a number of smaller glasses, a bottle filled with a dark liquid stood ready on a small table between the chairs.
Ben immediately lost himself in the books on the nearest shelf, his fingers hovering near their spines. Cora rolled her eyes, then noticed that the butler had vanished. She looked around the room, hoping he would reappear with a glass of whiskey.
James kept his back straight as a rod as he walked over to the fire and began to warm his hands. "Lord Harcourt will be with us shortly. Please, make yourselves comfortable."
"I ain't sure about that," Cora said, advancing into the room. "I ain't never comfortable in a place where my boots don't make noise." She stamped her feet several times to illustrate.
"Hardly a reason not to enjoy yourself," said a voice from the corner of the room. Cora spun toward it, drawing her pistol. A tall figure in a well-tailored suit emerged from the shadows, a brandy snifter in his hand. "Mrs Cora Oglesby, I presume."
"My lord," James said, bowing his head. "I didn't hear you come in."
"I was here before you arrived, Mr Townsend," Lord Harcourt replied. "Now, if you don't mind, I believe I was introducing myself to the lady."
"Of course," James said, bowing again. "My apologies, my lord."
"Accepted," Lord Harcourt said. "Now then, my lady?"
"You presume right," Cora said, holstering her gun. The exchange between the two Englishmen was already boring her. "I'm Cora Oglesby." She looked for her husband, but Ben had already disappeared into the shadows. "My husband's taken a fancy to your books here. You'll meet him once he's done drooling."
Lord Harcourt offered a slight bow. "I am Lord Alberick Harcourt." He took her gloved hand in his and brought it up to his mouth.
"A pleasure," Cora said, retrieving her hand. "I hear you've got yourself a slight problem."
"Straight to business, I see," Harcourt said. "I believe James has informed you of the basic situation."
"I have, my lord," James said. "Cora has agreed to assist us with the matter."
"I said I'd hear you out," Cora said, shooting James a look.
"More couldn't be expected at this juncture," Harcourt said. "Might I offer you a glass of brandy?"
"Well, I suppose, if that's all you got," Cora said.
Lord Harcourt looked at James, who shuffled over to the small table. He filled a glass from the bottle and brought it to her. "Here you are, Cora."
"Thanks, George," she said. She took a gulp and swallowed, grimacing. "This is the best you got?"
"It is," Harcourt replied, arching an eyebrow. He shot a quizzical look at James. "Did she call you George?"
"Yes," James replied, attempting to smile. "A nickname."
"How pleasant," Harcourt said, sitting in the nearest chair. "Please, Mrs Oglesby, come and have a seat."
Cora accepted his offer and felt herself sink into the cushion. She cautiously leaned against the back, unsure if she was committing some offense, but Lord Harcourt seemed unconcerned. The firelight gleamed off of his silver hair as he turned toward his retainer.
"James, might you stoke the fire for us?" Harcourt asked.
James blinked, then stepped over to the fire. He picked up a gold-handled poker and poked at the dying flames. Unsatisfied, he tossed a few logs on the fire, sending a flurry of sparks up the chimney. The fire sputtered back to life, and James took up a post next to Lord Harcourt's chair, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Now, Mrs Oglesby," Harcourt said, crossing his legs. "As James has already told you, I have a rather urgent predicament on my hands."
"Yeah," Cora said. "You got yourself a nasty pack of vampires eating your miners."
"Yes, to put it bluntly." Harcourt took a sip of brandy. "Ordinarily, I could rely on James to handle this situation. He's quite knowledgeable about these creatures, which is why I keep him on as a retainer."
"Is that right?" Cora asked.
"Indeed," Harcourt said. "Of course, this isn't to imply that we attract an unusual amount of attention from the undead. It's a rare occurrence, actually, but remarkably inconvenient. Typically, we only have a solitary perpetrator, which James is certainly capable of handling. However, this particular infestation is quite extensive, so I deemed it prudent to request outside assistance."
"And George told you about us?"
Harcourt nodded. "He mentioned meeting you on the rail from Denver, where that reprehensible orator kept him overlate."
"Who's that?" Cora asked.
"Oscar Wilde," James replied before Harcourt could. "He was giving a lecture in Denver and I thought to stop by on my way here. I must admit,