“Are you telling me then, Miss Wilton, that you are a witch?” Adam asked.
“No, milord.” Her skin flamed in embarrassment and she rose from her seat, turning her back so that he could not see her shame. “I am not a witch.”
She forced herself to face him again as she spoke.
“‘Tis Mama who is a sorceress,” she said softly. “And she has placed the Wodesby seal of protection upon you. If Damien were here, there would be no need for concern. However, I fear that because of my mother’s present condition, the responsibility for your protection must now fall upon me.”
“You are going to protect me?” His incredulity was patent in both voice and expression. “How absolutely absurd!”
Despite Tante Reina’s frowns, Lord Brand’s chuckle built to a laugh and the laugh grew into a side-splitting roar. By the time his Uncle Lawrie found him and hauled him out to the carriage, the marquess was howling hard enough to do a banshee credit.
Chapter 5
“He laughed, Mama,” Miranda said as she picked up her embroidery from its resting place on the table by the window seat. Against the combined advice of herself, Dominick, Tante Reina, and Thorpe, Lady Wodesby had insisted upon being moved from her bedchamber to the sunnier morning room in the front of the house. Ensconced in a pile of pillows, with a bright blue turban upon her head, her mother made an exotic, if somewhat wan, appearance. Thorpe was still making his displeasure known, stalking back and forth in a pelter, with his fur ruffled. “When I told Lord Brand what it meant to be under Wodesby protection, he simply sat there and laughed until his sides were aching. Tante Reina was ready to wring his neck and by the Merlin, I was ready to let her do it.”
Lady Wodesby eased back into the mountain of cushions and gave a gurgle of laughter. “What I would not have given to be a fly on the wall, last night.”
“Do not even think of a transformation at this time, Mama,” Miranda said firmly, stabbing her needle into the cloth. “Not after what you did last night! To attempt a summoning hard upon the Weakness. When Damien hears of this!”
“Your brother will not hear of it from you, I presume.” her mother said, leaning forward sternly. “Or you, Thorpe.” She fixed the cat with an annoyed glare. “I find myself tiring of your hissing fits and when I think that I could have chosen a nice quiet toad for my companion, your tantrums become all the more wearisome. Now you may put your fur down, both of you. I did what I thought necessary and even Damien cannot gainsay me, for all that he is now Chief Mage of England.”
“I will keep my silence, Mama,” Miranda agreed, watching as Thorpe settled himself at her mother’s feet. “And so will your familiar, but only because we know that you will have more than enough on your dish when Damien returns. He will be livid, I am sure, even if we succeed in keeping him ignorant of the risk that you took in getting him here. You were far too weak to expend the energy to contact him across the Void.”
Thorpe meowed in agreement.
“To send for him when he is needed at Wellington’s side is bad enough, but to do so because you have placed our seal upon a man like Lord Brand?” Miranda continued, ignoring her mother’s frown. “I cannot fathom your purpose in putting him under Wodesby protection. Why would you wish to support a man who would like nothing better than to make you into a laughingstock? He mocks all you are, reviles all that we believe in.”
“To the contrary, my love. He would unmask the charlatans who trade upon magic, who defame us by preying on the gullible,” Lady Wodesby said. “Is that not a worthy goal?”
“If that is indeed his goal,” Miranda said, doubt in every syllable. “From what I see, he is bent on self-aggrandizement. While you slept this morning, I asked Dominick to see what he could discover about Lord Brand. What he has found is less than pleasing, you may be sure. Apparently, every servant in Town knows that Brand will pay for information. If milady or milord chooses to have a reading or a séance, it is worth the footman or maid’s while to make sure that Brand hears of it. Naturally, his lordship somehow wheedles his way into the ritual.”
“A difficulty to be sure, to read with a disbeliever present. But if one is truly Gifted, I see no harm to it,” Lady Wodesby allowed.
