"The most successful development I've ever made, if I may say so, my lord," the sorcerer said.
"Proceed."
Master Sean opened the shutter on the projector, and a picture sprang into being on the screen.
There were gasps from Father Bright and the Countess.
It was a woman. She was wearing the gown that had hung in the Count's closet. A button had been torn off, and the gown gaped open. Her right hand was almost completely obscured by a dense cloud of smoke. Obviously she had just fired a pistol directly at the onlooker.
But that was not what had caused the gasps.
The girl was beautiful. Gloriously, ravishingly beautiful. It was not a delicate beauty. There was nothing flower-like or peaceful in it. It was a beauty that could have but one effect on a normal human male. She was the most physically desirable woman one could imagine.
Retro mea, Sathanas, Father Bright thought wryly. She's almost obscenely beautiful.
Only the Countess was unaffected by the desirability of the image. She saw only the startling beauty.
"Has neither of you seen that woman before? I thought not," said Lord Darcy. "Nor had Laird or Lady Duncan. Nor Sir Pierre.