A Lady And Her Magic (3 page)

Ashley stood in the shadows on the upper level and glanced down into the foyer from behind heavy drapes. His mother was in her glory, greeting her guests and introducing those who didn’t know one another. He watched closely as people filtered into the entryway, each one stopping to stare at the glamour that was the Hall.

He had to admit that the Hall was fairly stunning. It was his home after all, his refuge. It was his shelter from the storm that had been his life for so long. He’d rarely left it in the days following his wife’s death. It was much easier to hide.

He’d pampered his home with endless attention, mainly because it had never said terrible things to him. It had never accused him of misdeeds and had never once mentioned the word “murder.”

The only place he didn’t go was the west wing. No one was allowed to go there. Not after that fateful night.

Anne dragged him from his reverie when she tugged his sleeve. “That’s the lady from the park, Papa,” she said softly, her face glowing with happiness as she leaned over the railing to look down into the entryway. He jerked her back so quickly that she jumped and rubbed absently at her arm. “Ow,” she murmured, looking at him from below lowered lashes. She looked just like her mother when she did that.

“Apologies, Anne. You know how I feel about the railing. Please stay back.”

“Sorry, Papa.” Anne had no idea why he was so cautious when it came to high places. Hopefully, she never would. “But that’s the lady from the park.”

Ashley narrowed his eyes and looked down into the foyer. It was difficult to make out faces from that height, particularly when he really wanted to linger in the drapes and have no one notice he was there. But then she looked up at him and his heart lurched. Miss Sophia Thorne, the lady from the park, stood at the bottom of the stairway looking up at him like the innocent she was.

A grin tugged at his lips, despite the fact that it was a foreign feeling. She inclined her head at him in silent acknowledgment, and he raised a finger to his lips. He didn’t want the rest of the party to see him skulking in the drapes. They’d assume he was hiding. And, although he was, there was no need to draw attention to it.

She smiled broadly when he raised his finger to his lips, but she obviously understood his desire to have his presence remain a secret, because she turned to the older woman with her and devoted her attention to his mother.

“I want to be like her,” Anne whispered from her spot beside him where she clutched his hand. There were worse ladies she could emulate, like her mother.

He tipped her chin up so she’d look at him. “You be like you, and it’ll all turn out just fine,” he said. She grinned her toothless little grin at him. He leaned toward his daughter’s face. “When did you lose your front tooth?” he asked.

She poked a finger at the empty space. “It came out this morning.”

“Perhaps the tooth faerie will come tonight,” Ashley said.

Anne’s smile faltered. “She didn’t come the last time,” she said with a sigh.

“Why on earth not?” Certainly Wilkins hadn’t let the opportunity to coddle his daughter pass him by? Then Ashley shook his head. When had her care fallen to Wilkins? Ashley would have to do better.

“Wilkins said she must have been busy.” She shrugged.

Ashley drew his daughter against his side and hugged her. He needed to find a governess for his daughter. Someone who could be solely devoted to her care and well-being. Wilkins was a good substitute, and he made certain the staff took care of her, but she wasn’t his charge. She wasn’t his priority.

He would have to do better.

***

Sophia watched him from the foyer as he stood there in the shadows. The duke was a regal presence, totally at home with the opulence of his estate. She’d noticed him lurking there long before he’d seen her. He looked like he’d rather be drawn and quartered than forced to host a house party. He raised a finger to his lips, as though they shared an unspoken secret. A shiver crept up her spine.

“Are you all right, dear?” the duchess asked of her. “You’re not taking on a cold, are you?” She snapped her fingers at the butler, who stood sentry over the servants who hurried about with the arriving guests. He glared at the duchess, raised his nose in the air, and very promptly dismissed her without saying a word. “I detest that man,” the duchess mumbled. “He’ll learn his place if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

Sophia smothered a laugh.

Sophia’s grandmother smoothed a hand down the duchess’s arm. “Good help is so hard to find.” The duke’s daughter skipped down the steps toward them. Sophia couldn’t keep from smiling at her, particularly since her father still lurked behind the drapes. She tried not to look directly at him and draw attention to his position behind the drapes, but it was incredibly difficult not to. Knowing he was there made her want to study him, to watch him as closely as he was watching his guests. Despite his unsociability, he was obviously interested in the proceedings.

