A Basket of Wishes

by Rebecca Paisley

  “Fire,” Harmony said. “You must think fire, for anger burns through one much like flames.”

  “Fire,” Splendor whispered.

  “Try it now.”

  “But I’ve no one to become angry at.”

  “You have me.”

  “But you’ve done naught to make me angry.”

  “You’re right. Well, I’ll think of something to anger you with later. For now, let us chat, shall we? Actually, there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Something I think it only fair for you to know.”

  “And what is that, sister?”

  Harmony smiled. “I’m going to take the Trinity away from you, Splendor. I’ve never had a human for my own and, as much as I hate the creatures, I still want one. And I’ve chosen the Trinity. I’ll allow him to get you with child and all that, but he will be mine, not yours. I’m going to keep him in a bottle in my room and feed him gnats.”

  Splendor’s first impulse was to submit to the peaceful refuge of her mist, but she stubbornly fought the temptation. “I will nay allow—”

  “I do not recall asking your permission, sister. The Trinity will be mine, make no mistake about it.”

  Although the room was chilly, Splendor began to feel warm. Not outwardly, but inside. And the warmth steadily grew in intensity until she felt hot. Very hot.

  As if she were on fire.

  “Nay, Harmony,” she said, hearing her own voice simmer.

  “Aye, Splendor,” Harmony taunted. “Mine, mine, mine. The Trinity is mine!”

  “Nay!” Splendor shouted as loudly as her lungs would allow. “If I catch you anywhere near him, Harmony, I’ll—I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Harmony pressed.

  “I’ll put you in an iron box!”

  The very mention of the word iron caused Harmony to shrink to Pillywiggin size. Several minutes passed before she recovered from her fear. “That was fine, Splendor. But you wouldn’t really put me in iron box, would you?”

  Instantly Splendor regretted her terrible threat. “Oh, Harmony, no! I would never do such a thing! Surely you know that I would never hurt my own sister! Surely you know that I—”

  “All right, all right, you don’t have to overdo it. But why did you threaten me with iron?”

  Splendor wrung her hands in her hair and fought back tears. “You must forgive me. I was worried. Supremely upset. You said you were going to take Jourdian away from me, and I—”

  “I know what I said, but I didn’t mean it. And it didn’t look to me that you were merely worried, Splendor. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were angry. At the very least, you were immensely irritated. And this is only your first lesson in anger, so immense irritation is a good start. With a little more practice you should be able to heat that irritation into true fury.”

  Splendor recalled the hot feeling she’d experienced when she thought her sister planned to steal Jourdian, put him in a bottle, and feed him bugs. “Oh, Harmony, you taught me so quickly.”

  Harmony flew toward her sister and alighted upon Splendor’s shoulder. “I am an expert at ire. A genius with wrath. The leading connoisseur of hostility. A veritable virtuoso at rage.”

  Splendor removed her sister from her shoulder and held Harmony in her hand. With her pinkie finger, she stroked Harmony’s tiny cheek. “You are teaching me anger, dear sister, and so I shall teach you kindness and gentleness. I shall instruct you in the art of generosity and—”

  “Satan save me, I think I’m going to be sick.”

  And right before Splendor’s eyes, Harmony turned herself into a rock and pitched herself through the sparkling window.

  “She’s done naught but read since the duke left Tuesday last, Mr. Tate,” Ulmstead said, standing in front of one of the duke’s office windows with Emil, Mrs. Frawley, and Tessie. He paused a moment to calm the squirming chipmunk he’d discovered in a closet and now held in his hands. “An entire week of reading nothing but Shakespeare.”

  Emil pulled back the velvet draperies and peered through the glass. There in one of the estate gardens was Splendor. Sitting in a mass of ground ivy and the fiery pool of her hair, she was bent over the thick book in her lap. “What’s that black garment she’s wearing?”

  “Another of His Grace’s dressing robes,” Tessie replied, she, too, watching Splendor through the big window.

  “She looks as if she’s in mourning,” Emil said. “Doesn’t she have anything else to wear?”

