The Witching Hour (Wiggons School #3) (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies) (The Wiggons' School for Elegan Young Ladies)

by Jane Charles

  “Yes,” he whispered in return right before he leaned forward and kissed her.

  Claudia let her eyes drift closed and allowed herself to get lost in his touch and his kiss. As he pulled her closer, her arms went about his shoulders, to keep him close. Her skin heated at his touch, and those sensations began low in her belly once again. Westbrook pressed her closer and soon he was kissing her cheeks and ear as his hands slipped up the sides of her ribcage. His thumbs neared her breasts that ached to be free.

  He nipped at her neck as one hand came over her breast, gently molding it. Claudia let her head fall back as she moaned.

  In an instant, he was gone.

  “Again, I apologize, Miss Morris.”

  “Mr. Westbrook?” She blinked up at him and tried to form a coherent thought. The gentleman had a way of muddling her mind.

  “I find I forget myself in your presence. I’d like to promise that it won’t happen again, but I am certain that it will.”

  Claudia’s face flamed as she understood completely but wouldn’t dare admit her weakness.

  “I will see you tomorrow night at eleven.” He started for the door. “And, wear something white.” He grinned before chuckling. “This will be entertaining indeed.”

  She sank against the desk, her heart pounding and blood rushing, as she tried to get ahold of herself. He was certain he would kiss her again. Even if she tried, Claudia couldn’t fight the thrill that ran through her, or the anticipation of the next time they were alone.

  “Oh, and Miss Morris...”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice because she had been certain he was gone.

  “Yes?”

  “Do call me Gabe or Gabriel. It’s only fitting since we are in this fight together.”

  “Fight?” she squeaked.

  “Against the French and against three students. And, I really don’t wish to be addressed as Westbrook the next time I’m kissing you.”

  She laughed. “Only if you call me Claudia.”

  He stepped into the light, his eyes darkening once again. “It would give me much pleasure to do so.”

  Chapter 8

  The parties so judging can justifie their skill to any, and shew good reasons why such markes are not merely natural, neither that they can happen by any such natural cause as is before expressed, and for further answer for their private judgements alone, it is most false and untrue,… which marks not only he, and his company attest to be very suspitious, but all beholders, the skilfulest of them, doe not approve of them, but likewise assent that such tokens cannot in their judgements proceed from any the above mentioned Causes.

  ~ The Discovery of Witches by Matthew Hopkins, Witch-finder

  “It stands to reason that if Westbrook is a warlock, Victoria and Olivia are probably witches,” Eliza whispered.

  Sophia blinked at her. “How did you arrive at that conclusion?”

  “They are related by blood and share a mother.” Eliza leaned in. “She was probably a witch as well.”

  Rosemary nodded, her dark curls bobbing.

  “And, Olivia already has powers,” she hissed.

  Sophia wanted to argue and insist Eliza was letting her imagination run away again, but she had seen the branch point to the ground. And, it wasn’t just Olivia and Westbrook, but Miss Morris as well, which truly had scared her. Could Eliza, for once in her life, be right about something?

  “I fear it might be too late for Miss Morris.” Rosemary sighed with sadness.

  “I know.” Eliza shook her head.

  Sophia’s heart constricted at the thought. There had to be a way to save her.

  “She tried to cover the mark with a shawl, but I saw it.” Rosemary rubbed her neck and shivered.

  “I would have thought he’d leave it where no one could see, but that is the mark of the devil, just like we read about,” Eliza insisted.

  Tears filled Sophia’s eyes at remembering the small bruising on the side of Miss Morris’ neck. Was it too late to save her?

  The door to the sitting room opened, and all three girls ducked into another room. They’d been in the corridor to see if they could hear why Westbrook had called on his sisters.

  “I wish we could be there tonight,” Victoria said.

  “Do you promise we can join next time? We’ve longed to be part of the sac—.”

  “—Tradition,” Victoria interrupted her sister.

