The Marriage Spell (19 page)

The duchess waved her hand. “You have presence, breeding, and intelligence, which are the basic requirements to be Lady Frayne. Town polish is easily acquired. But tell me about that accident. Did you really save Jack's life?”

The full story would reveal what Abby was, but she couldn't lie to Jack's sister. Wondering if this would destroy the duchess's good regard, Abby said bluntly, “He took a terrible fall and broke his neck. When his friends brought him to our house, he was paralyzed and on the brink of death. His friends didn't want to notify his family until his fate was certain. I organized a healing circle, and together we were able to repair the worst of the damage. He has recovered with remarkable speed. A fortnight from now, he won't need the cane.”

The other woman's expression changed. “You are a wizard?”

So the duchess didn't approve of magic. At least she didn't call Abby a wyrdling. “Everyone in my family is gifted with exceptional power.” Jack's magic she didn't mention. That was between brother and sister. “My gift is for healing.”

The duchess leaned forward, her hazel eyes blazing. “Can you cure barrenness?”

So it wasn't disapproval that had caused Celeste's expression to change so markedly. “I don't know,” Abby replied. “There are many causes of barrenness. I might be able to help, but no one can guarantee a cure.”

“I know there are no guarantees.” With visible effort, Celeste sat back in her chair. “I have already consulted the best physicians, and I've secretly gone to healers, too, without success. But if you could save Jack's life after he broke his neck, perhaps you can succeed where others have failed.”

“I didn't do it alone, Celeste.” It was easier to use the duchess's given name now that the talk had become so personal. “We had a full healing circle of talented wizards. Such powerful magic is best suited to healing great injuries or illnesses. Lesser physical problems require a lighter touch, and perhaps somewhat different magical skills.”

“I know all that. But…please, will you try?” The naked pleading in Celeste's eyes was painful to see.

Abby had seen such desperation many times. She never became indifferent to it. “I will try. And I hope you will not hate me if I fail.”

The duchess gave a crooked smile. “I haven't hated any of the others who failed. Whatever the results, I will be grateful that you saved my brother's life. And I will pray that you and Jack never suffer this particular kind of hell.”

The pieces suddenly fit together. “This is the source of the estrangement between you and your husband, isn't it? The failure to provide him with an heir.”

Celeste caught her breath. “You're very perceptive. I suppose that goes with your other talents. Yes, we've been married almost ten years, and I have never once quickened. It has not been for a lack of trying on our part. The physicians all said I was a healthy woman and surely it was only a matter of time.” Her hands knotted in her lap, no longer elegant. “More than three thousand days and nights have passed, yet still I have been unable to give my husband a child.”

“The duke cannot forgive your failure?” The thought did not endear him to Abby.

“Of course he is deeply disappointed, but he has accepted my barrenness, perhaps better than I.” Celeste gazed across the room, eyes un-seeing. “The estrangement between us is the result of my telling him that I would cooperate if he wanted to take a mistress and pass off any resulting child as mine. The suggestion shocked him almost senseless. He…he accused me of wanting him to take a mistress to justify my taking lovers. Our relationship has not yet recovered.”

Abby caught her breath. “How sad that you made an offer that cost you great pain, and that his rejection has caused you even more pain.”

Celeste sighed. “I shouldn't have done it. Piers is the most honorable man in the kingdom, and he takes his wedding vows seriously. But I thought after all these years, he might be grateful to have an heir that was his if not mine. Instead, he thinks I…I don't love him.”

“Surely in time he will realize that your suggestion was an expression of great love,” Abby said comfortingly.

“If he doesn't, there will be no chance for a child at all.”

So the duke and duchess were no longer intimate. No wonder both of them were unhappy. “Celeste, why are you speaking so freely to a woman you've only just met? I hope I am worthy of your trust, but I find your candor surprising.”

“I am not usually so forthcoming. But…” The duchess smiled wryly and made a quick gesture with her right hand. A glowing ball of light formed on the palm.

“Good heavens,” Abby gasped. “You're a wizard!”

“Not really,” Celeste said, though she looked pleased at the words. “My natural power is modest and I had no proper training. I learned early that having magic would make me despised, so I hid my ability. It was a relief to realize that with you I could be myself, for both of us have much to conceal.”

