A Lady And Her Magic (16 page)

“How is your nose?” she asked quickly, approaching him from across the room. She stopped and looked up at him, appraising his nose a mite too closely.

“Healing.”

She nodded. “Good.”

“You can trust me with your secrets, Sophie,” he said quietly.

“You can trust me with yours,” she retorted. One dark brow arched at him. An invitation? It was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

“When can I see you?”

She held her hands out to the sides. “You see me now.”

He wanted the intimate setting they’d had when she visited his bedchamber. Not like this.

“When can I see you?” he repeated, his voice harsh-sounding even to his own ears.
When
will
you
tell
me
your
secrets? When will I get to tell you mine?
He didn’t say the last. But he thought it.

“I can’t, Ashley.” When he began to mutter a protest, she held up a finger and shushed him. “I simply cannot live in your world.”

The door to the room opened slowly, making a creaking noise that made Sophia look over his shoulder toward it. “Is everything all right in here?” a male voice asked.

“Viscount Ramsdale,” Sophia chirped as she stepped around Ashley. “I was feeling a little faint and the good duke brought me for some air.”

“Are you well now?” The man’s gaze flicked from one of them to the other. “I would be a poor host if I didn’t offer my assistance.”

“I’m well.” Sophia looked at Ashley. “I think you owe me a waltz since we didn’t get to complete the last one.” She looked down at the torn dance card that dangled from her wrist. “And I just happen to have some free dances.” Her eyes twinkled at him.

If a dance was all he could get, he would take it.

Ashley held out his elbow and she slid her hand inside, squeezing gently as she did so. “Ramsdale,” Ashley muttered as they walked past the man.

Suddenly, Sophia pulled him to a halt. She reached into her reticule and retrieved a small silver box. She held it out to Viscount Ramsdale. “Do give this to your wife for me,” she said. Then she slid her arm back into Ashley’s and he towed her back toward the ball. He wanted to tow her toward his carriage. Or toward his bed. But he assumed a crowded ball was all he would get.

“Dance with me this night, Ashley,” Sophia said quietly as he led her onto the floor. “As though it’s our last.”

“It’s not,” he assured her.

Her eyes didn’t meet his when she replied softly, “We shall see.”

Ashley watched Sophia from behind the palm fronds in the corner of the ballroom, keeping check on her location even after he had to give her up to a new partner. It would ruin her reputation if she danced every dance with him. She didn’t seem to give a care about her reputation, but he did. He knew what it was like to have a bad one, a really bad one, and he didn’t want her to suffer the same fate.

Devil take it, just being seen dancing with him would give her more than a bad reputation. It would cause a scandal.

“Were you thinking of asking that frond to dance, Robinsworth?” a male voice asked from behind him. Ashley turned to find Mr. Marcus Thorne lounging comfortably against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. One foot was raised so that the heel of his slipper pressed against the wall. “You’ve become quite cozy with the palms while I watched. Such a loving touch you have.” He made a snort beneath his breath. “And I thought it was just my sister you liked to get cozy with.”

“Your sister. A palm frond.” Ashley shrugged. “I am not choosy.”

“Been alone too long, have you?” Thorne asked. “I could find someone for you, aside from my sister, that is, if you just have need of a tumble.”

Did the whole blasted world think he couldn’t find a whore if he wanted a whore? He didn’t want a whore. He wanted Sophia Thorne. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.” He shoved the palm frond to the side and looked for her on the dance floor. She wasn’t there. A moment before, she’d been in Perky’s arms. A respectable distance from him, but still in the man’s arms. But now they were gone.

“You won’t catch her unless she wants to be caught.”

Ashley let that comment rumble around in his mind for a moment. Then he steeled his features, looked down his nose at Thorne, and said, “I already caught her. In the village.”

Sophia’s brother scoffed. “You caught nothing.”

Ashley forced himself to chuckle, although it was the last thing he wanted to do. He stepped closer to Thorne. “I most definitely caught her. And you are well aware of it. In fact, I imagine that’s why you came to find me in the foliage.”

Thorne straightened his back. “Perhaps I like palm fronds as much as you do.”

“Perhaps you think I’m an idiot.”

“Perhaps you give yourself too much credit.”

Touché.

Thorne sighed heavily. “What do you plan to do with the knowledge you obtained?”

Ashley shrugged. “I haven’t decided.”

“She can’t be in your world. Not permanently. Not if she wants to remain in ours.”

Again with the world? His world and her world weren’t that different. She was obviously a cultured lady. She had a tongue sharp enough to cut glass, but her manners were perfect, her dress divine. She didn’t lack funds or education. Not that he could tell.

“How much of it is a ruse?” he asked.

“All of it,” Sophia’s brother replied without even blinking. “Nothing about her is as she’s led you to believe.”

Ashley grunted. He didn’t know what to say to that. But something about the lady called to him. That wasn’t entirely in his head, was it? It couldn’t be. There had to be a reason for it.

“Another will come along, Robinsworth. One who can be what you need.”