“No harm?” Miranda fumed. “All the mediums and card-readers in London are looking over their shoulders these days for fear that the marquess will defame them, not to mention the threat he poses to anyone who professes to have talents in finding, or dowsing, or reading the portents of the stars. Brand’s wager to expose Professor Gutmacher as a charlatan healer is the talk of London.” She jabbed at her embroidery before setting it aside with a sigh. “I thought initially that the marquess was beyond the common run, but he is no different from Lord Petersham and his snuff boxes for each day, or the Green Man, who dresses entirely in verdant color clothing. It would seem that magic is Lord Brand’s means of calling attention to himself.”
“You seem rather disappointed,” Lady Wodesby said, watching her daughter’s expression carefully.
“Disappointed? Why should I be disappointed, Mama? I have long ago learned to expect nothing from those people who style themselves the cream of society. It is the results of Lord Brand’s public affectations that disturb me,” Miranda said, trying to convince herself that her feelings were no more than just outrage. She chose a color from the basket of threads and tried to slip it through the eye of the needle, but her hand trembled. “With every false mage that he reveals, are there not fewer people who will put faith in magic at all? How many wise women are losing their custom to physicians, men who often kill more than they cure and then charge dearly for the privilege? Due to people like Brand and their mockery, May Day becomes nothing more than a chance for bawdy frolic. The old ways disappear, becoming no more than hollow ceremony.”
“And you blame Lord Brand for all that? My what a busy man he must be, to hear you speak he has singlehandedly destroyed the old worship,” her mother chuckled as she took the needle and thread from her daughter’s hand and handed it back ready to resume stitchery.
“How can you make light of this, Mama?” Miranda asked, taking up the needlework frame again. “After all that has been lost since King James began his witch hunt after the death of Elizabeth.”
Fire ignited in the core of Lady Wodesby’s jade eyes. “Do you dare think that I would be flippant about such matters? Your Great-grandmother LeFey very nearly went to the block and, were it not for a hefty bribe, would have been beheaded. But much as you might desire, you cannot turn back time to those days before the Great Persecution. It was not the halcyon era that you young ones wish to believe, though it might seem so. T’was not all virgins dancing round a Maypole.”
“I know that,” Miranda said. “It is just that things seemed so much simpler.”
“Seemed is the key word, my dear,” Lady Wodesby said, her tones softening. “King James might have been the igniting spark, but do not forget that it was we who built our own pyre. There were many who abused their Gifts, some who sought power and wealth through the darker side of our art. The Black Grimoire, with its instructions for human sacrifice and its violations of Nature’s covenants, is not the invention of a twisted fancy, but the receipt book for evil.”
“But so few have ever—" Miranda protested.
“A few were all that were needed, a few whose selfish actions sufficed to give the odor of truth to the calumnies that our enemies brought against us. Witchkind stood back and did not intervene to stop the corruption in our midst, as was our obligation. For that arrogance, we have paid dearly and many innocents perished with us. Remember that child. Remember that for the few who prostituted the Gift, others paid the price, some were men, but mostly it was women who suffered.”
“And their only crime was to be odd, or old and without protection,” Miranda said softly, knotting her thread and securing a stitch. “I know.”
“Aye, child, I am well aware of the extent of your knowledge,” Lady Wodesby said, pride in her voice. “B
ut do not be so quick to condemn a man who sees deceit and thinks to right it.”
“Lord Brand is wrongheaded and arrogant,” Miranda asserted, her needle flashing as it pierced the linen again.
“I have yet to meet a man worth knowing who does not sometimes exhibit those traits,” Lady Wodesby said.
“Martin is never arrogant and I have never known him to be the least bit stubborn,” Miranda said.
“You prove my point, my love,” Lady Wodesby said with a gentle laugh. “But let us not speak of Martin when there are more important matters to discuss. Will he or nil he, Lord Brand is under the shield of Wodesby protection. However, in my present condition, my capabilities are limited. Until Damien arrives, we must contrive some means of keeping Lawrie’s nephew under safeguard. Perhaps a warding spell . . .”
“No!” Miranda said firmly. “You will not even charm so much as a wart, Mama. I have taken the liberty of putting your Tarot away for safekeeping and after last night, I sincerely doubt that you could even begin to try a cardless reading again. So we are safe on that score.”
Lady Wodesby nearly exploded in fury. “How did you dare do such a deed? You will return my cards, young lady, at once! There are portents that must be probed immediately.”
