“Yes,” she replied, smiling tentatively. “We’re to stay until the end of summer.”
“I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you about Town, then, Miss Tamony. Is this your book?” Bending, he retrieved the volume she’d dropped. Reading the title, he frowned before holding it out to her. What a ridiculous thing for a young woman, or anyone, to read. Morcar was by no means given to much reading, but he knew a good book when he saw one.
Philistia Tamony took note of his brief disapproval.
“No, not at all,” she said quickly. “I hadn’t really decided.” She slid the volume back into its place. “I don’t suppose, my lord, that you might recommend something to me? I have such difficulty making a choice with so many before me.”
As it happened, Morcar had just finished a novel that he had found quite acceptable, and as it was located closer to the history section, he held out his arm and replied, “I do, Miss Tamony, and would be pleased to escort you to its location. Unless you’ve read it already? The Fortunes of Nigel, by Scott?”
She looked at his arm as if it might bite her and gingerly set her tiny gloved hand upon it.
“N-no, my lord, I haven’t. But if you recommend it, I’m certain that I shall like it very much.”
Julius Tamony was everything Serafina had hoped for. They stood very close between the bookcases in the history section, so close that their bodies almost touched, and she gazed into his handsome face, half-listening as he spoke, envisioning how pleasant it would be when they first lay together. She’d never had a man who wore spectacles before. Thinking of how she would take them off made her feel even more aroused. She’d never had a scholar, either, come to that. Perhaps he would speak Latin as he made love to her. Perhaps she would make him.
He was enchanted by her, of course, and utterly beneath her spell. But every man was. Serafina made it thus. Julius Tamony had fallen harder than most, but that was because he was somewhat inexperienced with women, also because he dreamed, as so many did, of someday finding his one true love. This dream woman would be a female who needed him, who would make him feel powerful and masculine. Mere mortals always seemed to long for that feeling, to be needed, to be vital to someone else’s happiness. Perhaps it was because they didn’t possess other powers, as magic mortals did. Serafina was more than happy to fulfill their foolish desires, so long as they fulfilled hers, though she found playing the part of a childish, helpless female trying at times. It was only the knowledge that she would soon be able to put all such pretense behind that made it bearable.
He’d been shaking so hard when she’d first approached that Serafina had nearly thought he’d be incapable of speech, but when she’d cast him the comforting safety line of history, he’d readily grasped it. And had kept clinging throughout their conversation, so that she’d heard more of the Celts and Druids than she’d ever cared to.
“A simpler approach,” Julius Tamony was saying, “might be to begin with the history of Britain—there are a number of excellent works which you’ll not find too taxing—and thereafter move on to more challenging subjects, such as a concentrated treatise on the Roman occupation or, perhaps more suitable than that, the Viking incursions. Those are particularly interesting, I believe, and more readily engage the mind. If these prove too difficult or seem to weary you too quickly, I might recommend starting with something by Gibbon—”
“Everything you speak of sounds so wonderful, Mr. Tamony,” Serafina said, careful to make the voice as silly and adoring as possible. “I wish I could understand such matters as easily as you do. When I listen to you, I know just how foolish I am in wanting to learn about matters that are so far above my limited understanding.” She drew nearer, gazing up at him worshipfully. “If only I had someone like you to answer all my questions, I should be very happy. I do want to broaden my knowledge, but it can be so difficult.”
He looked at her with the kind of helplessness that Serafina found particularly attractive in a man.
“I should be glad to do anything that you asked of me, Miss Daray,” he vowed. “Anything at all to relieve your worries.”
“Would you, Mr. Tamony?” she asked. She had to make certain that he gave her his agreement of his own free will. Only then would she be able to make the spells she placed upon him binding. “You’re such a kind gentleman that I think perhaps you only mean to be polite.”
“Not at all,” he countered firmly. “Only tell me what you desire, Miss Daray, and I shall do it. I swear upon my honor that I speak the truth.”
She smiled. That was perfect. He had said the words aloud and had meant them. The Guardians would have no argument about what happened to him at her hands. How delightfully chivalrous Englishmen were, she thought with pleasure. It was bred in them from centuries past, an unfortunate part of their heritage that made them terribly vulnerable to the likes of her.
“Would you come home with me, Mr. Tamony?” she asked, reaching out to slip a hand into his own much larger one. “Now? Without question? Without a moment’s hesitation?” She could feel it there within him—a sense of stubbornness that she would have to overcome. Surely he wouldn’t worry about the cousin now? The girl was old enough to find her own way home. But that was part of that damnable chivalry. Serafina hated to place a spell upon him so soon, here in Hookham’s, but it seemed impossible to avoid. “I have so many questions to ask of you,” she went on, putting a particularly helpless note into her tone. “So many matters I must have explained to me by someone of your greater knowledge. I know that you can help me to understand, if only you will.”
Serafina looked at him longingly, willing him to go away with her. She pressed her free hand against his elegantly crafted coat, at the same time squeezing the other hand lightly.
“Come with me now, Julius,” she murmured in her own voice, far lower and more seductive than the childish tone she used in public. “Empty your thoughts of everything and everyone but me. Think only of how greatly I need you, and of how you must take care of me above all others.” Her hand slid upward, curling about his neck to draw his ear to her lips. “Pareome, Julius,” she whispered, then released him.
