Under her spell, p.18
Under Her Spell, page 18
“Thank you,” he replied. Saying more was impossible when he had to guard every word.
She bid him a good afternoon, paused only long enough to collect the book she had been reading, and walked out of the library. He fought the yearning to call her back and lay his guilt at her feet and . . . What? What then? Beg her to forgive him? He swore vehemently as he closed and bolted the door. He had never begged any woman for anything. All of them had given what he wanted gladly. Eagerly. All of them except Madeleine Nightingale who challenged him as no other woman had. He would be wise to consider the arrival of Allegra’s letter as a chance to save himself from the ignominy of sniffing about the skirts of a woman who withheld her charms from him.
Hearing a crackle, he realized he had clenched his fist around Allegra’s letter. He smoothed the envelope and opened it. A single sheet was inside. He unfolded it to read among the ink spots and the misspelled words.
My darling,
Oh, how I have mist you since you went down from London to your contry home. I hope all that fresh aire has not banished thoghts of me. I think of you all the tim.
I have the grandes news, my darling. My play has been exxtended, thanks to the onederfull advertising dun by your dear oncle. We will be in producshun for nother fortnite.
I know you wished for me to come to the contry with you soonere, but you know how fortunaate this turn of eevents is for me. All those xxtra performants where I will have a chance to show the world that I am the verry best Nurse ever seen in Romeo and Juliet. So do understand, my darling, that I would be with you if I could. I miss you so much, but the public is clammorring for more performances, and you know how importan it is to give the paaying audiences what they want.
I will be traveling with your oncle once we close the show. If it is not before your fare is over, I will see you when you cum back to Towne. We will enjoy a . . .
Christopher did not read further. Folding the page, he put it back in the envelope. All of his plans were ruined.
Chapter Fourteen
AS SHE WATCHED the guests mingling in the grand salon, Madeleine could not sit still. Beneath the hem of her prim light green gown, her foot tapped out a rhythm that matched the trill of sensation racing beneath her skin. She should not have skipped tending to her magic yesterday. If she had released it then, she would be fine today. But the many arrivals at Sheffield Priory had kept her from being able to meditate. It was not simply the many voices calling along the hallway, but the worry that someone would take note of the sparkling lights seeping around her door.
Why are you lying to yourself? demanded the quiet voice of her conscience.
She had postponed taking care of her magic this afternoon because she had been distressed about what had taken place in the library. The moment he had seen the writing on the envelope, Christopher had closed up as completely as a miser locking a vault. She was not curious about what was in the letter, only why the identity of the sender had bothered him.
She wished she could be as carefree as her brother acted. On the other side of the room, Roland was smiling more broadly than she had seen in more than a year. Several women and men surrounded him and listened as he talked. It was the perfect audience because he did not have to worry about an illusion. He held them engrossed with the patter he had perfected.
But, he sneezed every few seconds. The space between each sneeze was lengthening, and she knew he would stop within the next hour or so. It was no less than he deserved after what he had said when she had sought him out in his rooms. Maybe she should never have mentioned Christopher’s odd reaction to the letter to him.
Roland had asked as he checked their props, “Do you think it was from his uncle? Maybe Birmingham has decided not to attend.” He had held his head in his hands and moaned. “All our work! To have our hopes dashed is too cruel.”
“Why are you assuming it was from his uncle?”
“Why else would he be upset?”
She frowned at him. “Not having Mr. Birmingham attend the Jubilee Faire would distress you, Roland.”
“And you.”
“Most certainly, but why would it trouble Christopher?”
A sly expression slipped across her brother’s face, startling her because she could not recall seeing it before. Nor had she ever heard the tone he used as he replied, “Because he knows it would hurt you, and he wants to keep you as happy as you are keeping him.”
“Roland!” She put her hands on her waist and glared at him. “Do not speak to me so. Why are you being so hateful?”
“I am only speaking the truth.” He stood and walked toward his bedroom door. Pausing with his hand on the molding, he gave her another cunning smile. “Why does it bother you so?”
“I told you that Christopher and I are not lovers.”
“Everyone whispers about the two of you.”
“And do you believe gossip rather than your own sister?”
“I believe you would hide the truth from me.”
“Why? Have I ever been dishonest to you?” She blinked back hot tears. After all she had done for him, he thought she would lie to him.
“You have changed since we arrived here.”
“You have, too!” she fired back, her voice rising on each word. She was glad the door to the hallway was closed. “You used to treat me with kindness. Now you act as if I am not even worthy to stand on the stage beside you, as if I don’t have any more sense than an umbrella stand.” Oh, how she wished she could throw the truth into his face, but that would make matters worse. Then he would be certain she was lying to him because he did not believe in magic.