  “She spilled cream on the purple robe, sir,” Mrs. Frawley said. “And I was able to talk her out of wearing any more of His Grace’s shirts.”

  Emil frowned. “She’s been here for almost two weeks, and still has nothing to wear. I thought some gowns had been made for her.”

  Mrs. Frawley sighed. “She can’t abide the fussy adornments on any of the gowns the Mallencroft seamstress has delivered. The lady returned for them two days ago and promised to bring back plainer dresses. It would seem the duchess has simple tastes.”

  “And much pride and courage,” Ulmstead added. “Another bride might have wept for days upon the abrupt departure of her groom, but not Her Grace. She’s putting on a good show of contentment, smiling, laughing… I even heard her singing yesterday. And a lovely voice she has, too.”

  “But it’s only a show, mind you,” Mrs. Frawley declared. “The poor lass is hiding a broken heart, you can be sure of that. No woman could accept her husband’s abandonment without a bit of grief. Especially Her Grace. She truly cares about the duke. Why, she told me herself that the reason she’s been poring over Shakespeare’s works is because His Grace told her he enjoyed the stories. I imagine she hopes to impress him with the fact that she’s read his favorite books.”

  Emil watched Splendor turn a page in her book, but knew there was little chance of her impressing his cousin with a bloody thing if Jourdian didn’t come home from wherever the blazes he’d gone off to.

  Damn the man. Not only was he the richest, most powerful aristocrat in England but he also possessed a wife almost too beautiful to believe. Hundreds… No, thousands of men would envy him.

  And what did the misbegotten cad do? “Leave,” Emil thought out loud. “He just mounted his horse and left. Without as much as a fare-thee-well.”

  “You’ve found no leads to his whereabouts then, Mr. Tate?” Tessie asked.

  “No, but I’m wondering if he might have gone to Briarmont.”

  Ulmstead thought about Briarmont. Another of the duke’s four country estates, it was but half a day’s ride from London. “Will you look for him there, sir?”

  “I will if he doesn’t come home soon. But I hesitate to begin an extensive investigation for fear the whole countryside will learn that Jourdian left his bride the day after their wedding. Lord knows someone must protect them from yet more vicious gossip.”

  “A wise and loving decision you’ve made,” Mrs. Frawley said. “His Grace is blessed with you for a cousin, Mr. Tate. And one day you’ll make some sweet young girl a fine husband. A fine one, indeed.”

  Emil smiled a crooked smile. “I’ll see Jourdian settled first, thank you very much.”

  The foursome watched Splendor for a while longer before Emil spoke again. “You’re more than likely right about her, Mrs. Frawley. Even as we watch her, I bet she’s memorizing Shakespearean lines she can quote to impress Jourdian.”

  “Has my office become spy headquarters?” a deep voice asked from across the room.

  Emil and the three servants turned from the window and saw Jourdian standing on the threshold.

  “Your Grace,” Ulmstead, Mrs. Frawley, and Tessie greeted him in unison.

  “When I arrived there was no one to meet me at the door,” Jourdian said. “Now I find my butler, housekeeper, and upstairs maid staring out of a window. Am I to understand that the three of you have forgotten your duties during my absence?”

  “No, Your Grace,” Mrs. Frawley quickly replied. “We were only watching Her Grace—”
r />   “They’re concerned about Splendor,” Emil interjected hotly.

  “And spying on her from my office window will calm their worries,” Jourdian answered sarcastically. He glanced at the three pale-faced domestics. “You are dismissed.”

  They hurried out of the room.

  “Where the devil have you been for the past week?” Emil demanded.

  Jourdian strode toward the liquor cabinet and poured himself a liberal portion of brandy. “Briarmont.”

  “I thought as much. If you hadn’t come home, I was going to go drag you back.”

  Jourdian chose to ignore that particular tongue lashing. “I went to Briarmont to finish the paperwork concerning the Gloucester orchards,” he lied. The Gloucester papers, he thought. God, he hadn’t seen them, much less worked on them, in over a week.

