Wizard's Daughter (Sherbrooke Brides 10)

"You would have become exactly what you are only you would not speak Chinese and have Lee Po about to correct Marigold's English. I begin to believe she makes mistakes on purpose to gain his attention."

He couldn't help himself, he laughed, kissed her, said against her temple, "Captain Jared certainly has the old girl going, doesn't he?"

The day seemed interminable, so many hours to be got through until the sun set and it could be considered night. Nicholas and Rosalind did indeed visit tenants, happy to welcome the new countess, happy to see Nicholas now their roofs didn't leak, there was hay in the sheds for their ani­mals, and grain grew in the fields.

They spoke to three more women who were willing to sing with a ghost and work at Wyverly Chase, and they man­aged to get through a tense dinner with Nicholas's three half brothers and his battle axe stepmother.

Nicholas asked Richard as he sipped on a lovely Bordeaux, "You had this vision only once?"

"That's right. It was real. It was the truth. But I see you still have her with you. You are a fool, Nicholas, a right fool." Richard shrugged. "Why should I care? After she flings your heart into the bushes, I will be the Earl of Mountjoy."

Miranda hissed.

Richard turned to her. "What makes you dislike that im­age, Mother?"

Miranda waved her fork at her son. "A vision simply shouldn't happen to a fine, normal, wickedly handsome young man like yourself. It happens only to crazy old men like your grandfather, whose blasted ghost sang out a 'prithee' to me."

"I rather like his songs," Aubrey said as he chewed on Cook's ham. "I wonder if he will allow me to sing with him."

Miranda hissed again.

"All of you are bloody mad," Lancelot said and threw a slice of bread across the dining room. "I want to leave. There is no reason to stay in the same house with a murderess. And Nicholas amuses himself at our expense. He will doubtless try to kill us, or set his wife to do it."

Rosalind was beginning to think that dispatching the lot of them wasn't a bad idea.

"Not if his precious wife stabs him first," Aubrey said, and Rosalind saw him grinning behind a spoonful of vegetable marrow soup. "What with all that violent red hair, I imagine she has a formidable temper, is that true, Nicholas?"

"He wouldn't have the nerve to strike her," Lancelot said, his mouth full, "now that he knows she'll cut his heart out. As for that heathen servant of his, I swear the fellow is cursing me whenever I chance to see him. He looks foreign. I don't like him."

Nicholas said, "It's true, Lancelot, that Lee Po knows

many meaty curses, some of them designed to tangle up your innards so you choke on your own guts. I'd keep my distance from him." Nicholas paused a moment, looked around the table. "You know, perhaps Lancelot is right, all of you should return to London. Perhaps after dinner. Or af­ter an early breakfast in the morning. Thank you, Richard, for delivering your vision message."

Richard came right out of his chair. "No!" Nicholas lounged back in his earl's chair, arched an eye­brow. "No? Why ever not?"

"I cannot," Richard said, his voice, his very posture in­tense. His hands were splayed on the table, his knuckles white. There was something desperate about him, Nicholas realized, but what was it?

45

Dinner dragged on with no explanation from Richard. Nicholas and Rosalind finally left his family to tea and whist. Lancelot was in a vile mood, throwing down his cards as if each one were a weapon. Aubrey baited him, said he was pretty as any girl he'd ever seen, which Nicholas thought wasn't far from the truth. Aubrey's smile never faded, his good humor seemed inexhaustible. On the other hand, Aubrey spent most of his time at Oxford. He didn't have to live with this bunch.

As for Richard, he brooded, one booted leg swinging over the arm of his chair. Nicholas didn't think he was brooding over his luck at cards. "Why, he wondered yet again, was Richard so anxious? If Rosalind did stab him, as Richard claimed he'd seen in the vision, then why wasn't he raising a brandy glass?

It was a relief to leave the four of them behind the closed drawing room door.

"I wonder where Captain Jared is this fine night?" Rosalind said as they walked into the earl's bedchamber.

"He kept quiet and I can't say I blame him," Nicholas said.

They drew on cloaks over their clothes. "It might be quite cold in the Pale," Rosalind said as she tied the black velvet tips together.

Rosalind made certain there was always a good three feet between them even though they held hands. She didn't want to fall into the Pale with the both of them naked.

Nicholas said, "I feel bloody ridiculous, lying in bed, waiting. Waiting for what? How the devil will we get to the Pale? I have no flying carpet."

She shook her head. "We must be patient, and wait, no choice. Would you like me to sing to you?"

He sat up. "No, what I want is to see if you can now read the final pages of the Rules of the Pale."