Touch of Desire

by Susan Spencer Paul

  “It can’t be to incite Miss Tamony’s hopes in order to dash them or to meet Sir Alberic. You could arrange an introduction far more easily through one of your men’s clubs and forgo being in Sarah Tamony’s presence, which, if I recall correctly,” Niclas said, tapping a long, well-manicured finger against the line of his jaw, “was of great importance but a few weeks past. Your exact words, I believe, were that you wanted her to leave you in peace while in London.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Malachi replied as carelessly as he could. “I’ve decided that the best way to defend against Miss Tamony is to become acquainted with her. I’ll better be able to counter any attempts she makes at gaining access to our family history if I’m in her confidence.”

  Niclas looked slightly alarmed. “In her confidence?” he repeated. “I dislike the sound of that, Malachi. Be careful, I beg you. People will begin to speculate if they should see you in company too often with Miss Tamony, and you know how readily women fall in love with you.”

  Malachi smiled at the words. “You make too much of it,” he said. “Women fall just as easily in love with you, or used to, rather, before Julia took you in hand. It’s common for mere mortals to be attracted to our kind. We are so very unusual, after all.” The smile broadened.

  Niclas didn’t appear amused in the least. He sat in silence, frowning.

  “Don’t worry so,” Malachi said reassuringly. “I’ll be on my best behavior, and you and Julia will be there to make certain that everything goes as it should. I imagine you’re both looking forward to meeting Miss Tamony, being such admirers of hers.”

  Clearly unsatisfied still, Niclas replied stiffly, “Yes, we are. It’s quite a boon to be among those invited to any gathering she’s to be at. Every member of the ton is scrambling for invitations. The dinner to be held before the Herold ball is foremost among them.”

  “Poor Miss Tamony,” Malachi murmured, thinking of the windblown beauty he’d spent two very interesting hours with at Glain Tarran. She was a brave woman with a formidable will, but her heart was with her writing, not Society.

  “Are you aware that the Seymours won’t be the only magic mortals present at the Herold dinner?” Niclas asked. “Serafina Daray managed to secure an invitation, as well.”

  “Yes, I know,” Malachi said grimly. “Serafina and her malformed minions usually remain unseen during the winter months, but not this year. She’s up to something, I fear.”

  “She’s always up to something,” Niclas muttered. “The Darays are as dangerous as the Cadmarans, but far more clever.”

  Malachi nodded. “I believe Serafina may be trying to form an alliance among the dark Families to overthrow the Earl of Llew. She’s been doing a great deal of traveling among the heads of each clan, and led a delegation to visit with Morcar not too many weeks ago.”

  Niclas’s eyebrows rose. “You said nothing of this to me.”

  “What transpires within the dark Families is Morcar Cadmaran’s business, unless it begins to affect those who’ve given me their allegiance. It’s of little consequence to me if Serafina bests the Earl of Llew—heaven knows he’s foolish enough to let such a thing happen—and I could do nothing to stop her if that’s her plan. You know the rules of our kind. If she succeeds I’ll deal with her as firmly as I have with Morcar.”

  “Serafina is a clever sorceress,” Niclas said. “She’d likely be a great deal more trouble than Morcar.”

  “I’m keeping a watch over her,” Malachi assured him. “Just as I keep an eye on all the dark Families. Speaking of which, Morcar will be in London shortly. He left Llew yesterday.”

  Niclas was clearly unsurprised by the news. “I thought he’d be coming to Town soon,” he said. “He’s ever loved the Season and the admiration he enjoys among his mere mortal peers.”

  “It’s not entirely for that,” Malachi said soberly. “He’s coming because of the cythraul, to seek out clues about its arrival and to select a mere mortal for its possession.”

  “It’s odd that the Guardians would allow such a thing without punishment,” Niclas said. “Our kind has been charged with the care and guidance of mere mortals. To bring them harm is to break the most strident rules by which we live.”

