Midsummer Magic (Magic Trilogy 1)

“Very well,” Otis said, and withdrew with all his dignity still intact. Hawk’s dignity was in tatters and he knew it. Suddenly he smiled, an evil smile.

“Come here, wife,” he said, very quietly.

Frances froze, her eyes widening. She didn’t move a muscle.

“I said to come here. Now.”

“No,” she said, backing up another step. “However, I will have tea with you now, if you wish.”

“Before I have tea, I wish to ... look more closely at my wife. Come here, Frances.”

She began to walk toward him, then at the last moment ducked away, and nearly ran from the room. He whirled about, but she was too fast. His hand caught air, not her arm.

“Frances!” he roared.

But she was gone. He heard the rustling of her skirts and the clicking of her slippers in the corridor.

He strode from the estate room toward the drawing room. He came to a disconcerted halt when he stepped into the room. Both Otis and Mrs. Jerkins were flanking his wife. He suddenly felt as though he’d stepped onto the stage of a very bad comedy. The blind fool of a husband, and he didn’t know his lines.

“My lord, welcome home,” said Mrs. Jerkins, a tight smile on her lips. “Tea is ready, my lord. Won’t you sit down?”

“If the general will dismiss her soldiers,” Hawk said acidly, and saw Frances stifle a smile.

She said in that damned calm voice that infuriated him to the point of insensibility, “Thank you, Otis, Mrs. Jerkins. I will serve his lordship,.”

Both old retainers took their blessed time leaving the drawing room. Otis didn’t close the doors. Hawk strode to the doors and pulled them closed with a snap.

He turned to see Frances calmly pouring tea. “The scones are quite tasty,” she said, all her concentration on the teacups. “Cook has got them just right. There is sweet strawberry jam I believe you will enjoy.”

“Frances, shut up.”

“Very well,” she said, not looking at him. As if she didn’t have a single bloody care in the world!

She simply stuck out the cup of tea in its saucer, and he took it, out of habit. He sat down opposite her, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He sipped the tea, getting a hold on himself. He said, “I didn’t want a beautiful, frivolous wife.”

“I know you didn’t. That is what I was on the point of telling you when Otis ... my general ... interrupted me. ”Had you had the courtesy to give me warning, I would have appeared as you ... expected.“

“You said you gave your clothes to the rector.”

“I lied.” She shook her head ruefully and his eyes were drawn to her quite beautiful ears with the soft tendrils of hair caressing them. “Well, I did lie, but not about that. I didn’t want to go back to the diffident dowd, as you called me. However, I would have preferred warning of your arrival. Then I should have thought about it quite diligently.”

“You will not put on those damned spectacles, ever again!”

“No, I shan’t. Poor Mrs. Jerkins believed I couldn’t read, for I truly was unable to see clearly with them perched on my nose.”

“As I said, I didn’t want your kind of wife.”

“My kind?” She arched a brow at him.

“You know damned well what I mean, Frances!”

“Oh yes, I guess I do. You didn’t want to be leg-shackled to a woman who would demand your time, your attention, indeed, venture to London with you and ruin all your ... pleasures. But I didn’t, my lord—venture to London and spoil all your pleasures, that is.”

“I detest liars and frauds.”

“And I detest conceited, arrogant, bullying idiots!” She rose jerkily to her feet and began pacing the room. Hawk’s eyes followed her progress. Very nice, trim ankles, he thought. Long, elegant legs. She whirled about to face him. “As I said, my lord, I know you didn’t, but I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

“So, your whole charade backfired on you, eh?”