“Oh.” The gentleman was clearly very disappointed. He too straightened up in his seat, and turned his attention back to his food, Morgan clearly forgotten.
“Thank you for your time,” Morgan said, giving him a slight bow and turning to leave. The man grunted in response, but didn’t look up from his plate.
Morgan went back and sat down opposite Adriana once more.
“Not the right gentleman?” she asked.
Morgan just shook his head. He was too crestfallen to say anything just at the moment. For a minute there, he thought he had found his man. For a minute, he had allowed his hopes to soar, but now...
“I don’t think I’m ever going to find him, Adriana. I’m sorry,” Morgan said, rolling the bottom edge of his glass around on the table.
“Oh, no, Morgan. You can’t give up. You will meet him. There are many more stout gentlemen here who you haven’t met yet, and probably many more in society who may not even be here this evening. I’m certain you will find him.”
Morgan gave Adriana a little smile. He appreciated her kind words, but no longer did he actually believe them to be true. With a sigh he pushed himself up from the table. “Please excuse me, Adriana, I need a moment.”
Twenty Four
Morgan stepped into the darkened room. Although there was an acrid smell of tobacco, there didn’t seem to be anyone there.
He went in, but did not close the door all the way behind him, needing the little bit of light provided by the wall sconces in the hall way. Moving toward the fireplace, he pointed at the stack of wood that was laid there. Immediately, a fire burst to life, providing enough light so he could close the door.
He had just turned from doing so when a deep voice came out of the darkness from one of the corners of the room. “Very impressive,” it said.
Morgan’s blood and body froze. He turned toward the voice. “Who is there?”
The wood floor creaked under a man’s weight and there was a shuffling of uneven footsteps. Slowly, into the soft flickering light of the fire, a man appeared. His thin face was startlingly handsome, despite a slightly long nose. His eyes were heavy–lidded, his hair dark and curly. As he approached, he casually removed the cheroot he had been holding between his teeth and blew a cloud of smoke. Morgan recoiled a bit from the smell.
“My name is Byron,” the man said. “And you are?”
Morgan had heard of Lord Byron, and had even read some of his poetry, but he had never thought to actually meet the man in person. How exciting to meet a famous poet, he thought as he took a step forward again. “My name is Vallentyn, Morgan Vallentyn.”
Lord Byron paused before casually resuming his awkward gait toward the fire. “Well, that explains that, doesn’t it?”
Morgan’s heart stopped for a moment. “Have you heard of my family?” he asked quickly.
“But, of course. Who hasn’t?”
“No one outside of the world of the Vallen,” Morgan said, daringly.
The man spun around to face Morgan once again. His face registered shock for a moment and then he threw back his head and laughed a deep, full–bodied laugh. “Indeed, my friend, indeed!”
Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. It was a risk to be so bold and direct when speaking of Vallen. He wasn’t quite sure what had made him say such a thing. He just knew he suddenly felt very bold, even adventurous.
At a wave of Lord Byron’s hand, a chair slid across the floor toward him. Casually, he sat down again and crossed his legs. He indicated Morgan should pull up a chair as well.
Morgan did, but could hardly sit still. He was too worked up. He wanted to be up and moving about, doing something—and yet just before he had come into the room, he’d wanted nothing more than to sit quietly by himself and think about how he was going to try to find a powerful Vallen. It didn’t seem to make a lot of sense that he should feel so energetic now.
“So you are a Vallentyn. Yet another child of Lady Vallentyn’s or a more distant relation?”
“I am the youngest of Lady Vallentyn’s children,” Morgan stated.
Byron perked up at that. “The youngest? The seventh?”
“Yes. Is there something notable about that?” Morgan asked, leaning forward.
“I don’t know, you tell me,” Byron replied, looking at Morgan warily. He took a few more pulls at the cheroot in his mouth.
“I know nothing except that my mother has never forgiven me for being male.”
Byron nodded slowly. “Yes, that is... awkward. But what of your powers? I see that you can control fire. What else? Are you very powerful like your mother, or are you more like your esteemed brother and sisters?”
