A Lady And Her Magic (11 page)

“See Miss Thorne to her room,” Ashley barked at Wilkins. The man merely nodded once. “And your discretion is warranted.” He nodded once more.

With that, Ashley started down the corridor, with the taste of Sophia Thorne on his lips and the feel of her in his hands. And all he could think about was how much he wanted more.

Wilkins said not a single word to her as he navigated the maze of corridors that led back to her chambers. He walked stone-faced, not showing a hint of emotion. It made Sophia want to stick her tongue out at him, or pull her nightrail up around her knees and dance around him, just to see how he would respond.

The very thought of it brought a smile to her lips. She probably looked like the cat that ate the canary when the butler stopped at her door, opened it for her, and stepped to the side.

“Good night, Wilkins,” she murmured.

“Miss Thorne,” he said with a serene nod of his head.

Sophia stepped into the room and leaned heavily against the door. She hugged her arms tightly around herself and squeezed, a giddy laugh escaping her throat. Ashley had kissed her. He’d really kissed her. And it was nothing like Sophia had expected a kiss to be. She hadn’t expected at all for it to be like that. For him to taste like that. For him to take over her senses like that. She spun quickly in a circle, his dressing gown billowing around her.

“Where have you been?” a deep voice barked from the chair beside her bed.

Sophia stopped spinning and turned to face the noise. “Marcus?” she asked. Faint light shone on half of his face, casting the rest of him in shadow. He looked none too pleased, and Sophia raised her chin a notch to stare back at him. “What are you doing here?”

He crossed one foot over the other knee, shifting slightly in the chair in a relaxed pose, a pose Sophia knew well wasn’t relaxed at all. “I came to collect my wayward sister,” he said. “Both of them.”

“Both of us?” What did he mean by that? She’d left Claire at home.

“Claire followed you.”

“How did she get past the fish?” Sophia asked. Sophia had bribed them with clothing. Men who could only walk the earth on the night of the full moon desired clothing over all else.

“The same way you did, it appears. When we get home, I’ll have to replace my whole blasted wardrobe.” His fist struck the arm of the chair with a halfhearted blow. Then he exhaled heavily. “What were you thinking, Soph?” he asked softly.

Sophia crossed to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed, across from her brother. “They wanted to clip my wings,” she said hesitantly. She’d completely bungled her last mission. All because of a music box she’d clumsily tripped over. The music had caught her attention for a moment, and then she’d found herself in the clutches of a child. It had taken all of her magic to get out of the situation. And had caused untold amounts of trouble.

“And now they most assuredly will,” he said, as he sat forward and looked at her. He looked at her a bit too hard. With too much pity for her comfort. “This mission wasn’t meant for you.”

“Claire wasn’t in trouble. She has nothing to prove. She can stand to lose this one.” At least that’s what Sophia had told herself all week. Ever since she’d arrived from their land.

“She’s not very pleased with you.”

Sophia could just imagine Claire stomping her feet and throwing a fit at the very thought of losing to her little sister. “She’ll survive it.” Sophia dropped to her knees in front of Marcus. “Don’t you see, Marcus? This was my last chance. I have to do this right. I can’t lose my wings.”

“You think the Trusted Few will let you keep your wings if this works out,” Marcus said, his face softening with understanding. “Soph, this won’t change their minds. If anything, it’ll put you in their sights.” He rubbed his eyes with his closed fists. He looked tired. Guilt poked at Sophia for a moment.

“Where’s Claire?”

Marcus shrugged. “I haven’t found her yet. I only arrived today. I suspect she arrived yesterday. But I’m not worried. She’ll be here soon, I’m certain.” He sighed heavily. “How is the mission going? Have you spent a lot of time with the child?”

She’d spent a lot of time with the child’s father. But not necessarily the child. “There are a lot of layers to this mission,” Sophia began.

Marcus let his eyes drop to peruse what she was wearing. “Is that a man’s dressing gown?” he asked as he jumped to his feet. He looked toward the door. “Just where have you been, Soph?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she started. But he held up one finger to silence her.

“Tell me you haven’t broken any of the Unpardonable Errors.”

“I haven’t! I haven’t broken a single one!” She hadn’t let anyone see her in faerie form, not even Anne. Nor had she used her magic to cause harm, even though she wanted to do terrible things to the duke’s brother. She had protected her dust. And although she wanted more than anything to tell Ashley what she truly was, she hadn’t. And she couldn’t fall in love with a human. That would just be tragic. And in opposition to her very nature. “I haven’t, Marcus. I swear it.”

