Mary looked slightly offended. “Of course I can!”
“Good.”
“But what good will be done by distracting him?” Mary asked.
Tatiana closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “With Morgan distracted, Adriana will be married to Vallentyn by special license and packed off to the Abbey. Morgan will follow her, naturally, and then...” Tatiana snapped her fingers, “we have him. He will return to his forest, and the spells I have already put into place will keep him there—forever.”
Mary smiled and clapped her hands together in appreciation.
Tatiana gave a small nod of acknowledgment before standing up and giving the bell a sharp tug. “I shall make your job easier.”
A maid servant answered the summons.
“Tell Miss Havelock I wish to see her,” she said to the maid, and then watched with satisfaction as the young woman practically ran out of the room on her errand.
Tatiana was helping herself to another cup of tea when Kat entered the room.
“My dear, would you care for some tea?” Tatiana asked sweetly.
“No, thank you, Aunt Vallentyn. Good afternoon, Mary.”
Mary nodded coldly to her cousin, and then sat back to watch the proceedings.
“Is there something you wished to see me about?” Kat asked, hesitantly coming a little further into the room.
“Yes. Come and sit by me,” Tatiana said, patting the sofa next to her.
“I’d just as soon stay here, if you don’t mind, ma’am,” Kat answered.
“But I do mind,” Tatiana said, trying very hard to keep her voice soft and easy.
Kat came forward slowly and sat down at the edge of the sofa. And then she made the mistake of lifting her eyes toward Tatiana for just a moment as she sat down. Immediately, Tatiana had her.
“That’s right, Katrina,” Tatiana said soothingly. “You are learning, my girl. It makes me so happy when you cooperate.”
Kat struggled to tear her eyes away from Tatiana’s but there wasn’t a chance she would succeed.
Tatiana’s eyes held hers firmly as she gently took Katrina’s hand. “I need information, Kat,” she said lacing her words with magic. “Will you tell me what I need to know?”
Kat struggled to pull her eyes away. Tatiana could feel the girl’s magic building as she tried desperately to shield her mind from Tatiana’s magical fog–laced words. “Do not resist, my dear. It is quite all right.”
Tatiana added more magic to her voice, magic that would weave its way into the girl’s mind, making it nimble. “You remember the last time you and I spoke like this, I told you not to resist and to give me whatever information I required. Now calm yourself, Kat, and do as I say.”
Her voice had the desired effect, and the girl began to calm rather quickly. Tatiana smiled, exuding calm and tranquility. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Mary relaxing against the cushions of the chair in which she was sitting.
“Tell me, Kat,” Tatiana said gently, “have you been to see Morgan recently?” She let her words slide and slither their way into her niece’s mind.
Kat gave one last effort to repel Tatiana’s magic, but the fight was already lost. Slowly, Kat shook her head. “I haven’t seen him for a few days,” she said quietly.
Tatiana nodded. “Very well, then. I want you to go and see him tomorrow. I want to know his plans—where he is going and with whom. I want to know what my dearest son is up to.” Tatiana gave her niece a soothing smile. “When you find out, you are to come and tell me. Do you understand, Kat?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kat said, in the monotone that came with the befuddlement Tatiana had placed over her mind.
“Very good. Now go and enjoy your rest before this evening’s amusement. You shall not remember this exchange, but you will tell me Morgan’s plans as soon as you learn them.”
Kat’s head dropped to her chest for a moment and then she rubbed at her eyes.
“You look very tired, my dear,” Tatiana said, gently letting go of Kat’s hand. She laced her words with just a touch of magic to set them into her niece’s mind. “Why don’t you go up to your room and rest for a little while before dinner?”
Kat nodded and slowly made her way from the room.
Mary gave a little giggle. “It is amazing how you do that, Mother!”
Tatiana narrowed her eyes at her daughter. The young woman stopped laughing right away and cleared her throat.
After taking a sip of her luke–warm tea, Tatiana said, “I will pass on the information when I receive it. And then you will play your part, Mary.”
<><><>
The summons to Lord Devaux’s study was not a welcome one. She had yet to finish her morning chocolate and had only taken a bite of toast when the maid had come in.
Henrietta gave Adriana a startled look. It was never a good sign when Lord Devaux asked you to his study.
Adriana gave her companion a reassuring smile as she stood up. “I needed to ask him about going out to the modiste’s today anyway. I’m glad he called for me,” she said with more confidence than she felt.
Henrietta nodded, and then whispered “Good luck” so the maid, who was still in the room, wouldn’t hear.
Adriana braced herself for a potentially difficult interview as she knocked before entering the study.
Lord Devaux was sitting at his desk, going over some papers. He didn’t pause or look up as she entered, so she was forced to stand in front of his desk until he was ready to speak with her.
It was probably her imagination, but her guardian’s study seemed to be harsher today. Every piece of paper on his desk was perfectly squared off, every book on the shelf stood perfectly at attention. There wasn’t any touch of comfort or personality to the room at all. Not one painting graced a wall. Over the fireplace was a framed map of Britain denoting the counties—it was the brightest object in the room as each county was outlined in a different color. Everything else—from the books, to the chairs, to the desk was a plain, ordinary brown. It was as if her guardian didn’t believe in beauty.