  “You’ve got more on your plate than your damned investments now, Jourdian. You’ve got a duchess to see to, and you could have finished your perishing paperwork here at Heathcourte.”

  “My house has become a circus.”

  “How dare you leave Splendor for an entire week!”

  “She must accustom herself to my absences. I’m gone often, as you well know.”

  “But you left her the day after your wedding.”

  Jourdian took a long swallow of brandy. “A wedding that was forced on me.”

  “You’re a cad.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  Emil walked away from the window and stopped in front of his cousin. “Splendor has been reading Shakespeare all week because you told her you enjoyed the plays. It’s likely she’s trying to memorize lines with which to impress you.”

  “Then I must act duly impressed when she recites them, mustn’t I? I’ll applaud.”

  “She’s trying to make you happy.”

  Jourdian drank the rest of his brandy.

  “You’re afraid,” Emil announced. “If you allow your feelings for Splendor to continue to grow, you might turn out like your father, isn’t that right, Jourdian? In your mind, Barrington’s love for Isabel was the man’s downfall.”

  “Emil—”

  “You’re going to hurt Splendor.”

  “Splendor is not your concern.”

  “Someone must watch out for her feelings.”

  Jourdian slammed his glass on the liquor cabinet. “Your easy camaraderie with Splendor doesn’t sit well with me. Stay away from her.”

  “You won’t be her companion, but you won’t allow anyone else to keep her company either, is that it? You’ll keep her here at Heathcourte the way one would keep a porcelain doll behind glass. You’ll glance at her every now and again, but other than that, you’ll do everything you know how to do to pretend she doesn’t exist.”

  Jourdian strode to his desk and sat down. “I never said I forgot her while I was at Briarmont.”

  “You missed her?”

  “I wondered what new manner of trouble she was causing in my absence and what I would be forced to do to repair the problems.”

  “You’re a—”

  “Cad,” Jourdian supplied.

  Emil marched to the door.

  “Where are you for?” Jourdian called.

  Slowly, Emil turned and glared at his cousin. “I’m going to be with Splendor. You already believe the worst about my relationship with her, so it will do me no harm to give credence to what you believe. Stay here in your bloody office, poring over your bloody papers, and I’ll go charm your lovely wife. She sits in the ivy garden right outside this room. Cheery-bye.” Quickly, Emil left the room and raced down the hall. In the entryway of the mansion he opened and slammed the door, but didn’t exit. Instead, he hid behind a marble pillar, and waited.

  Seconds later, Jourdian stalked into the foyer and stormed outside.

  Emil smiled.

  Jourdian proceeded around the outside of the house toward the ivy garden, sure he would find his cousin flirting with Splendor. It occurred to him that he was again acting the part of the jealous husband that Emil had accused him of portraying at the wedding, but in the next moment he dismissed that possibility.

  He was simply protecting what belonged to him. Emil could go out and get his own wife, damn it all. The duchess of Heathcourte would not be touched or ogled by any man but her husband!

  Shortly, he arrived at the ivy garden, but Splendor and Emil weren’t there. Thinking they’d gone for a stroll, he began to search for them. Vast though the grounds were, no small area escaped his scrutiny. Finally, after well over an hour, he spotted Splendor near the forest. Book in hand, she was alone.

  He stopped to watch her.

  A swift autumn breeze teased her long, flowing hair and picked up the black satin folds of the dressing gown she wore. She seemed to float, for no sound did she make as she walked along the edge of the glade.

  Jourdian knew he’d never seen a more graceful woman than she.

  He pondered his trip to Briarmont. He’d ridden across the miles as if every fiend in hell were trying to catch and drag him into the perpetual fires of damnation. But swift though Magnus was, the stallion could not outdistance his master’s demons. The devils caught up with Jourdian at Briarmont, reawakening his rage over Splendor’s request for love, and kindling his guilt for leaving her only hours after their wedding night.

  Why had he thought about her every moment he was away? Was it because almost every leaf he saw reminded him of her autumn-kissed hair? Because every delicate cloud in the sky brought to mind her pearly skin? Because every soft sound of nature he heard prompted the memory of her innocence?