Morgan side–stepped his question for the moment, not sure if this was the time or place to try and get his questions answered. “Are you a powerful Vallen?” he asked.
Byron raised one eyebrow. “I suppose it depends on who you ask. Some of my friends believe me to be quite powerful, but I have known others who are much more powerful than I.”
“Where does your power lie? What can you do?” Morgan asked, unable to sit still any longer. He stood up and moved to the fire place.
“Let’s just say that I inspire others, and help them to reach out for what they want.”
“Oh. And you do that with magic?” Morgan asked.
“Yes. And I have some small ability to craft words.”
Morgan laughed. “Small ability? Sir, you are a master poet!”
Byron spread his hands out. “I do my best.”
“There are so many different types of Vallen,” Morgan marveled aloud, “with such varying powers.”
“Indeed, as individual as the person who wields them,” Byron agreed.
Morgan wondered if he dared to ask Lord Byron to help him in his quest for his powers. Did he have the knowledge to become the mentor he’d been looking for? He hardly hesitated a moment before deciding that it couldn’t hurt to ask—why not take the risk? If he didn’t ask, he would never learn the answer.
“I have been looking for someone,” Morgan began, quelling his need to move. “A powerful Vallen who might know the answers to... to some questions I have regarding magic and the world of the Vallen. And I am looking for a tutor to help me control my powers.”
Byron sat back in his chair. “I am not certain I can help you. Why don’t you ask your mother? She would surely be much more capable of helping you than I.”
Morgan slumped back against the mantel piece. “No. I can’t do that.”
“Can’t?”
“Absolutely cannot,” Morgan stated firmly.
Byron nodded slowly, stroking his chin in thought. Even in the quiet of the room, the sounds of the party still going on above them could be heard.
“If I agree to help you—assuming I can—is it possible that Lady Vallentyn may not be happy I have done so? I’d rather not risk the wrath of the high priestess.”
Morgan hadn’t thought about that. He certainly didn’t want to put anyone else in danger—it was bad enough Adriana might be in his mother’s sights.
Morgan stood up again. “I swear, no word of your assistance will reach my mother’s ears.” He was too desperate for help to give up this one possible chance at finding it.
Byron thought about this for a moment, then sat up. “Very well. I will do what I can, but not here, and certainly not tonight.” He took a last draw on his cigarillo, and flicked the butt of it into the fire. “Meet me tomorrow, at my home.” He stood, and with a wave of his hand, moved the chair back to where it had originally sat. “Three o’clock.” He limped from the room, not waiting for Morgan to respond.
Morgan finally felt free to walk about the room as he’d been eager to do for so long. The sensation was not quite as strong now, and was growing less and less by the minute, but it was still there—this recklessness, a restless need to be out and doing something.
He stopped suddenly, realizing what it was. It was Lord Byron. He himself had said that this was his magic—he inspi
red people to do things. Morgan nearly laughed. He had been caught up in the man’s magic and hadn’t even realized it!
Well, but just look at the outcome—he was invited to Lord Byron’s home, and hopefully would get all the answers he needed.
<><><>
Adriana stifled a yawn, but it was certain she was not going to get to sleep anytime soon. Morgan’s usual calming presence was anything but. He was agitated and excited. He could hardly keep still—his leg was bouncing, and for the fifth time in two minutes he leaned forward and peered out of the carriage window.
“Mr. Vallentyn, is there something wrong?” Henrietta asked.
He stopped moving and turned toward her. “No, not at all, why?”
“It is clear you are anxious about something,” Adriana said, laughing at how oblivious he was to his own actions.
“It is? But I’m not.” He paused. “I’m not anxious about anything.” He looked out of the window again and then, turning back to Adriana, added, “Well, I suppose I am a little anxious, but it’s more that I’m excited.”
Even Henrietta had to laugh at this disjointed speech. “And what is it you are so excited about?”