“Whose robe is that?” Marcus asked.

“It belongs to Anne’s father.”

“The Duke of Robinsworth?” His brows drew together in consternation. “Were you alone with him, Sophie?”

“Only for a moment,” she said hesitantly. A moment each day. Every moment she could steal. “He’s out of isolation,” she tossed out. “I did accomplish that.”

“He’s a well-known hermit,” Marcus said. “He rarely shows his face in public.”

She lifted her nose in the air. “He does now.”

“What did you do?”

“He likes me,” she whispered. And a grin tugged at her lips despite the fact that she tried to hide it. She couldn’t. The fact that he liked her made her supremely happy. “He came out of seclusion. For me.”

“And this is a good thing because?” he prompted.

“His daughter is forced into seclusion with him. It won’t be until he returns to his rightful place in society that she can take hers. She can’t heal with him here in hiding.”

“Have you found out the truth of his situation?”

“Not yet.” She held her finger and thumb up, and indicated the small space between them. “But I’m this close. This close, I promise.”

“Soph, I think you should return this mission to Claire.”

“There’s no possible way I’ll turn Ashley and Anne over to Claire.” She shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not. I will see this mission through to completion.” If it was the last thing she ever did before her wings were clipped, it would be worth it.

“Ashley, is it?” Marcus asked, his voice dreadfully heavy.

“That’s his name,” Sophia quipped back. Then she thought for a moment and jumped to her feet. “There’s something I need to see,” she said.

“Can it wait until tomorrow?” he asked, his voice weary.

No. Anne’s night terror would be over by then. “I need to go and see what upset Anne. Come along or not,” she said. “But I’m going.”

***

Ashley strode down the corridor, trying his best to take his mind off the sprightly little lady who’d been in his chambers only moments before. But it was difficult. He could still taste her on his lips and feel her in his arms. But a scream from his daughter’s room broke him from his improper thoughts, in somewhat the same fashion a glass of cold water tossed upon his person might.

Ashley quickened his pace. When he entered Anne’s room, he found her nurse sitting on the edge of the bed trying to coax Anne from the corner into which she’d retreated. “Excuse me,” Ashley muttered as he motioned her to the side and reached for Anne. She scrambled across the bed and into his arms, clinging tightly to his neck as her legs wrapped around his waist.

He rubbed her hair and crooned to her, the way he did every time she suffered a night terror. She sobbed into his bare neck, her hot tears leaving a sticky path in the crease between his shoulder and neck.

“Shhh…” He crooned. “There, now. Is it really that bad?”

She nodded into his neck without lifting her head, but at least her sobs and shaking were beginning to subside.

“Must have been a positively wretched dream,” he said softly. He motioned for the nurse with one hand. “Leave us, please,” he mouthed to her. When the door was closed firmly behind the nurse, he set Anne slightly away from him so he could look at her to be certain she was truly all right. She drooped onto her pillow with a heavy sigh and a large sniffle.

“Better now?” he asked.

She gave him a tearful nod.

“Do you want to tell me what it was about?” he asked gently as he arranged the bedclothes around her.

“I was falling,” she croaked out, her voice still choked by her former tears.

“Falling, as in you tripped?” he questioned. He already knew the answer. It was the same dream she always had.

“No, I was pushed,” she said with a hiccup.

It was as he feared. Anne had experienced the same nightmare for weeks after her mother died suddenly. It had lessened through the years, but it was still at the back of her mind. It only resurfaced in times of difficulty. “You’re safe in your bed now,” he soothed.

“I was falling,” she repeated.

“You’re not falling now,” he said softly. “Are you?”

“No.” She sniffled again.

“You’re tucked safely into your bed.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead. “Would you like for me to tell you a story?”

She gave him a hesitant nod and he crawled higher in the bed to lie beside her, then began his lighthearted tale.

***

“He doesn’t look very dangerous,” Marcus murmured from beside her on the windowsill where he perched precariously beside Sophia. He unbalanced himself on the sill, and Sophia had to reach out to catch him. It was unfortunate that male faeries didn’t have wings of their own. “He looks normal,” he lamented.

Sophia shook her head, not drawing her gaze from Ashley and his daughter. It felt almost like eavesdropping to observe such an intimate moment. “He’s not dangerous. Just misunderstood.”