He straightened, and Serafina saw with satisfaction that the spell had worked.
“We must go now, Julius,” she told him. “Give me your arm and escort me from the premises. I have a carriage waiting just across the street. We will go to it and enter, and then you will do as I say and give no trouble.”
He did exactly as she willed and offered her his arm. There was no mention of his cousin or the tea that he had promised his mother to attend. When they walked out of Hookham’s Lending Library they were watched by several patrons, many of them envious of Julius Tamony, and were escorted, as well, by eager-to-please clerks. But only one individual in the library who watched as they left knew and understood precisely what was transpiring. And that individual, the Earl of Llew, didn’t care about the fate of Miss Philistia Tamony, either.
He had left her to her own devices much earlier, having escorted her to the location of the book he had recommended. Then, bowing and stating that he hoped they would meet again soon, he had taken himself off to a location of the library ideal for listening, with his exceptionally keen ears, to what Serafina had to say to Mr. Julius Tamony.
There had been little of interest. Serafina had displayed the usual lustful behavior that Morcar had known when they’d been lovers. She’d nearly thrown the object of her desire upon the floor and taken him then and there but had restrained herself enough to wisely use a bit of magic and usher the fellow out of the establishment. What she intended to do with him afterward Morcar had no doubt. Julius Tamony would eventually arrive home exhausted but well pleased, also living in blissful ignorance beneath a spell of Serafina’s choosing.
Setting aside the book he’d been pretending to look at, the Earl of Llew decided that it was time to depart. He walked to the doors and bid the clerk there to signal his coachman. A few moments later His Lordship’s elegant eq
uipage pulled up to the curb and he was being ushered out to the pavement.
Just as the door to his carriage was opened, Lord Llew heard his name being called. He recognized the pleading voice at once and, though he would have far preferred scowling, fixed a polite smile on his face before he turned.
“Miss Tamony,” he said as she hurried up to him. “What a pleasant surprise.”
She clearly found nothing to be pleased about. Her plain face was stricken with concern and her large brown eyes were filled with fear. She set a hand in his and gripped it tightly.
“My lord, please, will you help me?”
“Of course, Miss Tamony. Whatever is the matter?”
She cast searching glances down either side of the street, then gazed back at him pleadingly. Her voice, when she spoke, was a quavering whisper.
“My cousin has left without me,” she said, so faintly that Morcar was obliged to lean closer to hear what she said. The words, once he understood, were spoken in such a way that he was left in no doubt about her terror of abandonment.
“Are you quite certain, Miss Tamony?”
She nodded and looked as if she might start weeping in earnest. “Yes, my lord. The clerk told me so.”
It required an effort on Morcar’s part not to smile. Serafina had known about the little cousin and had purposefully allowed Mr. Tamony to play the cad in abandoning his helpless relative. It would serve the fellow right if Morcar took the girl home and ruined her, but that was likely what Serafina had hoped for. Not that it would be the Earl of Llew, of course, but that Miss Tamony would find herself forced into the care of strangers. Or at least suffer a terrible fright. There was always a measure of amusement to be had in the misery of mere mortals. He and Serafina had understood that, even if the sainted Seymours didn’t.
Morcar was torn about what to do. He’d not had a woman in several days, and though he didn’t find the girl appealing, Morcar had no doubt that once she was lying naked on his bed he’d discover her attractions sufficient for his needs.
There was a pressure on his fingers that drew him back to attention. Miss Philistia Tamony was squeezing his hand, gazing up at him. He could feel her slender fingers hard against his own, a silent tension and pleading … and something else.
He knew about fear and loss. And loneliness. He’d held his own personal grief close, seldom sharing it, never caring about anyone else’s. But there was something in Philistia Tamony’s touch that spoke to what he knew.
She recognized it, too.
He looked into her eyes and saw his own hidden fears reflected back at him.
“I’ll take you home,” he said, oddly displeased with the faint uncertainty in his tone. “To your home,” he clarified, which made him even angrier, because of course he meant her home and shouldn’t have had to explain. “Perhaps your cousin will be there. I believe scholars can be somewhat forgetful at times.”
The relief that filled her features gave him a curious sense of comfort.
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “Julius has been so preoccupied of late with his book—he’s a writer as well, you see, like my uncle Alberic and cousin Sarah—and his mind does tend to wander. That must be why he forgot me.”
“I’m certain that’s the cause,” Morcar told her. “But there’s nothing to fear, Miss Tamony. I’ll see you safely to your door.”
“I knew you’d not leave me,” she murmured, gazing at him with gratitude. “I knew you’d help me.”
Of course she did, he thought as he helped her into his carriage. He was a gentleman, after all, and a nobleman. It was his duty to give aid to a lady of gentle birth. If he had other designs on Philistia Tamony and her kin, that had nothing to do with it. And if he had been moved by what he’d felt when she’d appealed to him, that was meaningless, as well.
