Chemistry of Magic

by Patricia Rice

  She didn’t know if she could put off her father’s demands that she return for the next season.

  “Or Lord Baldwin’s?” Phoebe asked excitedly. “A spring wedding, just in time for my come-out would be wonderful!”

  Phoebe was only seventeen. A shorter, plumper version of her older sisters, she was sweeter-natured but more impetuous.

  “It won’t happen,” Lydia said in boredom. “You’d do better to expect mine.”

  “Your betrothed will surely be home by spring,” Aurelia said reassuringly, trying to follow her sisters’ chatter while the din of a hundred voices buzzed in her head. “Do you have your music prepared for the musicale this evening? Lady Bennet has such a lovely voice!”

  “You won’t even be there to listen!” Both her sisters glared at her. Accustomed to her behavior, though, they did not waste time bothering her again with questions she didn’t hear or wouldn’t answer.

  “We waited until father and Rain were both in London to arrange this entertainment,” Lydia continued, her anger overriding the outside chatter. “We brought in all the eligible young men you haven’t rejected, the ones whom they would not invite. And you still cannot decide?”

  “I don’t hear them,” Aurelia cried plaintively, hugging a pillow. “How can I marry someone I cannot hear?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, that’s a benefit, not a detriment. We made sure they were all handsome. All you need do is look at them,” Phoebe said with a hint of desperation. “How will I ever compete with you next Season if you’re not taken?”

  “You won’t,” Lydia said. “None of us can. We’ll have to put a sack over her head.”

  “Or beans in my ears,” Aurelia said with a sigh. “Cook is threatening to knife someone again. Will one of you please calm troubled waters this time? I really don’t want to push Lord Rush down the stairs. He’s hovering on the landing.”

  Again, they didn’t question her irrelevant response as everyone outside the family did. She hoped someday, when she was a maiden aunt, that they would come to accept her inability to deal with the world at large. Had she been a medieval lady, they could have bought her a place in a nunnery and gone on with their lives. As it was, she was perfectly useless and an obstacle to everyone’s happiness.

  “I’ll go, if I can borrow your earrings for this evening.” Lydia turned her head back and forth to admire the flash and sparkle.

  “By all means.” Remembering Lord Clayton’s unusual behavior, Aurelia added, “Phoebe, go with her. Some of the guests have been a little unruly in Rain’s absence. We’d best go everywhere in pairs.”

  That, of course, excited her sisters’ lust for excitement. They left, chattering, completely confident that they were safe in their father’s sheltered household surrounded by servants.

  Aurelia wished she could be as blissfully ignorant. But she’d heard and suffered the result of neglect and violence and no longer pretended the world was a safe place.

  As if her gloomy thoughts had taken on a life of their own, a distant cry, almost a childish wail, pierced the normal cacophony in her head. There were no children in the house. Even her younger brother Teddy was away at school.

  Aurelia hummed, hoping to drown out the various noises so she might dress for dinner.

  But by the time the musicale was ready to start, all she could hear was the child’s terrified weeping. She could not think, could barely breathe with the anguish overwhelming all the more pleasant noises buzzing through the halls.

  She might disregard adult arguments and avoid normal conversation by humming to herself, but she had never been able to ignore a terrified child. But neither could she go out into the world on her own. The daughters of a duke had the need for accompaniment drummed into their very souls from birth—especially in this tragic household. That meant dragging footmen and maid into the cold damp night on a fool’s errand when they’d anticipated a pleasant evening of music. There was no surety that she could find the child or that she did not imagine it entirely, as everyone would assume.

  And then she remembered Mr. Madden coming to her rescue this afternoon.

  Will scratched the heads of a few hounds, checked the kennel’s water supply, and secured the gate. Moonlight peered from behind the clouds, lighting the grounds sufficiently to find his way back to the stable. Preferring the simplicity of animals to people, he enjoyed the late hours when no one was about. He’d have to take Ajax on a nighttime patrol soon. The mastiff was still young, though. He wouldn’t rush her training.