  “Which you know far better than I, cfender,” Malachi said. Niclas had once used his single magical power, the ability to feel the emotions of mere mortals, to reveal a secret that led to the death of his dearest friend. The Guardians punished Niclas with a blood curse, making it impossible for him to sleep until he found a way to remedy his crime. Three years of suffering had passed before the way had been found, and in making everything right Niclas had gained far more than sweet slumber. He had also found his unoliaeth, the one who had been fated to him, and he and Julia had now been married for five blissful years. “But this is a test, and tests are held to far different standards. Apart from that, if Morcar manages to leash the power of the cythraul, there’s little the Guardians, or anyone else, could do to touch him.”

  “And you, Cousin,” Niclas said. “Have you had any signs yet? Any hints at all from the spirits?”

  Only about Sarah Tamony, Malachi thought wryly, saying, “No, not yet. It will be soon, however. Even today, perhaps. I woke with a feeling about it. But, now,” he said more firmly, sitting forward in his chair, “before we continue with the invitations, there are two important matters that I wish to speak to you about.”

  Niclas set the invitations aside and looked at him expectantly.

  “First,” Malachi said, “I want you to make some financial preparations for Lady Whiteley. I’m thinking of ending our arrangement and want to make an appropriate settlement on her.”

  “Augusta?” Niclas said with faint surprise. “You wish to break things off after so many years? I always thought the two of you were comfortable with each other.”

  “Perfectly comfortable,” Malachi agreed. “But I believe it would be best to break things off now, before we begin to treat each other like a favorite pair of shoes. I’ll pick out something more personal, of course, but I should like to present her with the papers when I make my visit. Be generous.”

  Niclas nodded. “Of course. Lady Whiteley will be well pleased, though doubtless rather bewildered. But I imagine you’ll be your usual charming self.”

  “I shall do my best,” Malachi vowed. “The second task will require your lovely wife’s help.”

  This time Niclas looked fully surprised. “Julia? How so?”

  “There’s someone particular I wish to be introduced to and would appreciate Julia making the arrangements. I believe she already claims an acquaintance with the woman.”

  “Who is it?” Niclas asked curiously.

  “A widowed lady of gentle birth,” Malachi said. “Mrs. William Speakley.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Are you sure you’re expected, Sarah?” Julius asked, lifting one gloved hand to the heavy door knocker again. “Where are the man’s servants?” Turning on the step, he looked up and down the street. “This is a ramshackle spot for a fellow to house Celtic artifacts. Any number of thieves are probably lurking about, waiting for an opportunity to steal them. Such invaluable antiquities ought to be kept in safer surroundings.”

  Sarah arranged the large purse that was her usual companion during interviews more comfortably on her forearm and pushed her spectacles up. “Most thieves are hoping to find jewels and silver, Jules, not ancient relics that they wouldn’t know how to pawn. I must say, however, that I hadn’t expected a scholar of Professor Seabolt’s authority to live in such a place. And he clearly needs a better gardener.”

  The professor’s overbuilt home, located just outside the city, was a converted Elizabethan inn, fenced in by black iron gates. A small courtyard in front of the dwelling had been left to grow wild, giving the premises a dark and foreboding aspect.

  Impatient, Julius turned about and grasped the knocker again, just as the door was opened.

  They both took an involuntary step back a
t the sight before them; a slender, bent youth in ill-fitting garments peered at them from beneath a thick curtain of unkempt black hair. His face was misshapen on one side and he had but one eye on the remaining side. That eye, however, was abnormally large, putting Sarah in mind of drawings she’d seen of Cyclops, the one-eyed monster. The boy’s thin, tilted mouth, when it opened to speak, revealed small, sharp teeth, not dissimilar to a wolf’s.

  “May I help you?” the boy said in a voice that sent shivers down Sarah’s back. She felt Julius’s comforting fingers curl about her arm, drawing her nearer to his solid warmth.

  “We are seeking Professor Harris Seabolt,” he said. “Do we have the correct address?”

  Sarah could scarce blame her brother for sounding so hopeful that they might be mistaken. The boy’s one eye, as black as his hair, stared at them in an unfriendly, piercing manner.

  “This is the professor’s home,” he replied, markedly hissing each “s.” The dark eye moved from Julius to Sarah, where it lingered. “May I ask who is calling?”