“It looks as though you have someone’s attention,” her grandmother murmured at her.

“It would appear so,” Sophia whispered back. That was part of her task, wasn’t it? “But he’s frowning a bit. You don’t think that’s on my account, do you?”

“He smiled when you looked up at him, Soph,” her grandmother chided with a soft smile. “I’d say that’s a good sign.”

“Good morning, Miss Thorne,” the little girl chimed as she finally reached the bottom of the stairs.

Sophia put her hands on her hips and pretended to look affronted. “Well, look who’s here,” she said playfully. “Do they know you’ve sneaked into the party? I say, the duke is going to be none too happy if he finds out there are party-crashers about.” She shook her skirts out. “Perhaps you should hide in my skirts so they won’t toss you out into the street. I hear the duke doesn’t like urchins.”

The little girl’s eyes grew as big as saucers. “I am not an urchin. I am Lady Anne.”

Sophia rubbed at her chin between her finger and thumb and pretended to contemplate the situation. “You’ll never pass for Lady Anne. I’m sorry, it simply cannot be done. I hear Lady Anne is the most regal of creatures and that she always has a smile for everyone. When I saw you in the park, you certainly were not smiling. You were being quite a termagant.”

“But my papa is the duke,” the child said, and Sophia feared she would stomp her foot and fling herself into a tantrum any moment.

Sophia knelt down with a conspiratorial whisper. “The man in the park with you was the duke? The Duke of Robinsworth?”

The girl looked supremely satisfied with herself as she nodded. She pointed toward the drapes, but no one lurked in the shadows. “He was there a moment ago.” Her face fell. Then she shrugged. “It’s of no importance. He bade me to give you a message.”

“Is it written in blood on secret paper?” Sophia asked.

Lady Anne covered her mouth and giggled. “No, it’s in my head.”

Sophia straightened back up to her full height. “That’s the best kind of secret, then. Let’s hear it. If such a thing exists.” She looked down her nose at the girl.

Lady Anne giggled again. “He’d like to welcome you to the Hall.”

Sophia leaned toward the girl’s ear, and cupped her hand around her voice. “He might just have to come out of the drapery to do so, won’t he?”

“He doesn’t do that,” the little girl said. “But he’s waiting for you in the garden.”

Sophia’s heart skipped a beat. “Which way?” she asked.

The little girl slid her hand into Sophia’s. “I’ll show you.” Then she gave a gentle tug and started down the corridor.

Sophia shot a look at her grandmother, who responded with an ever-so-tiny nod. She became immediately thankful of Anne’s guidance as they traversed the maze of corridors that was the Hall. It seemed almost as though one turn led to another. And another. And another, until Sophia found herself lost.

Then suddenly, they arrived at a door that was manned by a servant who immediately stepped out to open it. “Do the guards get changed at midnight?” she asked of Anne.

“The one on this door does,” Anne informed her, as though it was the most normal of occurrences. “This is my father’s favorite place. And no one but he is allowed to visit it.” She grinned sheepishly. “Except for me, of course. But only if I behave.”

“Of course,” Sophia replied. “I’m honored to be invited into the inner circle.”

“It’s just a garden. Not a circle.”

“It can be whatever the lady desires,” the duke said as he stepped into their path. He looked astonishingly at ease. He glanced down at Anne and said, “Why don’t you go and check on the duchess. I assume she would like your assistance greeting guests.”

“But Grandmother doesn’t like me,” Anne protested.

“Grandmother loves you,” he began, but he didn’t have one single thing to say about how or why she loved her. He clamped his lips together instead.

“
My
grandmother will love you.” Sophia leaned down to whisper dramatically at Anne, “And she has confections in her pocket.” She placed her finger over her lips and made a shushing sound. “But she doesn’t want anyone to know. She likes to give them out to really well-behaved children.”

“I’m really well-behaved,” Anne chirped.

“I’m certain you are,” Sophia agreed. She addressed the duke. “She’s a fantastic guide,” Sophia informed him, and the little girl beamed under her praise.

“May I go?” she said, dancing in place as she asked.