“So, Thorpe was correct in his assessment,” Miranda said, catching an ‘I told you so’ look in the cat’s eye. “This morning he was entirely certain that you would seek to scry the signs and be entirely heedless of your well-being. How could you be so foolish?”
Lady Wodesby’s eyes narrowed as she regarded Thorpe with a look of disgust. “‘Choose a toad,’ my Mother told me, ‘they are mild, compliant, unobtrusive creatures who cause no trouble. Cats are the most capricious and devious of familiars.’ But did I listen, fool that I was?” her Mama muttered between clenched teeth, “I elected to befriend a furry turncoat.”
The cat quietly padded to the fireplace, his look of feline amusement doing little to calm his mistress’s temper.
“I assure you, that my thoughts were galloping along the same road as Thorpe’s,” Miranda said, taking a deep breath; better for the bombs to burst all at once. Her mother might as well know the full measure of her family’s perfidy. “However, I also removed your athame, herbs, and talismans for safekeeping before the Tarot occurred to me.”
“What is more bitter to a mother’s heart than a disobedient child?” A single tear trickled down Lady Wodesby’s cheek. “It was a sore trial to raise you children without your Papa’s firm guidance. I am certain that your father if he is watching from beyond the veil, is quite incensed.”
“If he is still the same as the Peter who walked this earth, your man is applauding your daughter for her cleverness, Adrienne,” Tante Reina said, entering with a luncheon tray and setting it down on the table. “Drury Lane tears, child, pay them no heed. Even as a child, your Mama was like this. When she could not get her way through tantrums, weeping was always the next tactic.”
Thorpe meowed in concurrence.
“Everyone is against me,” Lady Wodesby sniffed. “There is danger afoot, I tell you and you all deny me the tools I need to find its source.”
“Pah,” the Gypsy woman exclaimed. “Do you think you do your daughter any service if, in your Weakness, you lose yourself in the Great Void? You violate the Second Rule: The Force of the Mind must be greater than the Nil of the Void. From what Thorpe told me, he could barely keep you from slipping from the Nil to the Realm of Darkness last night.”
Miranda gasped. There was no return from the Dark Realm, the connection between body and mind was permanently severed, leaving no more than a breathing husk behind.
“As usual, Thorpe says entirely too much,” she snapped.
“You rest, Lady,” Tante Reina said, her tones soothing. “Soon, soon, your strength returns and then we will give you back your things.”
“I am not a child,” Lady Wodesby said, petulantly.
“Then stop acting as one,” the Gypsy replied, picking up the bowl and handing a spoon to Miranda’s mother. “Eat your broth.”
“And what are you smirking at?” Lady Wodesby eyed her daughter.
Miranda sucked in her cheeks and gazed intently at the crooked line of her stitchery. “Smirking? I?” she said, trying to contain a gurgle of laughter.
“There is no place for levity. If I can neither determine the source of the threat nor place a spell of protection, then we are hamstrung until Damien comes home. This is a most serious situation, Miranda Ariel.”
The use of Miranda’s middle name was sobering. “What do you suggest, Mama?” she asked.
“Vigilance is the key. We must somehow keep a constant watch on Lord Brand.”
Thorpe rumbled deep in his throat.
“I suppose you could follow his lordship,” Lady Wodesby said. “‘Tis true that you are quite adept at getting about unremarked.”
The tom purred.
“Yes, I admit that is so,” Lady Wodesby concurred, “a cat may go where no toad could. But a feline would not be welcome in a ballroom or a drawing room. I suppose Miranda, that I must leave you in full charge of Lord Brand’s safekeeping until I am more myself.”
“But Mama,” Miranda protested, “I told him that the task would fall to me, and he thought the very idea ridiculous. And now that I think upon it, I suppose that I cannot truly blame him, after all, I am no mage.”
“Perhaps not, but you are clever and an excellent hand with a pistol or knife,” Lady Wodesby pointed out. “All the enchantment in the world is not proof against a keen mind, a sharp blade or a bullet fashioned of iron. As any witchling knows, magic is useless against iron.”