  Sarah felt it then: the whispering sensation that told her magic was present. She had expected to have the feeling while visiting Professor Seabolt, for she knew he was deeply involved in the supernatural, but this feeling was coming from quite another, very unexpected source.

  The boy was not mere mortal—or even fully human. She knew that the same magical beings that had long ago bred with magic mortals had also taken mere mortals as mates, but with a far less pleasing outcome. Those creatures who retained enough of their faint human heritage could pass for human, or near enough, and move in the world of men, as this one did, if Sarah’s suspicions about him were correct. Whatever he was, he most certainly possessed magic and, unlike the magic that Sarah had felt at Glain Tarran, it was of the dark variety.

  Julius had removed a card from his pocket and placed it in the boy’s remarkably long-fingered hand. His nails, Sarah noted, were as pointed as his teeth.

  “I am Julius Tamony, and this is my sister, Miss Sarah Tamony. She has an appointment with Professor Seabolt.”

  The servant eyed the card and made a soft hissing sound.

  “Please be so good as to come in,” he said, slipping the card into the pocket of his grimy shirt. The black eye gleamed as it focused on them once more. He limped back, one leg being shorter than the other, and with the talonlike fingers indicated that they should enter.

  Sarah both felt and heard Julius draw in a deep breath before he guided her forward. The interior of the house, far different from the exterior, was comfortingly clean and well-ordered. The floors and furniture in the entryway shone with fresh polish and the lamps overhead put off a cheerful light.

  “If you’ll wait a moment,” the boy said, managing a slight bow, “I’ll inform the professor of your presence.”

  He limped away and Julius at last released his grip on Sarah’s arm.

  “What the devil is Seabolt doing letting a servant like that open his door? My God, it’s enough to frighten Wellington into heart palpitations. Only imagine some unsuspecting female arriving to have that creature facing her down. The screams would be heard all the way to Whitechapel.”

  Sarah couldn’t help but laugh at her elder brother’s fierce—and shaken—affront. He was normally so calm and unflappable, usually to the point of aggravation.

  “It’s not as bad as all that,” she countered soothingly, patting his arm.

  “It’s worse,” Julius muttered angrily. “Such unfortunates shouldn’t be allowed out where they might be seen by the general public. Surely there are sufficient sanitariums for the likes of that boy. I shall say something about it to Seabolt.”

  “Oh no, Jules, please don’t,” Sarah pleaded, knowing what a mistake it would be. That boy, or creature, shouldn’t be contended with by a mere mortal. Why Professor Seabolt kept a dark servant in his employ was a mystery, but she supposed he was sympathetic to the sorrows and difficulties of all magic beings and had taken the creature in out of kindness. “For all that his appearance is frightening, it’s obvious the boy is intelligent.” As all magic beings were, she thought wryly. “His manner of speech was refined, if a bit odd. It would be unfair to judge him merely by his outer form. He must be capable of serving Professor Seabolt quite ably.”

  Julius wasn’t swayed. “He should not be answering the door,” he stated flatly.

  “Yes, that’s so,” she agreed in placating tones. “But it’s Professor Seabolt’s home, and his decision as to who he has in his employ and what their tasks are. And you’re not even an invited guest,” she reminded her glowering brother. “It would be rude beyond reason to lecture him about his choice of servants.”

  The words appeared to calm Julius; his stiff posture relaxed a fraction. “Very well. There’s sense in that. I’ll say nothing. But my estimation of Seabolt as a man of reason and intelligence has slipped somewhat.”

  “That’s because you’re a terrible snob, dear,” Sarah said, pushing her spectacles up and smiling up at him.

  A door opened at the far end of the hall and a short, round, bespectacled gentleman emerged, rapidly making his way toward them. He was covered by a large apron, which in turn was covered by a great deal of dust, and his round face, framed by untrimmed side-whiskers, was filled with a mixture of chagrin, alarm, and exasperation.

