“Waiting for you,” Antigone said. “Did you bring your spouse or are we still safe?”
“I left him, but…”
“He wants to come,” Venetia sighed. She felt tired in her bones. The dreams had been too intense for too long now. Even in the light of day, it seemed that the remnants of the nightmares lingered at the edge of her vision. She was sitting directly in a ray of the sun with her mind focused on happy things—when she first realized she adored Uncle Bradford, the time she, Antigone, and Alice had spent a whole afternoon paddling around the river that ran through Arathe-By-The-Sea, laughing and dreaming. The first time she’d gone for a long ride alone. The first time a rose had bloomed at her touch.
Alice shifted in her seat before she said, “I might have led him to believe that I was worried about the baby. So, he might be a little…anxious.”
Venetia finally cracked her eyelids and said, “I suppose since you are in love with him, we won’t mind him so much. I’m not feeling charitable towards very many people right now.”
“She’s having nightmares.” Antigone’s words were stark, and they made Venetia want to shift in her seat, but her friends were already worried. She felt their emotions—not that she was empathic, but she could feel their focused gazes and knew them well enough to know what they were thinking, worrying—remembering.
Venetia frowned but said nothing. She would not have told Alice who was expecting—growing a baby, she didn’t need her mind consumed by worries for Venetia. A moment later, Alice’s hand was on Venetia’s brow.
“You’re not hot.”
“It’s nightmares not the influenza.” Venetia’s voice was sarcastic but soft.
“What do you need?”
And there it was, Venetia thought, the concern that would be as haunting as the dreams. The constant worry. The attempts to entice her appetite with food or sweets. The over-attention, it would drive Venetia mad.
“Nothing,” Venetia said.
“You’re pale,” Alice declared. “She’s pale.”
The second comment was directed to Antigone, completely bypassing Venetia. It would take only moments for them to unite and try to decide for her what she needed.
Venetia’s eyes snapped open. She shook her head in denial of the two who hadn’t even noticed that she was sitting forward shooting daggers at both of them with her eyes.
Before they could take over, she said, “I want to dig my fingers into soil, feel the magic flowing through the roots, and work on my magecraft until I am so tired my eyes burn and then, perhaps, sleep in the gardens.”
“When do the Exhibition Gardens open?” Antigone demanded of Alice as if she would know. It was an annual event for them to come and see what the other mages who’d been working with plants had been doing.
“Not until Wednesday,” Venetia said. She didn’t deny that she felt a bit helpless. She needed…something. She needed gardens. They hadn’t rented a place with gardens. There were lovely hanging flower pots, but those didn’t need her. She gave them little boosts, but that hardly fed her need to exhaust herself. She needed…focus. She needed a distraction. She needed a project so big that it would take over all of her idle thoughts.
“Are any of your colleagues here?” Alice asked seemingly reading Venetia’s mind.
“I don't want to talk plants, I want to feel them, and I want to exhaust myself.” Even she heard the whine in her voice.
Neither of her friends pointed the whine out—which only went to show their worry. Otherwise, they’d have leapt on that whine and made fun until Venetia either laughed or pulled out her hair.
“You know…” Antigone mused. “There is a Ward House for the elderly. They have gardens. Perhaps we could visit and offer to rework their gardens while we are here. I would have nothing to contribute, of course, except a willingness to follow you around like a little dog.”
“Yes, that. Or the public gardens. Or something,” Venetia said, grasping at the idea. She knew already that it was doubtful any garden would really needed her. This was Arathe-By-The-Sea wonderland of gardens and growing things and plants. It was why she loved it here.
Alice excused herself to gather up her beloved Earl while Venetia agreed to take a healing potion for her headache and eat something. The servants brought tea quickly as if they had been waiting to do so. She assumed they had as Antigone's worries had the servants ready to leap to take care of Venetia. The tea arrived before Alice had returned with her husband, and he had been lingering nearby.