Finally, setting aside the papers, he frowned at her and then steepled his fingers together. “I ran into Lord Vallentyn at my club last evening,” he began.
Adriana shivered. This was going to be worse than she had expected.
“Yes, you should pale at that. He told me you didn’t wish to marry him—that you were trying to back out of the engagement.”
Adriana stayed silent—she truly didn’t have anything to say.
“Do you know what would happen if you did that?” Lord Devaux’s voice went high with his irritation. “Do you know how society would look upon that?” He paused, waiting for her response.
“I knew what I was doing when I spoke with Lord Vallentyn,” Adriana replied, her voice as steady as her nerves were taut.
“Did you? Did you fully know what you were doing? Did you think about all of the implications of your actions?”
“Yes. I did,” Adriana answered. She wasn’t certain, but her heart may have stopped. It was that brief moment, that stop in time, just before it burst into a thousand tiny pieces.
Lord Devaux tapped his fingers together. “I see. Then you want me to destroy all of your paintings, do you? You don’t ever want to be allowed to paint or sketch...” he left his words hanging.
It exploded. The pain seared its way down into her stomach, and up into her head. Adriana blinked back her tears, but kept her head held high, her back straight despite the urge to double over with pain. “I cannot marry him.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“Will not. Cannot,” she answered with more bravado than she felt. She would not put herself at Lady Vallentyn’s mercy, no matter what. She would rather deal with this—a broken heart, a shattered world.
Lord Devaux threw himself back in his chair. “Why must you persist with this nonsense?” A small, cruel smile flitted across his face. “I will not hesitate to carry out my threat. I will personally burn a
ll of those pictures. And your paints and paintbrushes. You will never lift a pencil again except to make notes as to who to invite to my next political dinner.”
Adriana blinked again. She would not allow this man to see her pain. She had tried to prepare herself for this. Naturally, it hadn’t worked. Nothing could prepare someone for losing the only thing they had ever lived for. But it was the gleeful menace he used to describe destroying her life that was making it so she couldn’t breathe. She wished he didn’t have this effect on her. But he had to rub the salt into her wound.
“Now, listen to me well, Adriana. You will do as I say and call Lord Vallentyn here. And you will tell him you’ve changed your mind,” Lord Devaux’s voice was now coarse with anger. But Adriana didn’t move. She didn’t dare breathe.
She managed a small shake of her head. “I cannot.”
“Cannot! Cannot!” His fist banged the table to emphasize the words. “You will and you will do so immediately!” Lord Devaux was up out of his chair, screaming at her in a way she had never seen before.
Adriana’s hands were clasped together so tightly, her fingers beginning to prickle with pins and needles, but she held her ground. “I cannot and I will not, my lord.”
“How dare you!” Lord Devaux stopped, took a deep breath and then tried another tack. In a moderately calm voice he asked, “What is this? What has happened to you? You used to be so obedient, Adriana. Suddenly you’ve begun to assert yourself in a way that is most unbecoming.”
“I am sorry, my lord, but you have never before asked me to do anything so repugnant. I have made up my mind. I will arrange your parties and take care of your house, but I will not...”
“That is enough!” he shouted. “You are the most stubborn girl. You always have been.”
Adriana stood in silence, staring straight ahead at her guardian.
He took a deep breath.
It was enough. In fact, it was more than enough, she thought. She had nothing more to say. Her heart was broken, and she was certain the dam of tears inside of her was about to burst open. But still, she stood.
“If that is all, my lord?” she finally asked.
Lord Devaux looked up at her with a look of fury in his eyes that made Adriana shiver. Only Lady Vallentyn scared her more than her guardian—and that fear was enough to keep herself in check and go through with what she had begun.
“No, that is not all,” he said, a terrifying grin growing on his face. “This evening, when I return from Parliament, I will personally burn all of your paintings. One by one, you will watch all of your precious work destroyed until you agree to marry Vallentyn.”
Adriana’s hands begin to shake. No matter how tightly she held them together. She knew that it wouldn’t be long before it spread to other parts of her.
Abruptly, she turned her back on her guardian and walked to the door. As she opened it, she paused and said without turning around, “I will be going out this afternoon, my lord. I have an appointment at the modiste’s for a fitting for the last of my new dresses. I think it will be perfect to wear to your next dinner party. Please inform the footman that I may go before you leave for Parliament.”
Adriana made it as far as the first landing before she lost control. She didn’t know how she managed to stumble all the way up to her studio.
The shaking, the tears, and eventually the headache didn’t leave her all morning. She looked through each and every one of her paintings. From the time she was six years old and her parents had died in that horrible fire, she had not thrown away a single one of her drawings and paintings. She marveled over the slightly awkward yet powerful paintings of burnt buildings she had painted when she’d been young, and then at her increasing deftness with the brush and colors as she slowly taught herself to represent the world. And if, perhaps, she lingered a little too long over her most recent work—the painting of Morgan by the stream—who would know? Henrietta came by to check on her only once. Adriana had locked the door so that she wouldn’t be disturbed. She was too busy. Too busy mourning her own life.