Morgan was looking out of the window again. His knee continued to bounce, adding a jiggle to the movement of the carriage.
“What? Oh. Did I not mention? I met Lord Byron.”
“Lord Byron?” Henrietta sighed. She had read and reread all of his works aloud to Adriana, quite a few times.
“That is exciting. Have you read his poetry?” Adriana asked. Somehow she just couldn’t imagine Morgan being a great fan of the poet’s works—or, indeed, of any other. He didn’t seem to be the type who read a lot.
“I’ve read some. Kat gave me one of his books once,” Morgan admitted, calming his bouncing knee.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Henrietta sighed once again.
“Well, to be honest, it’s not quite what I enjoy, but I’m not a great judge of these things.”
“Oh, but his Childe Harold...”
The carriage rolled gently to a stop, and Henrietta was interrupted by the footman opening the door.
Morgan quickly got out first then turned to help the two ladies out of the carriage. Following Adriana up the stairs and into the house, he placed his hand on her arm when she turned to say goodnight.
“Do you think I could have a word with you for a moment... alone?” he asked quietly.
Adriana could not resist the look in his eyes. He seemed to be so eager to speak with her, and he clearly needed to tell her something—he had ever since he had rejoined her at the ball. Henrietta had joined her, though, and he hadn’t been able to speak freely.
She gave a little nod, and led him up to her drawing room. When Henrietta followed them, Adriana said, “It’s all right, Henrietta. We’re only going to have a very brief word, and then Mr. Vallentyn will be leaving.”
Henrietta paused, before giving Adriana a very sly little smile and leaving the room. The door was left mostly open for propriety’s sake, but Morgan closed it further, leaving it open only a crack.
He took two long strides to reach Adriana’s side. Taking her hands in his own he declared in a quiet voice that was no less full of enthusiasm for its volume, “Lord Byron is Vallen! He is a powerful Vallen, and he’s agreed to speak with me tomorrow.” Morgan was radiating excitement.
All of Adriana’s exhaustion evaporated in his fervor. “Morgan, that’s wonderful. It’s wonderful you managed to find a Vallen to help you. Oh, I am so happy for you!” Adriana gave his hands a squeeze.
“You’ve got to come with me,” he said, leaning toward her, his face alight with happiness.
That stopped her. “What?”
“I need you there. I want you to be with me when I find out about my powers and, hopefully, he’ll even know about my destiny. He seems to be a very knowledgeable man.”
“I...I don’t know.”
He took another step closer to her so that their toes were nearly touching. He placed his hand on her cheek, his deep black eyes looking into her own. “Please, Adriana, I need you there. I don’t want to go alone.”
Adriana’s her heart stopped momentarily at the sweet, earnestness of his plea. His eyes sent chills of warmth skimming through her. How could she deny this man? How could she deny him anything when he asked her like that? He didn’t try to force her into it by placing a suggestion into her mind. He simply asked, with all of his heart. She could feel it, and it touched her.
Adriana swallowed hard and nodded. “If you need me, I’ll be there for you,” she said, her voice not working quite right.
The smile that slowly spread across his face was all that she needed to know that she had made the right decision. The kiss that followed just reinforced it, tenfold.
“Thank you, Adriana,” Morgan said, gently nuzzling her cheek. His voice, deep and husky, made Adriana’s knees weak. She leaned against his strength and was rewarded with sweet little nibbles across her cheek and down her neck. She buried her fingers into his soft black hair. She was so glad he hadn’t cut it short as so many men did. Instead, he kept it tied back in a queue from which she could easily free it to splay all over his broad shoulders. She was tempted to do so now.
A sigh escaped from her lips as she moved so she could capture his lips with her own once again. But it must have been a more chaste kiss than he had hoped because as she pulled back he still reached for more.
She smiled and put her finger to his lips. “You should go before Henrietta comes in to check on me,” she said softly.
Morgan kissed her finger, but then withdrew, sighing, “I suppose you’re right.”