  “When you are older, I promise. Besides midnight in December can be very cold. I would have you safe and warm.”

  “Midnight? Tonight?” Eliza mouthed.

  Sophia and Rosemary shrugged.

  “Gabriel?” Olivia asked. “When might we learn more? I long to explore my pow—.”

  “—Talents,” Victoria blurted over his sisters words.

  “In time,” he assured them. “Now, return to your class, and we won’t discuss this further. We don’t know who could be listening.” His voice dropped low with his last words. “Goodbye, girls.”

  Eliza, Sophia, and Rosemary stepped further into the room as Olivia and Victoria drew near.

  “I can’t wait until we are old enough to attend,” Olivia said as she and Victoria crossed in front of the door to the room they were standing in.

  “We’ve waited so long, but after we are away from here, I’m sure he’ll change his mind.”

  Their voices trailed off as they climbed the stairs, and Sophia stepped out into the corridor and watched as they disappeared. “What do you think happens at midnight?” she finally asked her friends.

  “They are going to cast a spell,” Eliza answered with authority. “And we are going to be there.”

  “Why?” Rosemary asked in alarm.

  “To figure out a way to stop them, of course.”

  “Why aren’t you in class, girls?”

  All three of them jumped as Miss Morris stepped into the room.

  They kept looking at each other, and for the first time, they were at a loss for words.

  “Well, what is it?” she demanded.

  “Westbrook is a warlock, and his sisters are witches,” Rosemary blurted out.

  Eliza nudged her in the side with her elbow while Sophia prayed her teacher would offer a reasonable explanation. After all, if Eliza was correct, which she rarely was, Miss Morris could very well be turning into a witch herself. How quickly did it happen? She already could divine, and she bore the mark of the devil.

  Instead, Miss Morris laughed. “Goodness, girls. First vampires, then ghosts, and now witches? I don’t know what to do with you. Now run along to class.”

  Gabe stood at the window in his chambers beside Wilston and looked through the spy glass. The boats were still in the distance, but he could see their approach beneath the full moon. “Is this wise?” he asked.

  “We can’t afford to wait for a cloud-covered night,” Wilston answered. “Marseau could return at any time.”

  That was true.

  “I’ll keep watch while you go down and do…whatever it is you’re doing tonight.”

  Gabe had already explained to his servants the necessity to keep the students occupied, what they believed of him, and that revenge was in the making. Normally he wouldn’t have considered bringing a coven together, especially since the only witchcraft linked with his name was purely fabricated. But, it did serve the mission to keep the girls focused away from the beach and cave. And, as he’d told Claudia, he was enjoying himself more than he had in a very long time.

  “Miss Morris has arrived, Westbrook,” Davies, a footman said as he came into the room.

  “Thank you.”

  He left the men and headed down the stairs and into the library. The windows looked out opposite the school, but the curtains were drawn just in case.

  Claudia stood in the center of the room wearing a white gown that was at least five years out of fashion.

  “It is the only white I owned.” She looked down and held out her arms. “From when I was a student.”

 
The length wasn’t too short, however, the bodice was rather snug and his mouth watered with the thought of tasting her one day. He was also just as certain the dress had not been that tight when she was a student or Mrs. Wiggons would have arranged for a seamstress.

  Gabe cleared his throat. “Perhaps you should wear your cloak.” She was too much of a distraction since all he could think about was carrying her upstairs and removing that gown. “You’ll catch your death outside in only that.”

  “I shall be fine,” she assured him. “We don’t plan on being out there for hours, do we?”

  “That shawl will be of little help in keeping you warm.”

  Bright color appeared on her cheeks. “It isn’t for warmth.” She let one side slip away from her neck and that was when he saw the bruising. His love bite from the night before.

  Gabe strode forward and brushed his fingers against the delicate skin.

  Claudia shivered.

  “I am sorry. Had I known you bruised so easily...”