Another wouldn’t be Sophia.

Thorne’s hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed it. Ashley fought the urge to shrug him off. “I don’t offer marriage lightly,” Ashley informed him.

“I don’t warn you off marriage lightly,” Thorne responded. He was difficult to read, but Ashley almost sensed that he regretted his words. The whole situation. “I warn you for your own good. She’s not of your world. She can’t stay in it.”

“Try to take her from it, and you’ll regret it,” Ashley finally bit out.

Thorne’s face softened. “No, I’m afraid you will.”

***

Sophia fanned her face as Captain Perkins led her from the dance floor. It was growing warm enough that she felt moist in the crowded room.

“Can I get you some punch?” the captain asked.

“Punch would be heavenly,” Sophia sighed with a smile. He was a nice man. Not everyone had insides that matched their outsides, and vice versa, but she sensed that his did. He led her over to the punch bowl, allowed a servant to prepare a glass for her, and placed it in her hand. She took a healthy sip. “Thank you.”

He looked toward her torn dance card and grinned. “It appears as though no one has taken the next few sets.”

Sophia laughed. “I wouldn’t have a clue if someone did or not. Perhaps someone will remember me and come to claim their due.” She shrugged. She really didn’t care if no one arrived to claim her. She enjoyed talking with Captain Perkins. She’d rather be with Ashley, but the captain was a nice man.

“I’m surprised Robinsworth hasn’t come to claim you, yet.” He glanced about them. “Perhaps he left?”

Sophia highly doubted it. She scrunched up her face.

Captain Perkins laughed. “Yes, I doubt it as well. He seems rather intrigued with you.”

Sophia didn’t know what to say to that.

“Will you accept a friendly warning about him?” He looked down at her, his gaze serious and concerned.

“Something tells me I do not have a choice in the matter.” Then she squeezed his arm. “Pray continue. It will do me good to hear the truth about the man.” She batted her lashes at him. “You did intend to tell me the truth, did you not?”

He chuckled and leaned close to her. “When you do that flirty little thing with your eyelashes, it makes me want to lie to you just to see if I can coerce you to do it again.” He sighed dramatically. “But, truthfully, Robinsworth is a dangerous man.”

“So I have heard.” She clucked her tongue at him. “What evidence do you have of this?” She tugged the top of her glove toward her elbow and didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to give too much credence to his words. No more than they deserved.

“His wife falling from the tower of their ancestral home is not evidence enough?”

“I don’t believe he pushed her.” Sophia would not believe that. Not for a second.

“Nor do I,” Perkins said quickly.

“Then why on earth are we having this conversation?”

“Because someone did push her. She did fall from the tower.”

“You don’t think she could have tossed herself from the turret?”

“Not very likely, since she was confined to a wheeled chair. She could barely move herself from the bed to the conveyance.”

Sophia’s gaze shot up to meet his. She had heard none of this. Not once had anyone mentioned that the late duchess was disabled. “What was her ailment?”

“That’s not common knowledge.”

“Of course, it’s not.” Sophia drank the last of her punch and passed the glass to a waiting footman. “Nothing about the Duke of Robinsworth is common knowledge.”

“One thing is well known, Miss Thorne. He’s dangerous. Do take care around him.”

Sophia nodded. What more could she do? It wasn’t as though she would be alone with the duke any time in the near future. Her mission had been given to Claire.

The next set began and no one came to claim Sophia for a dance. Sophia was relieved. But the music began to steal her wits.

“Are you all right, Miss Thorne?” Captain Perkins asked, taking her elbow in his palm to steady her.

“The music,” she said, raising a hand to rub her temple.

“Would you care to walk with me to the card room? I’d like to check on my sister. The last time I saw her, she was heavily involved in a game of whist.”

She tucked her hand into his arm and inclined her head. They started down the long corridor, but as they walked farther toward the noisy, voice-packed room at the end of the passage, Sophia heard a melodious voice coming from a nearby room. “Who is that?” she asked of the captain.

He inclined his head toward the sound and concentrated. “Sounds like Lady Ramsdale, maybe?” He shrugged. “I’m not certain.”

“Lady Ramsdale sings?”

“Like a songbird,” the captain said. “She has the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard.” He shook his head. “But she only sings by special request for special guests. It’s rather rare to hear her break into song in this type of setting.”

They continued down the corridor toward what Sophia assumed must be the music room, and the words become clearer and clearer, as did the tone. It struck her heart like an anvil strikes metal. Like the kick of a horse. Like the tick of a clock that ticked at her very being. Like Ashley’s music. She inhaled deeply and tried to steady herself.

The captain stepped to the side and motioned for her to precede him into the room. She did so, skirting around the room to stand in the rear. There were fewer than a dozen people in the room, but it seemed crowded. Sophia let the sound of Lady Ramsdale’s voice wash over her, closing her eyes as the lady hit the high notes, feeling them all the way to her soul. In that moment, it was almost as though a piece of her cracked into two pieces.