So the duchess was offering a pact of silence. Abby found herself feeling sorry for the other woman, who was forced to hide a vital part of her nature. Though she was beautiful, wellborn, and titled, she had not had the freedom and support Abby had enjoyed. “I will not betray you, but the fact that I'm a wizard is likely to become public knowledge soon. My family is well known in the shires, and so many men hunt there that the news will reach London quickly.”

“I suppose you're right.” The duchess narrowed her eyes, but her expression was friendly. “The more people who meet you before your wizardry becomes known, the better. It's harder to cut a woman one has met. Luckily, the taint of magic has never been so severe for our sex. I shall hold a ball to present you to society as soon as possible.”

Abby winced. “Please, is that necessary? I truly dislike the idea of being shown off like a prize cow.”

“I understand, but a ball is indeed necessary. You've married into the beau monde. Jack is about to take his place as one of the great men of Britain. It isn't required for you to be a famous hostess or a dazzling beauty with an entourage of flirtatious gentlemen around you, but you must be known, accepted, and respected. Out of London you can be less fashionable, but here you owe it to Jack to make an effort.”

Abby sighed. “I said I'd do my best to be a good wife, so I will do my duty. But I shall need your aid rather desperately. My dancing is as provincial as my wardrobe.”

Celeste's gaze moved over Abby from head to foot. “Forgive my tactlessness, but do you dress so plainly because you wish to be acceptable but not memorable?”

“I'm afraid so. Partly that is because of the work I do. Too fashionable an appearance would require time and effort and might make me look unapproachable. I don't want those who need me most to be afraid to ask for help.” She hesitated, then added, “And to be honest, fashion simply doesn't interest me. I like to be comfortable and to blend in. Beyond that, there are more interesting things to do than stand around having pins stuck into me.”

“That's all very well for the country, but not London.” The duchess tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the armrest of her chair. “You have good bones, and I suspect that under the plain dress and shawl is a decent figure. A good modiste and a corsetiere will do wonders. There's no need to go to a public salon—I shall have them come here.” She grinned. “I'm quite looking forward to this.”

“I'm glad one of us is!” But Abby smiled when she said it. She had gained an ally in London, and also, she thought, a friend.

Chapter
XVIII

T
he duke closed his study door behind them, then opened a handsomely inlaid wooden box. “A cigar?”

“Thank you.” Jack seldom smoked, but he and his brother-in-law had developed this ritual over the years. It gave them time to relax and get used to each other again. God knew they could hardly be more different, but they always got on well.

The duke lit the cigars with a taper, then motioned Jack to sit in one of the deep, leather-upholstered chairs. “Congratulations on your marriage. Your bride looks like a sensible woman.”

“She is.” Jack drew in a mouthful of fragrant smoke, then slowly released it. Piers had the best cigars in London. “She's a Barton. The family is well respected in the Midlands.”

“Will you be returning to the army?”

“I'm selling my commission. Visiting a broker is on my list of tasks.”

“Good.” The duke regarded the glowing tip of his cigar gravely. “The sooner you take your wife north and reclaim Langdale Hall, the better. Matters there are not good, Jack. I wish you'd given me more authority to deal with the situation.”

Though a solicitor handled routine business affairs for the estate, Piers had kept an eye on both solicitor and estate while Jack was with the army. “The problems are mine to solve. How bad is it?”

“The income is less than half what it should be. There has been disease among the livestock and blight on the crops. Tenants have left and not been replaced, fields are lying fallow, and I hear the remaining tenants look as desolate as plague victims.” He frowned. “I don't understand why affairs are in such a state. Sir Alfred Scranton is not a stupid man and his own estate does well. There is no evidence that he is looting the property or deliberately mismanaging it. Yet Langdale Hall doesn't prosper.”

“The estate has been cursed ever since my mother married that man.”

The duke made an expression of distaste. “Surely you don't believe in curses.”

Reminded of the other man's traditional views, Jack said, “Not a literal curse. I meant that nothing has gone right since Scranton persuaded my mother to marry him.”

“I've never quite understood that match,” the duke mused.

“Whatever his other failings, Scranton adores her,” Jack said grudgingly. And his mother was a woman who needed to feel adored. “The man is a blight, but he's no thief.”

It would be up to Jack to send Scranton packing, even if that meant throwing his own mother from his house. Which was why he had avoided Yorkshire for so many years. Once it had seemed as if he faced impossible choices. Now that he had married Abby and dismantled Stark's crippling spell, the choices no longer seemed impossible. Merely very difficult. Not wishing to discuss the matter further, he asked, “How is the world treating you, Piers?”

