Fighting monsters and demons in association with BBC Cult.
feelings were vulnerable where Sophia was concerned. He had noticed her at a dinner party the spring before and then only two nights ago he had run into her and her father, the Honorable Judge Simon Winchell, at the theatre. He had spoken to Judge Winchell at some length about bank business, yet the entire time his mouth moved without his brain being attached to the words. His psyche was on fire with keen longing for a few moments spent alone with the glorious Miss Winchell.
Sophia had given him a couple of shy glances that had made his heart come near to bursting, but the young lady's governess had foiled his plans for interaction by removing her charge to the family's box.
His rumination was interrupted by an eternally bemused, disembodied voice that filled the room. "You called?"
William almost dropped the shoe-polishing kit he was holding. He whirled to find the mischievous Lord Byron casually leaning against the wardrobe. Well, leaning was not quite the right word. Ghosts were not bound by the same physical rules as humans. Ectoplasm, the material of their spirits, had substance, but nothing definable by natural science.