There was no question that Hugh Darcy, the Earl of Vohlk, was related to Lord Stanwullf and the Duke of Wolfemuir. They had the same build. The same commanding set to their shoulders. That sense of entitlement and surety that only came from being powerful, wealthy, and titled in Kendawyn. But Hugh Darcy had kind eyes—like Oliver—and he looked at Alice with adoration. Like, Venetia realized with a sinking feeling, Oliver looked at her.
“I suppose the Earl isn’t so bad,” Antigone said boldly as if he wasn’t there. “But what will he do when he realizes that Alice manipulated him into Arathe-By-The-Sea?”
“You are evil,” Venetia said, turning to watch Alice squirm.
Venetia took a bite of the lemon cake the servants had brought. She’d been wanting some since she had tricked Oliver into eating the awful cake Mrs. Ballington served and the sweetness was heightened by watching Alice struggle for words.
But then again, there was a happy look on Alice’s face that said she was looking forward to the joke. Had she counted on Antigone outing what had happened? It would be just like Alice to know what they’d all do.
“Manipulated me?” Hugh asked. He had paused in eating his cake, but he didn’t seem upset, and Alice cracked a mischievous grin. “You mean my sweet love knew you would come, rented a huge house so Rhys and Oliver could be controlled, and then purchased enough of your favorite treats to bribe you into forgiving her? All, mind you, while blaming it on what the baby needs? Yes, I know.”
Alice’s grin was lovely, Venetia thought. She joined in the joke as Antigone’s attempt to get Alice into trouble fell flat. His laugh was delighted and brought an even wider smile to Alice’s face. Even Antigone looked happy, but then again, she’d been testing the Earl, and he had passed.
“You are a constant surprise,” Hugh said to Alice as he lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist.
“This is Kendawyn, not the mortal realm,” Antigone said dryly—forcing her smile away to scold the two couple. “Keep that love bird nonsense to yourselves.”
This time Alice did blush. Brilliant and deep.
“I can see how you tricked him into marriage,” Antigone said. “You just batted your eyelashes and then he compromised you, and it was all sewn up.”
“She does have delightful eyelashes,” Hugh said as Alice laughed. He lifted his hand to her face, giving Alice a look that was so completely smitten, it was shocking to see it. Venetia felt somehow that she and Antigone had seen something too private to share, and then she felt a stab of utter jealousy as she realized she wanted Oliver to look at her the same way.
Oliver, Lord Stanwullf. The heated look between the couple warmed Venetia deep in her heart and the nightmares burned away.
“You really love her, don’t you?” The question was a complete surprise to all of them—Venetia included—though it was her mouth that had asked the question.
“Yes,” Hugh said simply, nodding for emphasis.
Venetia examined his face—searching for a lie—but how could one find a lie amidst all that adoration and care? His gaze turned to Alice too and soon all of them were staring at Alice. Perhaps they were each remembering their first meeting or the first time that they realized how important this quiet person was to their lives. Perhaps they were remembering the many times their lives had been improved by Alice. Perhaps they were remembering any number of moments good and bad that had cemented their friendship into family.
* * * * *
“For that,�
� Antigone said, “I suppose we will have to like you.”
“Thank you.” Hugh held Alice’s hand, and he had to know that their friendship was important to Alice, but there was no question that Alice’s allegiances had changed. Not only because she’d thrown the Duke and Oliver at them, but—well it was because it colored every line of her face. Somehow—since they’d last seen her—the deep-end parts of Alice’s heart and shifted and focused on this great hulk of a man.
It was evident that he was her north star and she was a compass. But, somehow it was reciprocal. They didn’t turn towards each other, but if they were observed, one would see little touches, quick glances, the angle of their bodies showed utter awareness of the other. Venetia would have thought it was the werewolf in Hugh if Alice didn’t do it as well. Perhaps an outsider would just assume Alice’s abilities in magecraft were more than they were. But Venetia knew Alice well. And Alice’s mage abilities were a mere shade above that of an untalented mortal.