“Cold iron?” Miranda stood, aghast. “You would actually wish me to use iron against another witch?”
“If it is magic that presents the hazard, then we face a rogue among us, one who might bring persecution upon us all. If the jeopardy is posed by an ordinary mortal,” she shrugged, “iron works as well as lead. However, if I could just peek at my Tarot, just the Minor Arcana, I could find out.”
“No!” Miranda and Tante Reina and a hissing Thorpe chorused.
Lady Wodesby made a moue of irritation, but said nothing as Tante Reina pressed food upon her. Though her mother could feed herself, Miranda noticed a betraying tremor as the spoon rose and knew that the lady was far more frail than she would have them believe. Miranda was about to insist that the older woman retire when Dominick entered the room.
“Lady, there is a visitor,” Dominick said, presenting a salver with a card. “Shall I tell her you are too ill to receive?”
Lady Wodesby looked at the piece of pasteboard thoughtfully. “Hester, hoping, no doubt, to find me on my deathbed as a dramatic denouement to last night’s debacle. Tell her that I will see her, Dominick.”
Miranda made an exasperated noise and moved to bar the door. “Why in the world would you wish to see her, Mama? ‘Tis she who is the cause of all this. Unless . . .” Her eyes narrowed in speculation. “Unless you intend to place a curse on her.”
Lady Wodesby waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense, Hester was nothing more than a pawn of fate. There is no cause for a curse. Besides, you did taste the food last night, did you not?”
“It was horrible, except for the sweets,” Miranda said, “but what has that to do with the matter?”
“‘Tis quite obvious that Hester is already under a malediction of the most devious kind, denying her real nourishment, yet causing her to grow as corpulent as a crock. Any bane that I might lay would be as gilt to the lily,” Lady Wodesby said. “But I must see Hester, my dear. If I refuse to receive her, she will noise it about that I am at Pluto’s door. If there are magical enemies abroad, they must not become aware of my present condition of weakness.”
Reluctantly, Miranda stepped out of Dominick’s way. Tante Reina gave a disapproving shake of her head, but made no comment as she whisked the tray away. Miranda returned to her seat in the corner window.
“Adrienne
, you poor dear!” Lady Enderby bustled in, her stentorian greeting echoing in the room as she squeezed her bulk into a delicate Chippendale chair near Lady Wodesby. “I am absolutely riddled with remorse. To see you laid low and it is entirely my fault.”
“Nonsense, Hester,” Lady Wodesby said. “The onus is upon me. I should never have succumbed to the temptation of attending your gathering so close upon a long carriage ride. I had forgotten how terribly fatiguing travel may be. That is why I usually prefer to stay close to home.”
“Lord Brand and Mr. Timmons, Lady,” Dominick intoned, presenting their cards.
“Show them in, if you please,” Lady Wodesby commanded, disregarding her daughter’s frown.
To Miranda’s irritation, the marquess ignored the chairs at the opposite end of the room near Lady Enderby and took himself to a seat near Miranda’s window, picking up her needlework and examining it critically.
“Not dead yet, but mortally wounded,” Lord Brand said in an undertone. “Unusual that a woman so deft with a coin would be so clumsy with a needle.”
“How kind of you to say so, Lord Brand,” Miranda remarked, pulling the frame none too gently from his hand. “Unfortunately, ‘tis far easier to make guineas disappear than people.”
“I take it that you are requesting that I vanish, Miss Wilton?”
“Take it as you choose, milord,” Miranda replied, pasting a smile on her face for the sake of appearances. “After last night, I am surprised that you have the audacity to show your face here.”
“I owe you thirty guineas; a gentleman always pays his debts of honor.” Adam said, pulling a small pouch from his pocket. “You wagered thirty guineas that you knew Barone’s methods. You won.”
“I do not want your money, Lord Brand,” she whispered. “Thirty pieces of gold or silver, for that matter. You know full well I would never have revealed the conjuror’s secret to you had I known what you were about.”
“I must confess to being astounded, Adrienne,” Lawrence said, his brow furrowed in concern as he seated himself beside her. “Are you certain that it is wise to be about so soon?”
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