Unfounded tears suddenly burned the backs of her lashes, and she found it nearly impossible to commit to a full breath. She blinked hard and studied the woman standing beside the piano. Lady Ramsdale’s auburn hair tumbled from her upsweep to tease her bare shoulders. Bare shoulders that were riddled with freckles. Freckles she obviously didn’t feel the need to hide. She had them across the bridge of her nose as well. Her nose was narrow and her cheekbones high. She looked quite fae, truth be told.

Sophia’s lungs began to burn with every inhale. She laid a hand on her chest and tried to steady herself. But the lady’s song was tantamount in her mind. Then Lady Ramsdale reached one hand to adjust the pewter comb that held her hair in place, and as she adjusted, Sophia thought she saw the edge of a pointy ear present itself from behind her hair. Lord Ramsdale was beside her in a trice, adjusting her comb and patting her hair back into its place. She smiled softly at him, a wicked little smile that made him blush. She ran a fingertip slowly down his upper arm. He shot her a playful look and stepped away from her.

She continued to sing, never breaking her stride, the music rising and falling over Sophia like water over the falls. And just as harshly. Her knees began to tremble. She reached out one hand toward Captain Perkins as a tear traced a hot path down her left cheek. But suddenly, the captain wasn’t there. Sophia stumbled into a hard object. She looked up, her vision blurred by her tears, and saw the man she needed. The only one she needed.

“Ashley,” she said aloud. The music in the room stopped. Every eye turned toward them.

“Sophie,” he said, his brow furrowing as he caught her to him. “What’s the matter?”

She stretched her arms about his neck and held on, but her arms quivered under her own weight, and her knees refused to support her. She collapsed against him. He swept her up into his arms and looked down into her face.

“Sophie,” he cried, his voice harsh and jarring. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

He lowered his face close to hers, as though he could give her the breaths that left his mouth to replace her own, which refused to support her. “I think she’s my mother,” Sophia whispered. Then darkness overtook her, and she let it.

***

Ashley looked down into Sophia’s face and took in her pale countenance, her closed eyes, and the weakness of her body, and his heart lurched within his chest. “Sophie,” he called to her, gently jostling her within his arms. “Come on, Soph,” he urged.

Sophia’s brother approached him and attempted to take her from his arms. “Let me have her, Robinsworth,” he said, shooting Ashley a glance that could have stopped a charging elephant in its tracks.

“Not on your life,” Ashley replied, turning her body away from her brother. It was terribly selfish of him, he knew. But he wasn’t about to put Sophia in anyone else’s arms.

Suddenly, her grandmother was at his side. “Come this way,” she urged, as she bustled out the door and down a long corridor. She stopped at a small yellow parlor and stepped to the side to allow him in. Ashley lowered Sophia’s inert body onto a settee and dropped to his knees beside her.

“Did she grow overwarm?” Ramsdale asked from the doorway. But then his wife shoved her way into the room and moved Ashley to the side with a gentle push. He made way for her. He didn’t want to, but he did. He’d never felt quite so lost. Quite so desperate for help.

Lady Ramsdale took Sophia’s hand in hers and squeezed it gently. She touched the side of Sophia’s face with gentle fingertips, as though looking for something even Ashley couldn’t see. When she looked up, tears welled in her eyes. “Mine,” she breathed. Then a sob tore from her throat, and she pressed a hand to her mouth and rose. She dashed across the room and flew into Sophia’s grandmother’s arms.

Lord Ramsdale looked about as discomfited as Ashley felt. He watched his wife with horror on his face. Lady Ramsdale cried into Sophia’s grandmother’s shoulder until her sobs became small hiccups. Then the older lady pushed Lady Ramsdale from her with her hands upon her shoulders and said, “It took you long enough to recognize us.” She grinned an impudent and unrepentant grin.

“Exactly what is going on, here?” Thorne asked.

Lord Ramsdale shrugged. Ashley couldn’t answer either. And Sophia still lay on the settee with her eyes closed, her breaths falling naturally and comfortably in her stupor. Only Sophia’s grandmother and Lady Ramsdale had a clue as to what was transpiring, it seemed.

“I never thought she’d find me,” Lady Ramsdale breathed. Then she looked at Thorne and covered her mouth again. “Marcus,” she said. She crossed the floor and tried to envelop him in her arms. He stepped to the side, incredulity still written on his face. Thorne looked to Ramsdale as though begging for assistance with his wife.

“He doesn’t recognize me,” she said with wonder, as another sob hiccupped from her.

“Have we met, Lady Ramsdale?” Thorne asked.

“Once upon a time, yes,” she said. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. She didn’t reach for him again. Not yet.

Suddenly it was clear to Ashley. The flashing hazel eyes. The dark auburn hair, with more curl than was fashionable. The high cheekbones and pixie-like appearance. But it wasn’t his story to tell. It was hers. And Ramsdale appeared to be in the dark as well. The poor man’s gaze was flashing from one person to the next.