  Or was it because he missed the way she made him smile and laugh? He hadn’t smiled once since he’d left her, much less laughed. In truth, he’d been utterly lonesome at Briarmont, and many times during his stay there the memory of her sweet chatter sang through his mind.

  Jourdian continued to watch her. A small thorny plant caught the skirt of her robe as she strolled, pulling the garment away from her long, slender legs.

  He remembered how those gorgeous legs felt wrapped around his waist.

  Lust, he mused. Perhaps he’d thought about Splendor and come home to her because she remained a fire in his blood he hadn’t yet quenched. Even now, as he watched her meander near the forest, desire for her burned through him.

  He would bed her today, he decided. Now, as soon as he could get her into his bedroom. And if she dared to mention love again, he would make his feelings on the subject clear to her immediately.

  He started to call to her then, but stopped when she paused beside a large tree, laid her book down, and curled her arms around the thick, rough tree trunk. It looked to Jourdian as though she were embracing the tree.

  She looked up into the tree branches and lifted her hand. A tiny yellow bird with a bit of twig in its beak fluttered down and landed in the palm of her hand. Another bird, a red one, swooped down and alighted atop her head.

  She laughed then, and the sound of her laughter sang through Jourdian’s senses. Enchanted, he watched as she reached for the red bird on her head and brought the creature close to her face. It rubbed its soft head against her chin and chirped merrily when she caressed its feathered belly.

  “Look there,” Jourdian heard her say. “We’ve another friend here now.”

  Astonished, Jourdian saw a doe come out of the woods. He saw Splendor kneel on the leaf-strewn forest floor, and the lissome deer walked straight into her open arms. The birds still in her hands, she embraced the doe’s slender neck, and she laughed again, gently, and with such absolute contentment that Jourdian smiled.

  “Splendor,” he called softly.

  The birds sailed back into the trees, and the deer bounded back into the woods.

  Slowly, Splendor turned and looked behind her.

  There stood Jourdian, late afternoon sunshine dancing through the waves of his ebony hair. He wore a tight pair of riding breeches that clung to every ripple and bulge in his lower torso, and his long-sleeved ivory shirt was unbutton
ed at the top, revealing a V-shaped portion of his muscular chest.

  Hunger for him assailed her, and now she knew exactly what she hungered for. “Let us go to the bedroom, shall we, Jourdian?”

  Her question pleased him enormously. Innocent though she was, she possessed a simmering passion just waiting to be ignited. “No ‘hello, husband’ first?’” he teased her.

  “Hello, husband.” She smiled.

  The brilliance of her grin fairly blinded him.

  “Why did you leave me, Jourdian? I missed you supremely.” He shuffled his feet in the grass, then stopped himself. What had he to feel bad over? He could go wherever he pleased, whenever he pleased, and Splendor would have no say so over the matter! “I had some business to attend to. And you would do well to accustom yourself to my traveling.”

  “I shall accompany you when next you leave. But you would do well to understand that I believe you work overly much. Sadly, however, you do not know how to play.”

  He changed the subject. “I saw you with the animals,” he said, walking toward her. “I’ve never seen anyone entice birds from the trees and deer from the forest. The creatures showed no fear of you at all. Wild animals. Unafraid.”

  When he stood in front of her, she laid her hands on his shoulders. “I told you that ’tisn’t my practice to frighten. The birds and the doe hadn’t cause to fear me, for they knew I’d nay harm them.”

  Jourdian picked up a thick lock of her hair and watched the vibrant strands slip over his fingers like red satin ribbons. “And how did they know not to fear you?”

  “Because they are animals. And animals have the gift of sensing who will hurt them and who will not.”

  “The animals fled at my approach.”

  “’Tis something for you to ponder in times of solitude.” Jourdian couldn’t suppress yet another smile. “Touchy.” He glanced into the woods. “Can you bring the animals back?”

  “Aye.” She faced the shadowed forest again and made cooing sounds.