“Maddy, stop being so dramatic. We need to focus on impressing Birmingham.” He frowned. “Or maybe we are thinking backwards. Maybe Birmingham was confirming the time of his arrival, and that distressed Lord Sheffield. Then he would know there is an excellent chance that you will take your leave of this backwater to perform in London.”
“He was upset as soon as he saw the envelope.”
“You have no idea what the letter said?” he asked, deflated once more.
“I told you. I took my leave before he opened it.”
“Foolish mistake on your part.”
“The foolish mistake is the one you made when you assumed I would bed our host simply so you could get Birmingham’s attention.”
“Leave off.” He had waved her words aside as if they were unimportant. “All right. I get the point. You have not been in Lord Sheffield’s bed, so we cannot count on the earl to repay you by convincing his uncle to hire us. Unless, of course, you change your mind . . .”
Madeleine’s fury overwhelmed her. She whispered a few words, and her brother began to sneeze. Again and again and again. There would be a price to pay for the spell, but she did not care. She had slammed the door in her wake, but heard his sneezing through the thick oak.
That had been almost three hours ago. Had Roland learned his lesson about treating his older sister so appallingly? She hoped so, because she had suffered a horrible itching for almost an hour as her magic reminded her that it should never be squandered on herself. But the torment would have been worth it if Roland stopped being so arrogant.
Yet, as she saw him holding court with Christopher’s guests on the far side of the room, she wondered if anything she said or did had made a difference. He was lapping up the attention like a starving kitten with a bowl of cream. He never would be happy to return to their lives in the traveling wagon, and he would do whatever he must to grasp their family’s dream.
And she had promised to help him obtain it. But not by selling myself like a common harlot!
A small sound beneath the rumble of conversation throughout the room caught her attention and freed her from her angry thoughts. She looked to her left and smiled.
Peeking past the half-opened door, Estelle tried to see and hear everything in the room. She inched in to sit beside Madeleine.
“Are you supposed to be here?” Madeleine asked.
“Didn’t you tell me during a lesson that I have an obligation to watch and learn as much as I can from everything and everyone around me?” Estelle’s grin was halfway between a mischievous child and a young miss, exactly as she was.
“But not for you to sneak into a room uninvited.”
“Sheffield Priory is my home, too.”
“True.”
“When will we have our next lesson, Madeleine?”
“It must wait until after I have completed my private meditation.” Only by giving Estelle some mental exercises of her own had she been able to persuade the girl to respect the time alone that was vital to Madeleine. Estelle would come to understand the importance of freeing her magic, but not yet.
“Private?” She gave a derisive sniff she must have learned from her grandmother. “Impossible now with all these chattering magpies.”
“I thought you were eager to see the latest fashions from London.”
Again Estelle sniffed. “The latest fashions are not here yet. When she arrives, you will see. I—” She gasped as she looked past Madeleine. She got up and rushed out.
Madeleine turned in her chair. She smiled when Christopher winked in her direction. She was being foolish to let him charm her anew, but renouncing what was within her heart would be even more absurd. When he excused himself from the guests he was speaking with, she longed to jump to her feet and run to meet him. She fought that temptation.
“Why are you sitting alone?” he asked as he reached her.
She rose, aware of the many eyes focused on them. “I was enjoying a conversation with someone who should not have been here.”
“And who might that have been?”
“If I were to say, I would get her in trouble.”
“Her!” He grinned. “You must be speaking of Estelle. Is she becoming a burden?”
“Oh, no!” Seeing more heads turn toward them, she lowered her voice. “She is a very intelligent young woman, and she was curious about what was being discussed here.”
“Where she should not be. Children—”
“She is no longer a child, Christopher. You cannot protect her forever.”
His eyes narrowed. “That was hardly my intention.” Before she could reply, he added, “And this is hardly a topic for this time and place.”
“I know. I am sorry.”
“Do not be sorry, Maddy.” He clasped her hand in his, seemingly oblivious to the whispers swirling around them. “I owe you an apology.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Not here.”
“Yes. Later,” he answered as lowly, before saying in a more normal voice to include the eavesdroppers in the conversation, “I believe I need a break from the work of preparing for the Jubilee Faire.” His playful grin returned as he raised his hand. “Don’t say it, Maddy.”
“Say what?”
“That the servants have done all the work.”
“Which is true.”
“That is why I have planned a picnic by the stream. The servants will not be required to wait upon us.”
“An excellent plan. When do you intend to hold this outing?”
“Now.” He grabbed her hands and pulled her toward the corridor. Motioning for the others to follow, he said, “I sent a maid for your parasol, so you have no reason not to come with me right now.”
“Right now?” She flinched. Such an al fresco meal would take the whole day. To go that long without releasing her magic would be difficult.
He said nothing as the other guests swarmed past them, chatting eagerly about the surprise outing. She saw Roland amidst them. Her brother still smiled broadly, as if each of his dreams were coming true.
