A Lady and Her Magic (Faerie 1)

t 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.

“Let’s move Sophia above stairs, shall we?” Lady Ramsdale said with a wave of her hand. Ashley moved forward to pick her up, but Ramsdale moved faster.

“I can carry my daughter above stairs, thank you, Your Grace,” he said, his voice cracking at the last. Then he speared Ashley with a glance. “Can I leave it to you, Your Grace, to handle the festivities while I take care of familial obligations?”

Meaning, could he give Ashley a meaningless task to take his mind off the fact that Sophia was about to meet her parents for the first time? To keep him from hearing their deepest secrets? To permit them some dignity during this trying time? He supposed he owed them that much. “May I call upon her when the guests have departed?”

Ramsdale glanced down into Sophia’s sleeping face, and he coughed to clear the lump from his throat. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

Ashley shook his head. “Today.”

Ramsdale sighed heavily. Ashley feared he had some explaining to do. And so did they.

Twenty-Two

Sophia woke to the notes of a gently hummed song. The sound of it washed over her like a warm blanket, comforting and snug. She blinked her eyes open, not entirely sure of where she was, and took in the sunny bedchamber with the reddish-purple hues of the sunrise visible out the window. She stretched broadly and looked for the source of the hum.

At her side, a woman sat with an embroidery hoop in her hand. She pulled a piece of gossamer thread through the sheerest of fabrics. She hummed softly to herself as she did so, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her hazel eyes suddenly rose to meet Sophia’s and she startled. Her grin widened. “Oh, you’re finally awake.”

Sophia sat up on her elbows. “Where am I?” she asked. Then vague recollections of the night before clouded her senses. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to remember. But it was all cloudy. One thing she did remember, however, was falling into Ashley’s arms just after she’d recognized her mother.

Her mother.

Her mother sat before her. There was no doubt in Sophia’s mind that the woman smiling at her was her mother. The lady brushed her hair back over her ear and Sophia noticed the small pointy crest of it, evidence that she was fae. She let her gaze linger on the woman’s features. So much like her own.

“I know this is all a shock to you,” Lady Ramsdale said, reaching a hand toward Sophia. But Sophia scuttled outside of her grasp in the big bed. Lady Ramsdale tilted her head to the side and sighed heavily. “I understand your reticence. Really I do.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them back, and then swiped quickly at her nose. “I have a lot to tell you,” she said.

“You’ve had twenty-six years to tell me anything I needed to know.” Sophia knew the words were harsh. They made her wince, and she was the one who said them.