“Run along,” the duke said to his daughter. He looked almost relieved as she scurried away. He faced Sophia with chagrin. “It’s not often I make arrangements to meet young ladies in the garden,” he began to explain. “But it appears as though the rest of my house has been overtaken. It’s difficult to find a refuge.” He looked behind her, as though an interloper lingered. “Do you have a maid with you?”

She’d brought a house faerie who served as her lady’s maid, but she couldn’t take Margaret everywhere with her. Particularly not when she was on a mission. “No, it’s just me,” she informed him.

“Is that safe?” he asked, arching one dark brow at her.

“You tell me,” she said, unable to keep a laugh from escaping.

“You are a breath of fresh air, Miss Thorne,” he tossed out.

“Because I am not afraid of you?” She wished she hadn’t said it as soon as the words left her mouth. “I’m not afraid of you,” she rushed on to say. “In case you were curious.”

“I was quite curious,” he admitted. He turned to pick some dead leaves from a nearby bush that had obviously seen happier days. He didn’t continue for several moments. Then he speared her with a glance. “Why is it that you’re not afraid of me? Grown women quake at the very thought of me.”

“I’m a grown woman,” Sophia protested.

His gaze traveled slowly down her body and back up to her face. “How old are you?”

It was probably the fact that she wasn’t part of the
ton
that allowed her to answer truthfully. “Six-and-twenty,” she said.

“Firmly set upon the shelf?” he asked, the corners of his lips tipping up. He seemed relieved to hear of her age.

“I imagine it would depend on whether you’re referring to a cupboard shelf or a ballroom shelf.” She stepped closer to him.

“What’s the difference?” He tilted his head when he looked at her, reminding her of an inquisitive puppy.

“Perspective.” One flitted onto a cupboard shelf when one needed privacy. She’d never sat on a ballroom shelf. That would just be odd.

He chuckled. “True.” He continued to fuss with the plant he’d been pruning with his bare hands. The poor thing would be bald before they were done talking.

“Did you call me to your private sanctuary for a reason?” she finally asked.

“I wanted to welcome you personally.” He bowed slowly. “Welcome, Miss Thorne.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said with a tiny curtsy. His face hardened almost imperceptibly at her choice of using his title. “It’s quite gratifying to find that you do not have a hunched back. Or a horn growing out of your forehead.”

“Oh, so they’re comparing me to the great mythical unicorn, are they?”

“They’re cantankerous animals. You’d think they’d be more complacent, since their only magic rests in that knobby, unattractive horn.”

His eyes narrowed as he appeared to mull over her statement. “Beg your pardon?” he finally asked.

“You were speaking of unicorns, were you not?”

“I was.”

What an odd conversation. “They’re nearly untrainable. And very high in the instep, the lot of them.”

He tossed his head back and laughed. “I believe I’m going to like you, Miss Thorne,” he said.

She certainly hoped he did. Her mission rested upon it.

The clatter of warring voices arose from the other side of the door she’d entered through to get to the garden. His eyebrows shot together. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” he had the courtesy to ask.

“Of course,” she replied. She watched his rigid carriage as he strode toward the door. His Hessians were perfectly polished, his clothing immaculate. Only his hair looked disorderly, as though he’d run his hands through it over and over. His shoulders were broad, his hips narrow.

“You should not be looking at the duke’s backside,” a voice full of censure called out from behind a nearby bush.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked as she strode toward the noise. She shoved some foliage aside and looked down. “Oh, you!” she groaned. “You should not be here,” she scolded.

The garden gnome glared up at her. Ronald was only as tall as Sophia’s knees, but he could have easily been glaring down at her with the way he made her feel. “I still think it was a bad idea for your grandmother to bring
you
here. I can only see bad things in your future.” He began to pace back and forth, wringing his hands in front of him. “Only bad things. No good things at all. This is all wrong. All bad.”

Sophia put her hands on her hips. “Has fortune-telling become a new power of yours? The last I heard, your kind was good for no more than gossip and an occasional errand.” She was being purposefully obtuse, of course. Everyone knew gnomes were speakers of the truth and were revered for their wise counsel. Only this time, he could shove his counsel up his…