“Did he kill her?” Marcus always did have a way of getting to the meat of a matter.

Sophia whispered. “He says he did.”

Marcus nearly fell from the windowsill. “He
did
?” he croaked.

“Shh,” Sophia warned, placing a finger against her lips. Ashley’s eyes moved toward the window, but then were drawn back to his daughter.

“He did?” Marcus whispered back. “He admitted it?”

She shrugged. “More like he alluded to it.”

“Did he or didn’t he?” Marcus growled.

“He didn’t.” She straightened her back and flexed her wings at him. “I’d stake my wings on it.”

Marcus whistled low under his breath. “You probably have, Soph,” he said quietly.

“I know.” She did know. What more could she say? But something told her Ashley was innocent. Now she just had to prove it.

The next morning, Sophia woke to find the sun already peeking over the horizon. She jumped to her feet and made for the washbasin. If she wanted to intercept Ashley and Lady Anne before the rest of the inhabitants of the Hall did, her best bet would be to catch them during the private breakfast they shared each morning.

As Sophia tugged her nightrail over her head, she couldn’t help but wonder where Margaret was. She was supposed to be helping her with these confounded human clothes, even if she found the task of waiting on Sophia distasteful. Sophia knew she’d placed Margaret in an awkward situation, but she’d do her best to make it up to the house faerie.

A cough from the window jerked Sophia from her reverie. Actually, it sounded more like someone choking. She spun quickly, not surprised at all to find Ronald perched on the open windowsill. She shivered as the coolness of the morning slipped beneath her nightrail and tickled her ankles. “You could at least close the window,” she scolded.

But Ronald just sat there and swung his feet, looking supremely satisfied with himself. Why did that bode poorly for Sophia? She stopped and faced him. He looked much too confident for her pleasure. “I’ve been given a new post,” he said with glee, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

A new post? “What sort of new post?” Sophia was almost afraid to ask.

He hopped down from the windowsill and turned to pull the pane closed. But his legs were a little too short. Smothering a laugh, Sophia closed it for him.

“I could have done it,” he groused.

“Of course, you could,” Sophia agreed. Once he got a chair and some books to stand upon, perhaps. But saying so would hurt his feelings. And Ronald with hurt feelings was worse than Ronald on a mission. “Tell me about your new post,” she encouraged.

He preened, tugging on his short little waistcoat. “I’m to be your shadow.” He grinned with satisfaction.

“By whose orders?” Sophia could already imagine. But she should probably hear him say it before she negated her brother’s orders.

“Your brother arrived last night.” Ronald didn’t say anything else. Just that.

“I’m aware of that.”

“He’s not very pleased with your situation.” Ronald looked much too gleeful. The little tuft of red hair on the top of his head twitched along with his dancing eyebrows. The sight of it made Sophia want to laugh. But she restrained herself. It was difficult, however. He gave a mighty tug to his waistcoat again. “He has dispatched me as your shadow.”

So now Ronald would have permission to skulk around behind her. Lovely. He did so, regardless of anyone’s orders. Sophia rolled her eyes for show. “He did no such thing.”

“He did. He did so. He did require my services. You require my services. Your family requires my services.” He began to pace. “Your mission requires my services. He said so.”

Sophia sighed heavily. “I’ll have him rescind your orders.”

Ronald’s chest puffed out. “You will do no such thing. I can make a fantastic shadow.”

Too fantastic. She’d never be able to get him out from under her feet.

“Shadow… doormat… They’re very much the same thing, are they not?”

“Certainly, they’re not,” he said with a little snort. “I’ll be there to protect you. From the dangerous duke. From yourself.” He pointed his stubby little finger at her.

“Where is Marcus?” she asked with a huff.

“Below stairs, the last time I spied him. He was on his way to break his fast with the object of your affection.”

Sophia dropped the brush she’d been dragging through her hair, and it landed with a clatter on the hardwood floor. “Why would he do that?” she breathed to herself.

“Why, indeed?” Ronald asked. He clucked his tongue at her. “I, for one, am grateful he showed up when he did. It’s exhausting keeping up with you all by myself. And now that there are two of you…” He let his voice trail off.

“Me and Marcus?” She spun to face him.

“Claire is here,” he said with a wide grin. Blast his hide. He was enjoying his cryptic little game much more than he should, and she was allowing him to get under her skin.

“Where?” Sophia bit out, then worked to calm her temper.

