A Lady and Her Magic (Faerie 1)

“I need some time to digest all of this.” Sophia shoved the counterpane back and got to her feet. “I’d like to talk to the Duke of Robinsworth. If he’s still here, as you mentioned.”

Her mother’s eyes softened. “Of course, you would. Your head must be spinning with all this new information.”

She had no idea.

***

Ashley pulled his watch fob from his inner pocket by its golden chain and flipped it open. He’d been up all night, waiting for Sophia to wake. But within the room, all had been quiet since Lady Ramsdale had sent everyone else to their chambers for rest several hours before. As the clock struck six, he heard low mumbling from within the room.

He got to his feet and crept closer to the door. He desperately wanted to know what was going on inside that room. He yawned into his cupped hand. Despite the fact that a butler had brought him a chair and tea during the night, he’d been waiting diligently for hours. Perhaps now he would get some answers.

“I didn’t know dukes listened at keyholes,” a voice chirped from beside him. Ashley looked down into hazel eyes much like Sophia’s. The girl’s unbound hair had the same curl but was much lighter, more like Lord Ramsdale’s.

Ashley inclined his head at her. “In my experience, dukes can do whatever they please, within reason.” He probably sounded like a sanctimonious arse, but he didn’t care.

The girl giggled. Then she rapped lightly on the door and slipped inside. More conversation happened for a moment and then she left the room, with Lady Ramsdale at her side. The lady stopped in front of him. “She’s asking for you.”

Ashley’s heart leapt.

“This is a lot for her to absorb in a very short time. I told her things I didn’t even remember until I saw her.” She looked at him closely. “How do you feel about my daughter?”

“Pardon me, my lady, but I think I should discuss that with your daughter before I discuss it with you.” He adopted his most imperious duke’s scowl. She didn’t seem intimidated. Perhaps Sophia had learned her impertinence from her mother.

Her eyes twinkled. “Yes, I believe you should.” She stepped to the side and motioned him into the room.

He entered to find Sophia staring out the window, wearing a dressing gown with the frilly white collar of her nightrail peeping from the neckline. “I’m a little underdressed,” she said, holding her hands out to the sides.

He did the same. “Perhaps it’s me who’s overdressed.” He smiled at her. “Are you all right?”

Suddenly, she rushed forward and hurled herself into his arms. He caught her to him and let her embrace him tightly as sobs wracked her body. His heart broke for her, yet he still held her close to his heart and let her vent her frustrations, her anger. He just let her cry. When she settled a bit, he carried her over to a chair and settled into it and arranged her in his lap so that her head rested on his shoulder.

“Feel better?” he asked as he brushed her hair from her eyes.

“No. Not really.” She sniffed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She pointed to a silver casket that rested on the bed. “I suppose the answers are in that box.”

Ashley didn’t fully understand. Or understand at all.

She went on to explain. “It contains my mother’s memories. Apparently, when they took me from her, they took her memory of me as well.”

“When who took you?”

“The Trusted Few.” He must have looked confused because she continued. “The governing body of my world.” Her eyes danced from his mouth to his lips to his chin. “You know I’m not of this world.”

“I’m beginning to understand that. But it scares the hell out of me,” he admitted.

“Me, too,” she said on a heavy exhale. Then she got up and retrieved the casket. “Open it with me?”

He would do anything she asked of him. “Of course.”

She flicked the lid with her thumb and it flew open, as though some force inside was clambering to get out. Glitter shimmered and shone in the air until it began to take shape, and then, like the golden pictures she’d played over the boys’ heads in the village, it took the shape of shadowy, shimmery people who acted out the most prominent of her mother’s memories. But these pictures were accompanied by emotions. Emotions so strong they nearly stole Ashley’s breath. Regret. Pain. Longing. Agony. All tempered by love, compassion, and caring. He reached for Sophia’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

Her mouth fell open as the truth became known to her, and a tear ran down her cheek. But a smile was also tugging at her lips, and she looked at him, her eyes shimmering almost as much as the glittery pictures did. “I never would have dreamed…”

“Nor would I.” Was he dreaming? Would he wake from this and find it a figment of his imagination? Machinations of too much time spent alone? He looked down at her. She still clutched tightly to his hand. “Does this resolve things for you?”