Regardless, Alice’s happiness was linked to this hulk of a gentlemen with gold that flashed in his eyes and a gait that was too smooth with far too much animal grace. If Antigone and Venetia didn’t accept him—it wouldn’t be Hugh who would be left behind. Not that they’d had any intention of behaving in that manner, but the consequences were clearly obvious. Previously, Alice’s anchor had been her parents. Later, it was Mariah, Algernon, and the children. Now it was this man. This stranger.
This is what intense love did to you. But what if the man you so desperately loved was cruel and mean? How could one know? How could a person fall in love not knowing if the person was a monster?
“Enough of this,” Venetia said, setting down her teacup. “We’re being maudlin and emotional, and I need to move.”
Antigone ignored Venetia and said idly, “You should try the poppy seed cake, Venetia. It’s lovely.”
“Stop hovering,” Venetia said without heat. “Just because you are pretending to focus on Alice and Hugh doesn’t mean I don’t see you mother-henning me. I ate some lemon cake.”
She turned to Hugh and said, “I’m not calling you my Lord. If you’re Alice’s husband and I suppose you are…”
“I am,” Hugh said firmly though there was a smile in his eyes. He leaned back and took a sip of his tea, made a face, and then swallowed the rest in one great gulp.
“Then you’re a semi-brother, and I’m over and done with all these titles and all of this obeisance,” Venetia said it as if the mere idea exhausted her.
“Yes,” Antigone said. “Exactly that.”
Hugh raised a brow and then stood, taking Venetia’s hand, kissing it, and saying, “Semi-sister.”
Venetia rolled her eyes at Antigone and said, “Get your pelisse and your hat, shrew. I need to move.”
Antigone crumbled a piece of cake between her fingers, before lifting the bell to ring it. When she put the bell back down, she lifted her chin and said to Venetia, “Just because you are ill-ish, you are getting away with this. Once you are better, I will order you about like a servant.”
Venetia rolled her eyes as she answered, “Agreed. But I am not ill.”
“Then how do you explain your general pallor and aura of utter whininess?”
“Quiet,” Venetia said, without answering the question.
Hugh’s gaze went back and forth between them as they bantered, noticing everything. He gave them a long considering look until both of them had turned to him, questions on their faces.
But he didn’t answer the unspoken query, he spoke directly to Alice instead. “Yes. They’re perfect for Rhys and Oliver. I see it.”
“Be quiet,” Venetia snapped. She had stood without even recognizing what she was doing and was pacing between the windows, feeling as if she didn’t move, she’d scream. They should be chatting happily. Which they were, but there was a bit of a forced air of banter and bit of awareness of every single thing she did and ate and said. They seemed to notice if she held her breath or sighed. She could not take it one moment longer. “As my semi-brother, I demand that you side with Antigone and I. Especially after your wife has betrayed us so.”
Antigone interrupted Venetia to add her own argument, "But are His Grace and the pretty Oliver perfect for us?”
Hugh shrugged, but that wasn't a no. It was a struggle to reply clearly. “They’re good men. You’ll either like them or you won’t. But I’m not sure either of them will ever get over losing you. From what I can see, you could very well be their Alice. I can tell you now that I would never have gotten over losing her."
“Please,” Venetia pled. She twisted her arms in her sleeves. Her dress felt as if had become heavier, weighing her down. “I am finished with this subject.”
Antigone added, “Agreed.”
But Venetia didn’t wait for her. She kept going, riding over Antigone to demand, “As the one who everyone seems to be determined to hover over today, I demand that we leave. Alice needs sea air or something. The baby, etcetera. I’d like to stretch my legs, as well.”
Venetia refused to think on what Hugh had said. Never get over them? Nonsense. He had spoken so innocently. Pleading for his cousins. Planning with that observant gaze and quick step to protect all of them now. She’d just become a possession or some other such nonsense. Venetia could see it in the way he eyed them. He had the same concerned look on his face when he looked at her as he did when he glanced at his wife. Of course, the concern for Alice was more intense, but Venetia had just become the recipient of concern and protection and…
Perhaps possession was too strong, she thought, feeling guilty. She could see he was kind. She’d become family. She wasn’t ready for more family—if she couldn’t reciprocate in kind would that be acceptable? It was one thing to tease about semi-brothers—it was another to have another person wanting something—anything really—from her.