  He favored Castle Yates over his other places of employment or the grandiose home where his half-brothers resided. He’d been born and partially raised in Yatesdale. He was comfortable here, where people didn’t expect him to be more than Maeve’s bastard son. He had no inclination for science or politics as his brothers did. He didn’t need the city. The land he meant to buy once he’d earned the duke’s coin was in a peaceful valley of the Cotswolds, where he’d never have to wear a tailored coat or read a book again.

  The sprawling ducal castle and its occupants were as complex as London and politics as far as he was concerned, but he could appreciate them from a distance. Lights flickered in half the windows. Music poured from an upstairs gallery. He listened to the notes blending with the sleepy calls of birds and crickets. Perhaps, when he had his own place, he’d learn to make music. Or find a wife who could play.

  Thoughts of a wife made him restless. Now that his brothers were almost all married, it was time to find a woman of his own. Or quit coming to Yates where he was reminded daily of what he wanted and couldn’t have. For many good reasons, he didn’t dally with the women of the village any more than the ladies in the castle.

  He was about to reconsider working off his excess energy by taking Ajax on a patrol of the grounds when he noticed a cloaked form racing toward him.

  What the devil? There was no mistaking her slight figure. Even should there be a maid of the same size, she wouldn’t have been wearing a fur-trimmed cloak. For good reason, his grace’s daughters never went out without escort, and this was twice in one day that the addlebrained lady had risked her person.

  Pulse pounding, Will hastened to put himself between her and any danger. He’d lived here half his life and never spoken a word to the duke’s reclusive daughter. Twice in one day signified a change in the universe as he knew it, and he tried to maintain his usual composure. Difficult, he admitted, knowing the most-sought-after heiress in the kingdom roamed loose in his territory.

  “Mr. Madden,” Lady Aurelia cried when he stepped into her path. “Thank goodness. There is a child lost in the woods. I hear her cries, but I cannot understand what she is saying.” She continued toward the stable, expecting him to follow.

  Had she been anyone else, he would no doubt have balked without further enlightenment. But Lady Aurelia’s daunting beauty concealed the fact that she wasn’t entirely right in the head. She required all the security the duke could surround her with—and maybe some extra brains.

  Following her, he listened to the night sounds, but if there was a child crying, he couldn’t hear it. “Children cry,” he said, searching for a thin thread of reason.

  “Not like this.” Impatiently, she tugged at the stable door that had been closed up for the night.

  Ever aware of his size, Will knew he could fling the witless lady over his shoulder and haul her back to the house and to the people who ought to be guarding her. He feared she might break if he tried. Alternatively, he could let her tug at the bolted door for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, his mother had taught him better than that.

  “Go back to the house. I’ll fetch the dogs,” he said, hoping she might have a rare episode of reason and agree.

  “Excellent idea. I’ll fetch Ajax, if you’ll saddle the horses.”

  So, she heard only what she wanted to hear. Women were like that, especially women of this particular family.

  Will saw no sense in arguing. In her eyes, he was a mere servant,
and his duty was to obey her commands. He’d been thinking of walking out anyway. Might as well go for a ride with a madwoman. He grabbed the heavy bar, hauled it back, and heaved open one of the long doors.

  Unwilling to disturb the grooms who had settled in for the evening, he threw saddles on a couple of the calmer mounts in the duke’s extensive stable and led them out. The lady was waiting with Ajax already leashed.

  “Shouldn’t you have one of your sisters with you?” he asked, attempting a degree of sanity.

  “They only make noise,” she said, not exactly addressing the question. “It’s quieter this way, and I can hear better.”

  Malcolm madness. He’d seen his brothers deal with their insane women. This one wasn’t his and never would be, so he didn’t have to listen. But he needed the duke’s approval, and he’d lose it if he learned Will had let his daughter go out alone.

  “You’ll explain this to your father if he objects?” he demanded, cupping his hands and lifting her into the sidesaddle. She was so light, he feared flipping her over the horse’s back.