“Below stairs, storing her belongings, the last time I saw her.” Below stairs? Why on earth would she be below stairs? But before she could ask, Ronald jerked a chair closer to the window, thrust the pane open, and hurled himself over the side. Sophia ran to the window and looked for him in the shrubbery. Gnomes were surprisingly agile. They could very nearly bounce when vaulted from a great height. That was probably why they were such great climbers. They had no fear of falling.

“Are you all right?” Sophia called softly. Ronald jumped from the shrubbery and began to brush himself off.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you,” he called back with a wide, toothy grin. He cupped a hand around his ear and looked at her expectantly.

Blast his hide. Garden gnomes were insufferable.

A quick knock heralded Margaret’s arrival, just before the door was thrust open and the errant maid slipped inside the room. “Where you have been?” Sophia barked.

Margaret just arched a brow at her. “I was returning a lost dressing gown to His Grace.” She heaved a disgusted sigh.

“Did you see him? His Grace, I mean?”

Margaret fumbled about the room, picking up here and there. “No. I saw Simmons. I don’t think he likes me.”

“Since when has that mattered to you?” Sophia mumbled.

“He’s a handsome man,” Margaret said, her voice somewhat winsome as she stared off into a distance that Sophia couldn’t see.

Sophia snapped her fingers in Margaret’s face. “Hello,” she called.

Margaret jerked herself from her reverie. “You don’t have to shout.” She took a deep breath. “You need to remain cautious around His Grace.” She held up a hand when Sophia started to speak. “I know it’s contrary to everything you’re feeling…” She narrowed her gaze at Sophia. “But these late-night meetings can come to no good.”

Sophia dropped heavily onto the edge of her bed. “I don’t know that I can avoid him now.” Tears pricked at the backs of her lashes. Somewhere this mission had gone terribly wrong.

Margaret sat down beside her and brushed Sophia’s hair from her forehead with gentle fingertips. “I saw your mother go through the same thing. I know it’s difficult for you. But you have to stay true to your mission.”

Sophia forced herself to focus. “My mother?”

Margaret sighed heavily. “Yes, your mother.”

“Tell me what happened to my mother.”

“Doing so could taint your current relationships. I cannot.” She shook her head. “But know that it causes immeasurable heartache. Avoid it at all costs.” She leaned close and looked directly into Sophia’s eyes. “Fae marry fae. Humans marry humans. It’s the natural order of things. It’s only when humans and fae mix and fall in love that things become difficult.”

“Why does it have to be difficult?” Sophia groaned. Why couldn’t she just enjoy getting to know Ashley and Anne? Why couldn’t she fall in love?

“What if it’s already too late?” What if she’d already broken Unpardonable Error Number Five? What happened in that case?

“Don’t follow in your mother’s footsteps,” Margaret warned. She stood up and reached for a dress for Sophia. “Let’s get you dressed. I fear there will be a small amount of havoc caused by Claire’s arrival. You’ll need to counter it.”

“Are you part soothsayer?” Sophia asked absently.

“No,” Margaret said with a chuckle. “I’ve just lived a long time and have seen a lot of things.” She tipped Sophia’s chin up to look into her eyes. “Heed my warnings. Falling in love with the duke will only lead to heartbreak.”

What if it was much, much too late?

***

The Duke of Robinsworth filled a plate for himself and one for his daughter and sat down at the table in their private breakfast room. He’d actually ambled close to the public breakfast room, but no one was up and about yet, aside from two doddering older women who were friends of his grandmother. He wanted to avoid them at all cost. So, he’d settled for another private breakfast, despite his former affirmation that he would be joining the house-party festivities.

He’d make another attempt after he breakfasted. He might join them for archery. But, then again, everyone might fear for their lives if he even looked toward a bow and arrow. Devil take it, anything he picked up would make people fearful, depending on their perspective.

The door to his private dining room opened, and he looked up to find Wilkins, who inclined his head and said, “The new governess for Lady Anne has arrived.”

Ashley wiped his mouth and looked at Anne. The little girl’s face fell quickly and harshly. “Something wrong?” he asked of her.

“I don’t want a governess,” she said with a pout.

“If that lip pokes out any farther, someone will step on it,” Ashley said as he stood. He addressed Wilkins. “I thought the agency refused to send any more of their referrals.”

“That’s correct. But this one was brave, evidently.” He eyed Anne askance. “I interviewed her and found her qualified.”

“By all means, show her in,” Ashley said as he sat back and waited.