Venetia just didn’t know how she felt. She’d been adopted once before. This felt like those days that had felt wonderful and odd and a little bit as if she was going to be smothered.
“Alice told me of your desire to fiddle among plants.” Hugh again. Again innocent. Again concerned. Again just a little bit of a smothering in his tone.
Venetia nodded carefully still deciding how to react to this semi-brother who had taken her comment seriously rather than as the joke it had been. Did she want a brother? Did she need one? Did she have a choice?
“I’m sure we could get the Exhibition Gardens to let us in.” He seemed entirely unconcerned with the idea of contacting an establishment that was setting up for a major event and requesting for them to set aside their own plans for his. He didn’t care at all that they would tell every other person, Venetia included, no.
Venetia, damn it, was the one with a reputation for magecraft. Venetia was the one who had contacts and friends at the gardens. Venetia was the one…she caught Antigone’s gaze noting the same disgust Venetia felt.
“You’ll just go and flash your Earl credentials, and they’ll let you do whatever you want?” Antigone did not try to hide her sarcasm. Her hair was up, but there was the sense that she’d have tossed it in disgust. Her lip curled just a bit, and you could see why Rhys was having such a hard time with her. The Duke of Wolfemuir wouldn’t have even asked, Venetia suspected. He would just arrive and demand.
Hugh laughed because, despite the attitude and expression, there was no rancor in Antigone’s voice and then said, “Yes, I believe that covers the situation.”
“Convenient.”
“And yet nothing compared to what they might do for a Duchess.”
There was a moment of frozen shock before Venetia burst into laughter. She almost couldn’t control it, but the feeling of humor was so delightful and disarming that it seemed to bubble higher and faster than it would have otherwise.
“For that laugh,” Antigone said, scowling at Hugh, “I will forgive you.”
“A minor truth,” Hugh said, innocently. His expression, his look—it was somehow perfectly in
nocent and perfectly sarcastic at the same time.
Venetia giggled until the servants brought their things. When they left the house, the sun was shining bright, the skies were brilliant blue, the clouds were puffy and lovely, and there was a brightness not just in the air but in her heart. She felt more renewed than anything but calm sleep could give her. She took Antigone’s arm to squeeze it as they walked along.
“Oh that was lovely,” Venetia said. “I could get used to people other than me teasing you. You need someone to poke at you.”
“You need someone to throttle you,” Antigone replied bluntly, but the quick dart of her gaze at Venetia was protective, concerned, and yet pleased.
Chapter Thirteen
“We’ve been foiled,” Oliver said as he returned from his ride to Venetia’s home the day after the ball. She’d disappeared from the dance, and the concern for her was overwhelming. Even more so now that he had learned she'd left. He’d carefully tracked Antigone and Bradford Malvern when he hadn’t been able to find Venetia. They had noticed when she disappeared, but he’d also seen Antigone receive a note and continue to mingle with their friends as if nothing were wrong. She’d made her way, smoothly, to Malvern and whispered in his ear for a moment. That was all.
It did not abate Oliver's worry. What had made her leave? It was as if specters had appeared in the ballroom. Was it memories or fears or something else? Did he repulse her? But no…he didn’t think so. He’d made her laugh—there had been flashes of interest. Attraction even. Oliver felt as if Venetia’s nightmares had come to life right before him, and he was not sure what to do or how to react. He’d felt so helpless. It had been—nothing had unmanned him more—ever. Should he leave her alone? Just go? Give her the freedom and let her find her peace again?
He wasn’t sure he could, now that he’d met her. She’d overtaken him, made him hers and without even trying. She had, in fact, been overtly endeavoring to turn him away. Despite that, she’d become important to him. Was it ridiculous? Had he been so determined to love that anyone would do? Or was it her? Perhaps, it was Alice’s words that made him so likely to fall in love with this Venetia.
Persuaded to Love: A Kendawyn Paranormal Regency Page 10