The duke shrugged. “Well enough.”

Which was a lie, now that Jack looked more closely. His brother-in-law appeared gray and unhappy. Older than his years. The gray was in his face and in the faint glow of energy around him.

Since breaking down the iron door in his mind, Jack had found that he could see auras despite his conscious attempts to bury his magic. Most of the time the ability was a distracting nuisance, but he had to admit that sometimes it was convenient.

Celeste hasn't looked her best, either, though he hadn't noticed at the time because of her enthusiastic greeting. It didn't take a genius to deduce that there was trouble between his sister and her husband, but it wasn't something he could ask about. Piers was intensely private. And to be honest, Jack wouldn't know what to do about someone else's marital problems, not when he hadn't figured out his own marriage.

The duke handed over a slim sheaf of papers. “Here's a summary of your estate accounts to review before you meet with your solicitor.”

“Thank you.” Jack knew from experience that his brother-in-law's summary would be concise and insightful, going to the heart of any problems. “I'm fortunate that you have been willing to watch over my affairs.”

“Managing property is my only talent, so I enjoy exercising it,” the other man said dryly. “But now it's your turn.”

Jack scanned the estate summary, wincing at the income total. Much of the income was being reinvested in an attempt to turn the estate around, so far with little effect. A good thing Jack wasn't the high-living sort. “I'm planning on spending only a few weeks in town. Long enough to take my seat, sell my commission, and introduce Abby to the ton. Then it will be time for Langdon.”

“Of course you are welcome to stay here as long as you wish.”

“I appreciate that. It's been so long since I've seen the inside of Frayne House that I have forgotten what it looks like. Now that I'll be in town regularly for Parliament, I'll have to take possession when the lease expires. The place probably needs refurbishing after so many years of being let out. Respectability is a lot of work. Expensive, too.” He set the accounts aside. “Can you refresh my memory about how one takes one's seat?”

“You'll need to have formal robes of state made up.” The duke smiled faintly. “Be grateful the weather is still cold; otherwise all that velvet and ermine is deucedly hot. After you're presented to the house by two lords who are the same rank as you, you swear an oath of allegiance to king and country.”

“Do I have to give a speech?”

The other man shook his head. “Your maiden speech will come later, whenever you feel ready. It's customary to give a short, uncontroversial address that will be congratulated no matter how bad it is. This is the only occasion on which you can count on your fellow members to compliment you on your speaking.”

Jack had never studied rhetoric, but he'd done his share of speechifying as an army officer. He knew how to project his voice and make his point, so when the time came, he'd be ready. To his surprise, he realized that he had opinions, lots of them, about how the country should be governed. Performing the duties of his rank might be more amusing than he'd thought.

The duke stubbed out the remnant of his cigar and got to his feet. “I'm sorry to rush off, but I have a meeting to attend. I'll see you later.”

Jack retrieved his cane and stood. “I'll go up to Celeste's boudoir and see how the ladies are getting along. I'm not sure if they'll like each other or be at each other's throats.”

“I hope your bride is up to the talons of the city,” Piers said as the men left the study. “A girl from the country might find society alarming.”

Wondering if his brother-in-law was implying that Celeste had grown talons, Jack ascended the sweeping staircase that led to the upper floors. He had become adept at climbing steps, especially when there was a solid banister to hold on to. Cane in right hand, railing in left, yes. He was going to be a dab hand at crutches and canes by the time he needed neither.

As he knocked at the door to Celeste's parlor, he heard a burst of laughter from inside. Thinking that sounded promising, he entered the room. “You two seem to be managing well.”

“We are indeed.” Not bothering to ask if he wanted tea, Celeste poured him a cup, added milk, and set a plate of pastries beside it. “Thank you for marrying Abby instead of that dreadful Devereaux chit you flirted with last year.”

“You didn't like Lady Cynthia?” he asked, surprised. “I thought she was the sort of young lady you approved of. Wellborn, well behaved, and pretty.”

“She's a sly cat.” His sister smiled at Abby. “I should have had more faith in your judgment.” Abby's expression turned satiric, but she didn't comment.

“I think it was my luck, not my judgment.” He took the chair between his wife and sister, laid down his cane, and started in on the tea and cakes. “Who won the battle of the ball?”