  “Please forgive me, Miss Tamony,” said the man as he hurried onward. “What a fright Tego must have given you. I do apologize. And Mr. Tamony, how delightful that you’ve come as well. I’m terribly sorry that you should arrive at my home and be received in such a manner. Tego is never to answer the door.” Extending an arm, he grasped Julius’s hand and gave it a firm shake. To Sarah he made a quick bow. To Tego, who had shuffled behind him, he cast a stern glance and repeated, “Never.”

  “I apologize, Professor,” Tego said contritely. His head was lowered so that the black hair fell over his misshapen face, hiding his expression. “Mrs. Keller wasn’t expecting visitors and was engaged directing Cook about dinner, and none of the others seemed to hear the knocker. I didn’t know what else to do. I’ll not do it again, I promise.”

  Sarah managed to keep her smile from wavering. She had a good idea what, or who, had stopped anyone else from hearing them at the door but had little time to consider the matter. Professor Seabolt must be dealt with before he said anything to make Julius suspicious.

  “I’m sorry to have come upon you so unexpectedly, Professor,” she said cheerfully. “I realize I’m a bit early, but I was so eager to speak with you that I couldn’t delay coming. If there’s any fault in this matter, it’s mine.”

  Professor Seabolt gazed at her with dismay. “I’m afraid there’s been a mis—”

  “Oh dear, and I should have more formally introduced my brother.” Sarah waved a hand at Julius, who had removed his hat and was making a bow. “He wished to speak to you about your collection of Celtic artifacts. Professor Seabolt, my brother, Mr. Julius Tamony. Julius, Professor Seabolt.”

  “A pleasure, sir,” Julius said with polite correctness. “I shall not interrupt your interview with my sister, I promise.”

  “But, Miss Tamony,” the professor said, looking from one to the other, “I sent you a missive—”

  “Regarding our meeting. Yes, I received it.” Sarah moved forward and tucked her hand under the professor’s arm, forcibly moving him back down the hall. “It was good of you to go to the trouble to send me a reminder. I don’t know if you’re familiar with my brother’s work”—she cast a glance at Julius, who was following behind with Tego trailing, “but he’s extensively researched Celtic history and has written a fascinating treatise on the subject. It’s to be published at the end of the summer.”

  “Well, yes, I had heard something about his work,” the professor said, his voice thick with confusion. “Indeed, I was only just speaking with Professor Price about it the other day—”

  “Professor Oswald Price?” Julius asked, catching up to them just as Sarah, who h
ad no idea where she was going, brought Professor Seabolt to a halt. “Of the Antiquities Society?”

  “Just so,” said Professor Seabolt. “The publisher asked him to read your manuscript before they agreed to publish it. He was extraordinarily enthusiastic about your work, Mr. Tamony. I must say, I’ve never heard him speak in such glowing terms. I was quite taken aback, for he is the most reserved of gentleman.”

  “Sir!” was the only word Julius could manage to say.

  Beneath the younger man’s stunned awe, the professor warmed to the topic. “And I can tell you this, Mr. Tamony: Professor Price gave you the highest compliment I have ever heard from him. He said that your manuscript is work equal to your father’s best, and that, as I need not tell you, is high praise indeed.”

  Julius was bereft of speech. He set a hand over his heart and stared.

  “It’s quite true,” the professor assured him. “He’s made me all eagerness to read this wondrous work of yours. Indeed he has.” He looked at Sarah and nodded. “He has.”

  “I can well imagine,” she replied. “And so you understand, Professor, why my brother is so eager to see the collection of Celtic artifacts that you have in your possession, and how grateful he would be if you would allow him the privilege.”

  “Of a certainty I shall,” Professor Seabolt assured the still-speechless Julius. “I’d be honored if he would take a look at the lot and give me his opinion. I can’t think you’ll be disappointed, sir,” he said, leaning closer to Julius and speaking in confiding tones, “for I’ve been most fortunate in securing some very fine and well-preserved examples of Celtic pottery and adornments, also some weapons, which you’ll doubtless find most interesting.”

  “I—” Julius began, then fell speechless once more.

  “Come!” the professor said with sudden eagerness. “We’ll go have a look at them now.”

  He led them down another hall, to a pair of double doors. Pulling a key chain from a pocket behind the apron, he unlocked these and opened them wide.