“I’ll pick you up a little before three,” Morgan said, as Adriana showed him to the door.
She gave a brief nod, but her mind was now whirling with panic—how was she going to get out of the house without Lord Devaux’s permission, or his knowledge?
Twenty Five
It’s Adriana,” Tatiana said, sitting forward on the sofa.
“How could it be? How could she be giving Morgan these powers?” Mary asked, her tea cup clattering into its saucer.
“I don’t know. But they’ve got to be coming from her. Nothing else in his life has changed.”
“Perhaps there is something or someone else you don’t know about?” Mary asked, and then began stuttering, “I...I mean... certainly there isn’t...well, you know everything...”
“I know everything that goes on at Vallentyn, do not think for a moment I don’t,” Tatiana said with dangerous quiet. She had always liked her eldest daughter, but sometimes she spoke without thinking.
“Yes, of course you do, but couldn’t there be something...”
“Do not prove yourself the idiot, Mary,” Tatiana said, not even bothering to become angry. Her daughter just wasn’t worth losing her temper over.
“No, of course not, Mother,” Mary said, actually beginning to show some intelligence. “It must be Adriana, then.” She paused. “Is she Vallen? Could she be transferring some of her powers...?”
“No.” Tatiana rubbed her hand over her eyes. “Mary, please, please try not to be so very stupid?” she said, swallowing the anger that threatened her equilibrium.
Mary set down her tea cup again and folded her hands into her lap. “I am sorry, Mother. I’m just trying to help.”
Tatiana sighed, “Yes. I know you are. But until you actually have an intelligent thought in your head, the only way you can help is by being quiet and letting me think.”
Tatiana bent her mind once more to the puzzle of her youngest child’s newfound powers. There were so many reasons why this was wrong that she was nearly baffled by it.
It had been obvious to her soon after Morgan’s birth that there had been a mistake. Somehow, on the same day, her twin sister had had the child destined for Tatiana—a girl, born on the night of the summer solstice, of magnificent powers. Katrina was obviously the one meant to inherit this great destiny. Morgan was just an
anomaly. A child that should never have happened.
And yet, here he was developing powers he surely was never meant to have. It was impossible. It was wrong.
Kat hadn’t been born the most powerful Vallen, but with Tatiana’s guidance she was learning to make the most of what she had. Naturally, she would never be as powerful as Tatiana, but no one could be. No one!
No, it was Kat who was her true daughter. Kat who would care for her as she grew older. Kat who would treat her with respect when she had given over her position to the next generation—to Kat.
Morgan would never do that. And she shouldn’t have to rely on him to do so— he would not inherit this destiny! A man could not become the high priestess.
She focused on the chalice, which she had brought with her to London. It stood in an ornate nook over the fire place very similar to the one at Vallentyn Abbey. It calmed her just to look at it, and inspired her. It’s magical energy filled her. Closing her eyes, she felt it’s pulse like a life all its own.
With its energy thrumming through her, she cleared her mind. Morgan had to return to Vallentyn. Adriana was set to marry Jonathan. It was inconceivable that Adriana and Morgan could...
“I need a woman,” she said, opening her eyes and turning back to Mary.
“I’m sorry?” Mary asked, lowering the piece of cake she had been about to bite into.
“I need a woman to distract Morgan,” Tatiana said, a plan beginning to form in her head. “He is a man after all,” she continued. “Any woman would do. But I need him to stay away from Adriana. I told you, she is the key to his powers.”
“Oh, yes. But what woman? How?” Mary frowned, clearly trying to think this through. But before Tatiana had time to berate her, she snapped her fingers. “I’ll follow him.”
“What?” Suddenly, Tatiana was interested. Perhaps the girl did have a brain. She sat back down on the sofa, across from her daughter.
“I’ll follow him. See where he goes.”
A slow smile grew on Tatiana’s face. “Yes, you follow him. There is certain to be a woman wherever it is he goes. Then, you will simply convince her to distract him.” She looked sharply at her daughter. “You can do that, can’t you?”
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