“Celeste has convinced me that a ball is necessary. Luckily, she is willing to take care of all the hard work involved.” Abby glanced at her new sister-in-law. “Have you decided whether to mention that matter we discussed earlier?”

Celeste's quick alarm shifted to determination. “Jack, I never dared tell you, but I have a touch of sorceress in me.” She raised her hands and a globe of light formed on her right palm. She poured the light into her left hand with liquid smoothness.

“Good heavens!” He stared at his sister. “I didn't know you could do that.”

“It's not uncommon for magical gifts to run in families.” Abby's voice was neutral, but he recognized the strong hint in her voice. She obviously thought it was time for brother and sister to be honest with each other, and she was right.

“Power does run in families, Celeste. Maybe you were too young to realize, but I was sent to Stonebridge because I was showing signs of magical ability.”

“So that's what happened,” his sister said thoughtfully. “I knew the academy's goal was to suppress magic, but since I was so small, I couldn't remember if you'd done anything magical or you were merely too interested in the subject. Sometimes I thought I'd invented memories of your doing magic to make myself feel better.”

His sister had needed to feel better? He didn't like knowing that under her bright, happy surface, Celeste had been painfully concealing her talent, even from him. He should have been a better brother. Thinking she would be glad to know how much they had in common, he held out his hand and imagined a ball of light on his palm. “I wonder if I can do that?”

The effort made his temples throb, but a glow appeared.

“Oh, well done, Jack!” Abby applauded.

Jack closed his hand around the light, obliterating it. “Magic is part of me. But that doesn't mean that I want it or will ever use it.”

“True, but it's healthier to accept your talent, even if you choose to ignore it.” Her gaze moved from Jack to Celeste. “You've both suffered from having to suppress your abilities.”

“Jack more than I,” Celeste said. “Once or twice I was caught practicing magic, and while I was scolded, I was never beaten the way Jack was.”

Abby's eyes narrowed. “You were beaten?”

“Regularly.” Jack's voice was terse. Some memories deserved to stay buried.

And yet…Another long-buried memory surfaced, and without thinking he reached out mentally to lift one of the little lemon-filled pastries and send it flying toward his sister.
“En garde!”

The pastry abruptly slipped from his mental control and reversed direction to whip back across the table toward Jack. It stopped just short of his nose and hovered. His sister exclaimed, “Good God, we used to do that in the nursery! I'd forgotten.”

“So had I.” Jack stared cross-eyed at the pastry, shaken that both he and Celeste were able to send it flying. “How much have we forgotten? And was forgetting natural, or were spells laid on us? Abby, can you tell?” He plucked the pastry from the air and ate it in one bite. He felt the need to eat something sweet.

Abby looked troubled. “The only way to be sure would be to enter your minds. Given your father's powerful dislike of magic, it's possible, even likely, that he had you both bespelled. It's not uncommon for people of your class to lay a mild suppression spell on children who show signs of magical ability. If that spell wasn't strong enough and you continued to experiment with magic, it would explain why Colonel Stark was asked to cast a much more powerful spell on you. If only a mild spell was laid on you, Celeste, it probably wore off after a few years so you could resume working with magic.”

“While I qualified for Stark's stronger spell because I was the son and heir. Lucky me.” Jack dropped his hand when he found himself rubbing the shoulder where the anti-magic spell had been emblazoned. “Celeste, do you think you were bespelled? I only remember us tossing things around the nursery when we were very young.”

“We seem to have stopped and forgotten. That would fit with a mild suppression spell.” His sister smiled ruefully. “Until now, my earliest memories of doing magic were when I was twelve or thirteen. But even before then, the subject interested me. I used to borrow books from Mr. Willard.”

“You, too? Oh, Celeste, we've hidden far too much from each other!” Jack wondered if his life would have been easier if he'd realized he could confide in his sister. Perhaps. Maybe then he wouldn't have buried so much of himself.

“I think you were both treated abominably,” Abby said crisply. “I wonder who cast the spells? Ethical wizards won't do such work on someone who is unsuspecting. But there are always magic workers who are willing to do anything that is well paid.”

“There are several wizards who specialize in placing such spells on wellborn children,” Celeste said tightly. “I've heard other women discuss them, and what age their children should be when they're be-spelled, but it never occurred to me that I had been a victim myself.”