It was nearly twenty minutes to three, the time that she had arranged to meet Morgan, when she finally stepped outside of her studio. Carefully, she locked the door behind her, and pocketed the only key. Through her sadness, she took perverse pleasure at the thought that at least her guardian would have to break down the door to the studio to get at her creations.
A splash of cold water and a touch of Henrietta’s face powder would have to be good enough, she thought eyeing herself in the mirror. There was nothing she could do about her blood–shot eyes, but perhaps if she kept them lowered nobody would notice.
Much to her surprise, Lord Devaux had remembered to tell the footman that she had permission to leave the house that afternoon, so she had no trouble meeting Morgan just outside as they had planned.
Twenty Six
Morgan could sense the power in the room the moment he walked through Byron’s door. He had been surprised by Byron’s charisma while speaking with him the night before, but what was in this room was so much more potent. There was a sense of being in the presence of greatness, and an irresistible energy that pulled Morgan toward it. He eagerly looked around the room for the source. It was easy to find—leaning casually against the mantle was another gentleman.
Another Vallen, Morgan was sure of it.
Lord Byron came forward to greet them. Out of the corner of his eye, Morgan saw Adriana hanging back, almost as if she were afraid to enter the room.
“Lord Byron, may I present Miss Adriana Hayden,” Morgan said, after giving his host a small bow. He could tell by the look on her face that he wasn’t the only one affected by the power in the room.
Lord Byron bowed to her. “I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Hayden.” He then turned to the other gentleman who was still standing by the fireplace. “I’m sure no introduction is needed, but this is my good friend, Edmund Kean.”
Morgan could hear Adriana gasp quietly beside him. He had heard of the famous actor from Kat, but the man baffled him. He was a rather small person, but he gave off the impression of being much larger. Could this be part of his magic? By his size one wouldn’t think much of him, but by his bearing it was easy to imagine an entire theatre of people on their feet shouting accolades and praise—as Kat had described to him in one of her meticulous letters that always kept him so well entertained when she was in London.
“It is an honor to meet you,” Adriana said quietly, while curtseying to Mr. Kean.
Morgan bowed, then took a moment to take in the room. It looked like an ordinary drawing room. He didn’t quite know what he had expected, but he’d thought that a powerful Vallen, and especially one as talented as Lord Byron, would have some outward sign of his impressive abilities. But there was nothing but a well–appointed, if rather masculine, ordinary drawing room. For some reason, he was acutely disappointed.
“Naturally you have seen Kean perform on the stage?” Byron asked, while indicating they should seat themselves.
Morgan put out his hands apologetically. “This is my first visit to London. I’m afraid I haven’t had the honor of going to the theatre yet.”
Lord Byron nodded and turned to Adriana. She turned a little pink before saying quietly, “My guardian has never allowed me...” her voice faded away as her blush deepened.
Mr. Kean had resumed his pose by the mantle.
“In that case, you must join me one evening. I have a box at the theatre,” Lord Byron offered.
“Thank you,” Morgan said. “I would enjoy that a great deal. I’ve heard a great deal about your performance of Macbeth from my cousin.” There was an awkward silence for a moment. Adriana didn’t say anything, but just stared down at her interlocked fingers.
“I read the play as a boy, and look forward to seeing it enacted. Will the witches be played by Vallen?” Morgan asked, although he was pretty certain what the answer would be.
Mr. Kean burst out laughing. He had a bold, loud laugh, jus
t how Morgan imagined an actor’s laugh would be.
“No!” He spread his arms open wide. “Do you really believe we would allow the public to think that witches might be real? No, I say! To do so would be foolhardy.” He finished raising one arm and extending one finger up toward the ceiling in another striking pose.
Morgan had felt it as soon as Mr. Kean began speaking—a strong magic interlaced with his words and his motions. What was it that Kean was doing? With hardly a thought, Morgan blocked the magic.
Adriana laughed and shook her head, but then stopped suddenly and gasped. A thrill rolled through Morgan as he saw Adriana recognize the magic the actor had wielded so expertly.
“So there are no other Vallen who are actors?” Morgan asked skeptically, deliberately ignoring the magic still reverberating in the air.
A slow smile spread over Mr. Kean’s face. “Ah, I did not say that, did I?”
“No, you simply answered my question.”
“And do you not believe me?” Mr. Kean looked sideways at Morgan.
“I do. Although I doubt very much the public would think for a moment that the Vallen on stage were actually magical unless they did something that clearly proved they were.”
Mr. Kean seemed to be silently assessing him. He then turned to Byron and bowed slightly. “You were right, my friend, he is a powerful Vallen.” Turning back to Morgan he said, “You were able to completely block my mesmer.”
Morgan gave a little apologetic smile and a shrug.
“You doubted me?” Byron asked his friend, raising an eyebrow.
“Never again!” Mr. Kean answered firmly.
“But to answer your question, there are other Vallen in the theatre,” Mr. Kean went on, turning back to Morgan. “Perhaps you will recognize them when you see them. I shall not tell you who, but we will see if you can discern who they are after you have seen our play.”
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