“She’s installing her things in her chambers,” Wilkins explained. “But I’ll bring her about and introduce her as soon as she’s ready.”

Ashley dismissed Wilkins with a nod. Then he faced his daughter. “Absolutely no frogs in this one’s bed,” he warned. “Or insects.”

“I know,” Anne sighed.

“You’ll be on your best behavior,” he continued. “And under no circumstances are you to set anyone’s hair on fire.”

Anne got a little gleam in her eye at the last, almost as though she was proud of doing it.

“Don’t even think about it.” He shook a finger in her direction. But with the look on her face, he had to bite back a grin. He reached over and ruffled her hair. She jerked back from him and straightened her locks with stiff, unhappy movements. Perhaps she was getting too old for him to tousle. Another lady he’d love to tousle came to the forefront of his thoughts. A little dark-haired lady with flashing eyes who smelled like bluebells. He would like very much to muss up her hair.

He called to a footman. The man stepped to attention. “Fetch Wilkins for me?” Ashley asked hesitantly. He wasn’t at all certain he was making a good decision. But he needed to see her. She was becoming as integral to him as breathing.

Wilkins entered the room a moment later. “Would you find Miss Thorne for me? I’d like to invite her to ride with me this morning.”

But a man stepped around Wilkins and directly into his line of sight. “Perhaps you should ask me instead, Your Grace.” He bowed slightly. His bow and salutation warred with the annoyed look on his face.

“I don’t know you, much less do I want to ride with you,” Ashley said, immediately realizing how acerbic his tone was, but he didn’t like the way the man looked at him.

“Your Grace,” Wilkins began. “This is—”

“I don’t particularly want to ride with you either, but as my sister’s guardian and the head of our family, you should at least ask for my permission before you take her off alone.” The man lifted his nose in the air. “Did you plan to make an offer for her?”

“An offer? Of marriage?” Ashley asked. Wilkins sputtered even more than Ashley did. Poor man. But in the back of Ashley’s mind, that didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Of marriage, yes.” He glanced around the room, taking in the startled butler and the still-pouting Anne. “Could you clear the room, Your Grace?” he asked.

“Of all the nerve,” Wilkins breathed.

“No need,” Ashley said quickly and crisply. “Deliver Anne to the new governess,” he said to Wilkins as he strode through the door. He motioned to the stranger. “Follow me, sir. I think my study is a much better place to discuss any slight I may have given you.”

“Decidedly so,” the man said as he followed Ashley down the hallway. The man was so close on his heels that Ashley didn’t even have time to formulate a plan. He breezed into his study and stalked behind his desk. He sat down and began to shuffle through a stack of correspondence while he collected his thoughts.

The man coughed loudly.

“Oh, do sit,” Ashley groused with a breezy wave of his hand.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“You know who I am, but I have not had the pleasure,” Ashley said.

“Everyone knows who you are, Robinsworth.”

“Quite so,” Ashley agreed. He sat back heavily in his chair. “And you are?”

“Marcus Thorne, Your Grace.” At what must have been Ashley’s blank look, the man continued. “Sophia’s brother.”

Ashley narrowed his gaze. “When did you arrive?”

“Late last night. I had some matters to catch up on at home before I could join the festivities.”

“Late last night…” Ashley repeated.

“Very late.” He speared Ashley with a glance. “Late enough to catch my sister returning to her chambers in nothing more than a nightrail and your dressing gown.”

If his teeth pressed more tightly together, Ashley feared he would break his jaw. “I see,” he said.

The man jumped to his feet. “Do you see? Do you really?”

“I believe I do.” Ashley sighed heavily. “What would satisfy you in this situation?” The only thing that would satisfy Ashley would be to marry her. But he didn’t want to seem too eager.

“Did you defile her?” Mr. Thorne asked from between gritted teeth.

“You’ll have to define the word ‘defile,’ I’m afraid.” Ashley leaned his elbows on the desk to regard the man closely.

“Did you take liberties with my sister?”

“Again, it’s all about perspective,” Ashley equivocated.
Ask
me
the
right
question. Will I marry her? Yes!

The man put his palms of his hands on Ashley’s desk and regarded him closely. “What are your feelings for my sister?”

“Now we get to the meat of the matter. You have finally asked the right question.” Ashley tried his best to set his pride aside. And his past. And concentrate only on his future. “I’m quite fond of Sophia,” he said hesitantly. He hated the way his head tied his tongue in knots.