  He liked his women heavy and substantial, he reminded himself. He was a big man and needed a big woman. Just because this fairy-like female fascinated him didn’t mean he should see her as more than his employer’s daughter.

  She seemed momentarily startled at his assistance. Freezing, as if suddenly realizing the foolishness of this escapade, she glanced back at the lighted house spilling music.

  And then she glanced down at him with what appeared to be a frown. “I can’t hear the child if I’m surrounded by noise. You’re oddly quiet.”

  Will snorted. Still not the answer he wanted. “Annoyingly silent is the usual epithet I hear.” He checked the girth and unleashed the dog. “Ajax has learned to heel. Let’s see how she does.”

  “The child sounds so terrified,” the lady murmured in despair, again not responding to his words. “How will we ever find her? I have no idea how close she might be.”

  Was the lady deaf to him while she listened to otherworldly voices? He was mad as she for not hauling her back to the house and letting them lock her up, where she belonged. Unfortunately, he had a little more experience than most at being outside the ordinary, and he couldn’t deny her plea. Or that was his excuse anyway.

  “Ajax has better hearing than I do. Let’s see if he can pick up the sound.” Linking his mind to the dog’s, Will tried to hear what Ajax did.

  He still couldn’t discern any cry, but Ajax obviously had a scent she was eager to track. With no better guide, Will sent the dog off to follow her instinct.

  Tongue lolling, the mastiff took off in the direction of the untamed wilderness beyond the duke’s manicured landscaping. The lady trotted after him as if riding out at night, alone, was the most natural event in the world. Having seen her ride these hills since childhood—in company with family and grooms—Will had no doubt she could handle the steed. His concern was returning her safely to her home before anyone came looking for them.

  The lady rode silently, allowing him to stay connected with the dog. The sure-footed horses found paths around rocks and scree, carrying them downhill and into the gloom of the cliffs below. Will cursed himself for being so distracted that he had not thought to carry a lantern. Even the moonlight vanished in the shadows beneath towering boulders. Ajax whimpered and dashed off down an animal trail. Will lost visual sight of him but kept the mental connection. Keeping his ears open, he tried to hear a child’s cry but didn’t.

  The craggy moor appeared untouched since the beginnings of time. Tumbling rock, rough grasslands, bogs, and worse were unsuited for human habitation. Miles from the village, cut off from other farms by the duke’s vast estate, the steep hillsides were no easy hike from anywhere. He would dismiss Aurelia’s fears as hallucination—except Ajax was definitely following an unidentified scent.

  “I hear her,” Aurelia whispered anxiously, as if sensing his doubt. “How would a child ever find their way down here?”

  “The same way you hear her perhaps,” he said dryly.

  “Inexplicably,” she retorted, proving she could listen when she wished.

  A rabbit darted from behind a rock. His horse shied, and Will heard Ajax’s yip of excitement. If the damned dog was following a rabbit. . . He couldn’t complain. He was rather enjoying this break in his dull routine.

  He winced at that wayward thought. He’d chosen his simple path for good reasons—one of them being that he wanted freedom from society’s unreasonable restrictions and lack of understanding.

  He focused on the dog’s mind—an interesting place of smells and sounds.

  The dog’s kaleidoscopic thoughts didn’t project a rabbit but a patch of thick ferns and the stench of wet fur.

  Will still heard no child, but he gathered that Ajax had found an animal, one that was alive but not moving. He held up his hand to halt the lady and swung down.

  “She’s not here,” Lady Aurelia argued. “We’re closer though.”

  “Let me see what Ajax has found.” He couldn’t abide to leave hurt animals suffering, and that was the sense he was receiving. He crept up to where the mastiff lay down, tail wagging, nose sniffing.

  Among the frost-bitten ferns lay a bedraggled spot of dirty brown and white, wriggling pathetically. Will crouched down, removed his glove, and held out his hand for the creature to sniff. It did so eagerly, proving it was accustomed to human handling.

