A Lady and Her Magic (Faerie 1)

“So that my friends can see what a dear boy you are, of course,” she explained. “They see so little of you that naturally everyone is curious.”

Now he was a carnival attraction. Fabulous. “No,” he clipped out.

“My friends have been led to believe by many who are in Town for the season that you are more than just a recluse. That you’re a murderer. That you killed your wife. That you have two heads. That you have a curved backbone that twists your body into absurd proportions.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Yes, all of those things have been whispered about. I want to show them that you’re none of those things.”

More likely, she wanted to show off the Hall. Show off her position in society. Show off her wealth. Or his wealth, actually. But, to her, it wouldn’t matter. “And just who do you plan to invite to this gathering?” That would make all the difference in the world.

His mother began to tick off names of prominent members of society, many of whom had marriageable daughters.

“Absolutely not, Mother!” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “I will not allow you to play match-maker.” Truth be told, none of those women would have him. They’d quiver and stare and stammer when he came into a room. They’d pretend to be interested in him, but only long enough to gather fodder for the scandal sheets.

“Don’t you think a house party sounds like a grand idea?” She beamed with pride as she glanced around the marble entryway of their ancestral home. “The estate has been much too quiet of late. It’s like a great sleeping beast and only needs someone to breathe some life into it.”

“No more than ten guests, Mother,” he sighed. “And I will not be attending. So, do not think you will find a wife for me.” He turned on his heel, trying to avoid his mother’s frantic clapping and shrill shriek, but she reached for his sleeve.

She patted his arm. “I could find a mistress for you, if you prefer. It would help your temper greatly.”

A mistress? Good Lord. “I have no need of a mistress, Mother,” he ground out.

“How long has it been, Son?” she whispered dramatically. “Years? Months?” She nodded to herself, a silly smile playing about her lips. “A paid woman would accept you.”

“Mother,” he snarled.

“Oh, never mind,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I promise not to even try to make a match for you.”

“No courtesans. No widows.” If he kept going, the party would cancel itself simply by lack of participants.

She mulled it over, tipping her head from side to side. “I accept,” she finally said.

He turned to walk back to his study. “No matchmaking, Mother,” he called back to her.

“You won’t regret this, Robin,” she called to him.

He already did.

***

Sophia cringed as her grandmother placed a vial of shimmery pink dust in her hand. “This one is for truth. Use it sparingly, Sophia,” she said with a frown.

“I am not certain I’m ready for this one.”

“I completely agree, but you’ve been taxed with unlocking the secrets in a little girl’s mind. They’re secrets she’s not even aware she’s carrying.” Her grandmother took Sophia’s hands in hers and squeezed. “Use it with great caution. Because if you use it for the wrong reason, the results can be disastrous.”

“Disastrous? In what way?”

“In a way that will affect your life forever,” her grandmother warned.

Sophia tucked the dust vial into her reticule and stood. She glanced quickly around the rooms her grandmother had let upon their arrival in London. The accommodations weren’t too differe

nt from the land she came from. But the clothing certainly was. Sophia tugged at her bodice. She wasn’t used to wearing so many layers of clothing. She turned to face the family matriarch. “What type of dust did you use to coerce the dowager duchess into inviting us to her house party?”

“None at all, my dear.” Her grandmother smiled benevolently at her. “I simply paid her a visit. She was deep in her cups at the time, but she still remembered me.”

“You’ve walked between the two worlds enough that you have old friends?” How odd that her grandmother had never told her of her escapades.

“Indeed, I have,” she said cryptically.

“How long has it been since you’ve been on a mission? I don’t remember you traveling when we were younger.” In fact, she remembered her grandmother as always being a solid presence in her life. Much more solid than the parents she’d never met.