  “Do not be concerned.” Then the corners of her lips lifted and mischief danced in her gray eyes. “I may have let the shawl slip, once, for three young ladies to glimpse it before I covered myself again.”

  Gabe stepped back. “Why would you do that?” Did she wish to be ruined? What if an adult saw? She’d lose her teaching position.

  “I’ve read the same books that they have. One of the most damning things for a woman was an unnatural mark on her body. If one was found, it was proof that the devil himself had marked her.”

  Gabe let the words sink in and then burst out laughing.

  “Well, don’t let your friends see it because they’ll know exactly what it is.”

  The color in her cheeks grew brighter. “Or, perhaps they’ll know it is the bite of a Devil of Dalston?” She drew her shawl back up, covering the mark. “You need not worry that anyone will see. I would not do that to you.”

  “Me?” She did not need to protect him.

  “My friends are rather protective. They may jump to conclusions that are none of their concern.”

  She didn’t want to trap him into marriage. Before his reputation was tarnished, it had been quite the opposite for him.

  Gabe took her hand and lifted it to his mouth before turning it palm up and kissing the inside of her wrist.

  Claudia shivered again, and he bit back a smile. They would do well together.

  “Claudia, have you considered that perhaps I wouldn’t care if they forced my hand?”

  Her eyes blinked open in surprise.

  He kissed her quickly, because frankly, he’d been wanting to kiss her since he walked into the room. “I’ve given matters some serious thought.”

  “Lord and Lady Atwood and one of their servants,” the footman announced.

  Gabe pulled back. “We will discuss this when everything is over.”

  Discuss what when what was over? Tonight? Catching the French? A future between the two of them? Claudia’s mind was reeling, and she couldn’t focus on a single thought as Atwood and Tess walked into the room followed by Wesley, Atwood’s valet. Of course he’d be here. Atwood wouldn’t ask him to sit out on a chance to get even with the girls.

  “Miss Morris,” Wesley said as he came forward carrying a white piece of material over his arm. “When I learned what was to occur tonight I had the maids whip up this cloak.” He unfolded the material and shook it out. “I knew you had nothing in your wardrobe that was appropriate and didn’t wish for you to freeze.”

  She ran her hand over the soft wool.

  “They’ve lined it in fur so you should be quite comfortable outside.”

  “Thank you, Wesley.” Claudia took the cloak from him. “It was very sweet of you to have it made.”

  He sniffed. “Just because you are being sacrificed, does not mean you shouldn’t also be fashionably clothed.” Then he looked down at what she was wearing. “Though I wish we would have had time for a proper gown.”

  Her face heated. She knew the dress was out of style and no longer fit her as it should, especially the bodice, but Gabe had told her to wear white, and it was the only gown she possessed of that color. Actually, she was surprised it still existed, but there were many items at the back of her armoire that she no longer needed, and no longer fit. She’d just never gotten around to getting rid of the clothing.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Kazakov,” the footman announced.

  Natalie rushed in, Anton behind her. “This is going to be so much fun,” she nearly squealed.

  Gabe caught Anton’s eyes, and they stared at one another before Anton gave a slight nod.

  At least the shipment was one thing they would not need to worry about tonight.

  “Would everyone care for a brandy before we go freeze in the back garden?” Gabe asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  He raised an eyebrow that it was Tess who answered. “Would all the ladies care for brandy instead of Madeira?”

  “Yes,” Natalie and Claudia answered at the same time. If she was going to be stuck sitting outside, she was going to drink something that warmed her blood, though she wouldn’t be nearly as cold as she feared now that Wesley had been kind enough to bring her a white wool cloak.

  “I’ll serve,” Wesley said in a tone that was more of an order and took the decanter from their host.

  “You have warned Mrs. Wiggons?” Tess asked.

  “Yes,” Claudia assured her. “She’ll be waiting for the girls to come screaming to her, and if they don’t, she will find them.”

