘I
must soon die, and my books will be sold after my death by public
auction, so Gibbon’s shabbiness will be notorious and perpetuated.’
Some time after, an execution was put into Mr. Fox’s house, and his
goods were seized, but, having been assigned over to Mr. Moore,
their seizure was resisted. There was, in consequence, a trial in the
Court of King’s Bench, and one of the opposite counsel handed up
this very book to Ld. Loughborough, to prove to him that Mr. Fox
must have considered the book as his own, and not as Mr. Moore’s,
by the marginal notes, and that if necessary they should be read in
court. Ld. L., who was a more cautious friend than Topham
Beauclerk, gave the book back, saying it was unnecessary to read
them to the court. Ye General was a party to the bond, and was in
court himself when this passed.

Some months, passed in anxiety and grief, have elapsed since I

even thought of this Journal. The winter had nearly proved fatal to
Charles. Illnesses and relapses succeeded each other so rapidly,
that his strength was almost exhausted, and in February we almost
ceased expecting that he could recover. He did, but to avoid the
danger of a return, we are to pass the ensuing winter in a warm
climate.
The death of the D. of Bedford followed. What
did not that calamity cost me! In him I lost the DUKE OF
truest and best friend I possessed. His society was BEDFORD’S
amongst the greatest of my pleasures. I loved and DEATH
respected him, and was proud to see intimately the
man on whom the eyes of the public were turned with approbation
and confidence. He died as he had lived, an example to all who saw
him. At the close of a medical consultation about Charles, on ye 28th
of Feb., Dr. Vaughan wished me joy of the success of the operation
which had been performed the eve. before upon the D. of B.
Frightened at this I asked an explanation, and heard from Mr. Knight,
the surgeon (who was here for Charles), the nature of the disease.
 We left H. H. on the 8th of July (1802), with the following persons
belonging to us, ourselves, Charles, Henry Edward,[179] Mr. Allen,
Mr. Howard, and little Marsh, for Paris.
We had apartments taken for us some time before we came; they
are very spacious and convenient, the whole rez-de-chaussée of the
Hotel Beauveau, Faubourg St. Honoré. The next day we went to
Maret,[180] the Minister, to see the parade. The Carrousel has been
considerably extended, and 15,000 troops can manœuvre in it. The
explosion of the infernal machine, by destroying some houses,
rendered it more easy to enlarge the court. The Brazen Horses from
Venice are placed upon the Grille which runs across the Carrousel;
they stand separate, and produce a very poor effect.[181]
Nothing can be more splendid than the uniforms of the officers,
and the housings of the horses. The Consul rides a fine white
Arabian. He is known amidst his officers by the plainness of his
dress and unlaced black hat. The corps of Mamelukes appeared for
the first time; their sudden and uncombined evolutions give a
wildness to their appearance that shows a little what they must be
when attacking in reality. The town was illuminated in the evening,
and as carriages were prohibited in the streets, we walked, and saw
everything with the greatest ease and facility. There were public
dinners given by the Government to some hundreds of the soldiers
at each public garden.
When I first came, I saw much of Madame de Coigny, but latterly
less; she is inquisitive and talkative.
On the 15th of Fructidor, Mr. Fox was presented to Bonaparte,
who seems to have studied how to receive him in a distinguished
manner. He addressed him in a speech evidently got by heart and of
course highly complimentary. The purport was that he was the
greatest man of one of the greatest countries, and that his voice had
always been exerted on the side of humanity and justice, and that to
its influence the world owed the blessings of peace.