  “What have you found?” Lady Aurelia asked, keeping her voice low.

  Will scooped up the shivering terrier pup, stroking its bristly coat and searching for injury. He thought he found blood, and the rear leg appeared hurt. That was a discovery he would not relate to the worried lady, but it raised his hackles. This was a pampered puppy, not an animal accustomed to roaming wild. Damage like this usually happened from human brutality.

  “A puppy. She may be injured.” He held up the creature in the palm of his ungloved hand to show her.

  “The child may be crying for her dog!” she exclaimed.

  Will thought he might almost follow the path of that thought.

  She reached for the bedraggled creature. “She’s small enough to fit in my pocket. Will that keep her warm enough for now?”

  He would rather take the dog back to the house to tend it than chase after unseen, unheard children at the insane demand of a woman who heard what others did not. But the presence of a pampered puppy asked questions he couldn’t answer.

  He fed the puppy from the treats in his pocket and let the terrier sniff the lady’s much sweeter smelling hands. It scrambled eagerly to reach her. She cuddled him in her lap, stroking him into calmness. “A child’s pet?”

  “Possibly,” he said gruffly, climbing back into the saddle. Quelling his resistance to tamper with a strange dog’s mind, he probed until he saw the puppy’s scrambled, page-flipping thoughts.

  He might not read textbooks with fluency, but he could grab scenes from a dog’s mind with enough accuracy to react in horror. Blood, unbelievable amounts of blood. And screams. And pain.

  Unable, and unwilling, to explain those impressions, Will merely urged the horse into a trot, ordering Ajax to follow the puppy’s scent. He appreciated that the lady didn’t question his path.

  His Malcolm sisters-in-law were nonstop chatterers, so he’d never thought of Lady Aurelia in the same manner as her cousins. Except he knew that her father was descended from one of the more mad of the Malcolm witches—one who heard spirit voices and saw ghosts. He didn’t think the puppy was a ghost or that the scene of carnage in its mind was from beyond the veil, but it was possible that the lady might be hearing more than was evident in the real world.

  Double damn and twice the trouble.

  With an inexorable sense of foreboding, he led the way in silence, through darkness, until they reached the bottom of the steep hill. Ajax yipped and raced toward the south. The cold night air nipped at Will’s nose, but this flat path was safer than the downhill one.

&nb
sp; “I hear her!” the lady cried in a low voice. “We’re close.”

  Will heard nothing human. He connected his mind to Ajax, sifting through the sounds and scents—until he heard a child’s quiet weeping through the dog’s ears. His stomach lurched, and he sent the lady a narrowed look. “Do you hear her in your head or with your ears?” he asked, cursing himself as he did. Ives curiosity often won over common sense.

  “Both,” she said curtly, straining to hear the impossible.

  She seemed agitated but didn’t do anything reckless like sending her horse galloping through the rocks to reach the invisible. He’d always known the lady as a cautious creature who seemed better suited to a fairy garden than the real world. Her reply proved him right.

  “There, by those boulders,” she whispered, distracting his wandering thoughts.

  The terrain she indicated was too rough for their mounts. Keeping an eye on Ajax, Will found a grassy patch by the creek not far from the boulders. He dismounted and would have followed the dog alone, but the lady’s impatient reaction forced him to reconsider.

  “You’ll terrify her. Help me down.”

  The night couldn’t be any weirder. Will clasped the lady’s tiny waist—he’d been right, his hands circled her—and lifted her down. She smelled of cakes and biscuits, weighed almost nothing, and he had a need to cradle her against him. At the notion, he practically dropped her and backed away.

  She didn’t seem to notice. Removing the puppy from her pocket, she cuddled it in her arms, letting it sniff the air and whimper expectantly. Without hesitation, she lifted her skirt and cloak and picked her way across the stones toward Ajax, who had begun to yip quietly.

  Feeling like an unnecessary appurtenance, Will tagged along. If the child had been crying, it wasn’t now. That did not bode well.

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