A bubble of joy filled her throat and sent tears rising into her eyes. Roland had shed the burden of grief and ambition so he could truly bask in the light of others’ admiration. She wished he could have it for the rest of his life.
“Is there a problem?” Christopher asked, and she saw his frown. “Are you angry with me?”
“Are you with me?”
He drew back at her question. “Is that what you believe? I have been so busy with my guests that you may think I am avoiding you.”
“I do think that.” She hesitated, then plunged on. “You have scurried away from me since that letter arrived.”
“I have.”
“You admit that?”
He nodded. “I don’t want to be false with you, Maddy. You have always been honest with me.”
She bit her lower lip. She had not always been honest with him. She had not been honest with anyone after the night Saza woke the gift inside her and then cautioned her never to speak of it. Since that night, she had lived shrouded in shadows and half-truths. She was unsure how much longer she wanted to live that way.
When he drew her into his arms and kissed her, she gave herself to the kiss. Yet, even as she savored it, a part of herself had to remain separate. She wondered if anything could make her whole again.
CHRISTOPHER SMILED as he opened the door to his private rooms. Laughter had trailed him up the stairs when he realized that he had made arrangements with everyone’s servants to have parasols and bonnets and hats and walking sticks brought . . . save for his own.
“Are you looking for this?” asked Estelle as she stood from a chair by the bay window. She held out his straw bowler.
“Yes.” Taking it, he said, “And I suspect you have been waiting here for me.”
“I want to go on the picnic with you.”
For a moment, he almost agreed, as he usually did with her pleas. Agree, and then give the care of the girl over to a nurse or governess while he pursued pleasure elsewhere. But Maddy was right. Estelle was no longer a little girl. He looked at her as if for the first time and was astonished how much she resembled her mother, an ethereally beautiful woman with the soul and brain of a scientist. Did Estelle have a similar mind? He had paid little attention to her in recent years. She was growing to be a woman, and he needed to watch over her as the surrogate father he was supposed to be. He realized, with a jolt of guilt, that he had not done much in that direction. Instead, he had put her out of his mind as he had everything and everyone in Sheffield Priory while he sought to lose himself and his anger and hurt in a wild spree through London’s demimonde.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Estelle. Not today.”
“I am no longer a child! I want to join the rest of you on this outing.”
“Not today. Another time. I promise.”
Her eyes slitted, and he could read her thoughts on her open face. How many promises had he made to her and then broken? More than he could count, and the weight of them suddenly bore down on him.
“Is it Madeleine?” she demanded.
He forced his face to remain calm at the question he had not expected. “Why would you accuse her when I am making the decision?”
“Because you are jealous of the time she spends with me.”
“Nonsense! I am pleased that you have found a friend, even though I must say she is not the person I would have selected for you.”
“Because you want her to be your companion?” She jutted her chin toward him. “Your concubine?”
“If your grandmother heard you using such language—”
“Don’t try to change the subject. I have seen you watching Maddy, and I know you think she is beautiful.”
“Which she is.”
“But you want to do more than admire her. You want her in your bed.”
“Estelle! That is no topic for a young miss.”
She folded her arms in front of her, and for just a moment, he saw his stubborn brother in her pose. “Pshaw! While you have been cavorting with Allegra Wallace and your other women in London, I have lived here in the country. I know what happens between males and females, and I will not pretend otherwise.”
“But discussing Maddy in this way is not appropriate.”
“She is my friend, Uncle Christopher, and I will not stand by and let you break her heart.”
“Do you think so little of me that you believe I would do that?”
Her chin punched the air between them again. “You may think I am too young to know the ways of the world, but I hear what is said about you. How you have loved a lot of women and how you have not stayed with any of them because you grow bored of the conquest and begin the chase anew. That you will never settle down with one and marry her and have the family you should.”
“Estelle!”
“Do not chide me for speaking plainly about what you do.” She dropped her stubborn pose and put her hand on his arm. “But, Uncle Christopher, Maddy is different. She is special.”
“I agree. I have never met another woman like her.”
“She is not like the women you have met in London. She is not sophisticated or whatever it is one calls women who take lovers as blithely as men do.” She raised her hand to halt his protest at her candid words. “Do not chide me,” she repeated. “Those women know how the sport of love is played, but Maddy is not that way. I know her, Uncle Christopher! She does not expect expensive gifts from a man. She expects him to give her his heart as she would give him hers. And when he makes a promise to her . . .”
He felt as if she had struck him in the gut as she looked away, her whole body hunching into itself. Estelle was holding up a mirror to him, and he was not sure he liked the reflection he was seeing. But what else could he be? Like father, his whole existence under the thumb of a woman? Like his brother, obsessed by his studies until nothing else mattered? Like his mother, lost in her own illusions of the world?