  Wesley pressed a glass into Claudia’s hand. “What if we make it worse?”

  “How could it possibly get worse?” Natalie asked. “They need a good fright, a real one, so maybe they’ll cease interfering in everyone’s life and stop seeing things that are not there.”

  Claudia hoped they were correct and this plan worked.

  “One would have thought Sophia being kidnapped would have discouraged them,” Tess said after a moment.

  “Well, let’s hope that tonight they learn their lesson for good.”

  Two servants Claudia recognized from earlier stepped into the room, their arms loaded with black robes, and began handing them out before putting on their own.

  “If the girls scream, Ruth and Joseph will go after them,” Gabe explained. “We don’t want the girls to recognize the rest of you.” He took out a pocket watch and grinned. “It appears we approach the witching hour. Shall he retire to the gardens?”

  Chapter 9

  And the free-will of man has the choice between good and ill; therefore when he embarks upon sin, it needs that he is determined by something towards ill. And this seems chiefly to be done by the devil, especially in the actions of witches, whose will is made up for evil. Therefore it seems that the evil will of the devil is the cause of evil will in man, especially in witches.

  ~ Malleus Maleficarum by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger

  “I’m freezing,” Rosemary whined. “Can’t we go back in?”

  “No,” Eliza snapped. “We need to find out what is going to happen at midnight.”

  “All the draperies are closed. We can’t see inside.” Sophia worried that in a few moments something horrible was going to happen, and they’d be powerless to stop it. What if a spell was cast that would permanently put Miss Morris under his thrall. “And there are servants at each entrance.” Something dark and dangerous was going on inside that manor.

  “We could try a window?” Eliza suggested.

  “They’ll hear us.” Rosemary’s voice trembled. Sophia wasn’t certain if it was from fear or cold, or both.

  The three of them had walked around the perimeter of the manor, staying to the shadows, but still looking for a way inside. It was becoming unbearably cold, and she wished she’d worn a warmer dress beneath her pelisse.

  “What if we climbed the trellis and tried one of the upper windows?”

  Sophia looked at Eliza as if she’d lost her mind. “It is too delicate to
hold one of us, let alone three.” If they broke their necks, it would be a rather quick end to them finding out anything of merit, especially if Mr. Westbrook caught them.

  “What do we do?” Rosemary huddled deeper into her cloak.

  Just as Sophia was about to reconsider the idea of the trellis, the terrace doors opened. The three girls stepped further into the shadows of the trees that bordered the school property.

  Eight people wearing black hooded robes stepped out. Eliza grasped her hand, and Rosemary grasped her other.

  The group parted, revealing Miss Morris in a white cloak with her hands bound before her. Their teacher didn’t seem at all frightened, but rather calm. Her eyes were fixed ahead of her with no expression. Sophia’s heart skipped a bit. “It’s as if she’s been mesmerized,” she whispered.

  “What will we do?” Rosemary squeaked.

  “There are eight of them.” Eliza cried quietly.

  “What are they going to do?” Sophia finally asked, unable to believe what she was seeing.

  “That part is obvious,” hissed Eliza. “Miss Morris is their virgin sacrifice.”

  Sophia brought a hand to her throat, and panic rushed through her veins. She’d hoped and prayed that Eliza was wrong, just like she’d been all the other times.

  She had never been so powerless in her life. “Someone needs to get Mrs. Wiggons.”

  “We don’t have time,” said Rosemary.

  “Besides, she wouldn’t believe us,” added Eliza.

  The eight formed a circle, and Miss Morris stepped inside and they closed around her.

  “What are they doing? I can’t see,” Eliza said as she strained to look and stepped away from them.

  Sophia jerked her back. “Don’t let them see you.”

  “We’ve got to stop them.” Eliza struggled against Sophia’s grip on her arm.

  “We are outnumbered,” Sophia argued. Even though she wanted to save her teacher as well, she didn’t know how without being in danger herself.