“My aunt Caroline—Lady Tamony—will be serving tea, my lord,” Philistia said after the carriage began to move. “Would you like to join us? I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to, but my cousin Sarah will be there and I’m sure my aunt would be pleased. And Sarah will be so glad to have an opportunity to speak with someone she so dearly wishes to interview.”
Morcar had been playing the part of an English noble from his birth. It was required of his kind to fit into the world of mere mortals as best they could. He didn’t particularly enjoy taking tea, but he’d done it with élan countless times.
But to take tea with Miss Sarah Tamony would accomplish something that Morcar had only ever dreamed so simple a task could accomplish. It would make Malachi Seymour angry. Very angry.
“How kind of you to invite me, Miss Tamony,” Morcar said with honest pleasure. “I should be delighted.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I can’t tell you how greatly you’ve brightened my day, Lord Llew,” Sarah said to the man sitting beside her cousin on the nearby sofa. He was such a large and muscular man that he took up most of the room, squishing the tiny Philistia into the corner. Sarah had never seen her cousin look so happy. “I’ve had rather a difficult time convincing certain individuals to let me interview them. Your willingness is very welcome.”
The Earl of Llew put his teacup aside. “I can’t imagine why anyone would decline to lend you their aid, Miss Tamony. Your books have proven your talent as a writer, and nearly every family in England has an interesting character or two in their history. The Cadmarans aren’t too proud to let others know something of our past. Indeed, quite the opposite.”
Sarah gazed at him approvingly. “It’s refreshing to hear you say so, my lord. I look forward with great anticipation to hearing about your family’s history, and to writing of it. I’ve already done a bit of research. Do you recall me telling you about Prothinus Cadmaran, Philla?”
Philistia’s eyes lit with the same excitement that she’d shown when Sarah had told her the fascinating story.
“Ah yes, Prothinus,” said the earl. “The disappearing and reappearing exorcist. Of course you know there’s an explanation for his reappearance.” Lord Llew sat forward. “He never actually fell down the well. There had been a great deal of celebration in the village that night—a wedding or some such. Prothinus was drunk, aye, but so were the rest of the villagers. When he disappeared, the rumors began that he’d fallen into the well, but the truth makes a far more interesting tale.”
“You intrigue me, Lord Llew,” Lady Tamony said from her chair near the fire. “Tell us, if you please.”
The earl appeared delighted to do so. He was, Sarah noted, a man who enjoyed being the center of attention. And he was certainly that at present, having utterly charmed not only Sarah and her cousin but also Lady Tamony and Aunt Speakley.
“I should be pleased,” he said. “The truth, then, is this. Old Prothinus became so drunk that he couldn’t find his way to his own dwelling. He wandered, instead, for hours through the dark night, at last coming upon a shelter that he took for his own. Stumbling in, he found what he thought was his bed and lay down upon it, falling fast asleep. In the morning he discovered that he was not in his own home, but had unwittingly gone into a goat shed. Unfortunately for him, the shed was on the property of an elderly witch who didn’t take kindly to trespassers.”
Sarah made a “hmphing” sound, thinking that there was a dismal lack of compassion for trespassers among magic mortals.
“When she found Prothinus there, she was so angry that she turned him into a goat.”
“How dreadful,” Philistia murmured.
“Not at all,” Lord Llew assured her. “For he made a very fine goat, and sired so many kids that he increased the witch’s flock by a goodly number. After three years, she rewarded him by turning him back into a man. And although perhaps I shouldn’t say such a thing among ladies,” His Lordship said with a touch of naughtiness in his tone, “he wasn’t at all happy about it, for he much preferred the company of the goats.”
Sarah and her mother laughed, Aunt Speakley and Philistia blushed hotly, and the Earl of Llew
looked well pleased.
He wasn’t what Sarah had expected. She knew that the Cadmarans were a dark Family—and indeed could feel the immense, dark power emanating from him—and had assumed that the head of that clan would be nasty and unpleasant. But Lord Llew was a man of practiced charm, perfectly refined in manner and speech. And he told a good story. The one about Prothinus was but the latest in the past hour since he’d arrived with Philistia in tow. He had regaled them with stories of famous members of the ton and had them laughing nearly to tears with accounts of various noble scandals. He had a gift for leaving out just enough shocking parts and exaggerating the humorous ones to make the stories delightful, even for the ears of ladies.
Sarah was grateful to Lord Llew as well for being so kind as to bring Philistia home. But Julius’s disappearance, and his inexplicable abandonment of his helpless cousin, baffled her. If he’d left Sarah alone in a shop it would have been a different matter. She was used to taking care of herself without anyone’s aid, but Philistia couldn’t be let out of the house without an escort, else she’d panic, and Julius knew that full well.
“Will you have more tea, Lord Llew?” Sarah offered politely, rising to fill everyone’s cup.
“No, thank you, Miss Tamony,” he said. “I believe I shall be leaving shortly.” He looked toward the door and rose to his feet even as it was opened to admit the Earl of Graymar.
Sarah’s heart gave its familiar leap at the sight of him, and she smiled in happy welcome. He scowled back with a thunderously angry look, then mastered his expression into something less severe as he moved farther into the room.
“Lord Graymar, what a pleasant surprise,” Lady Tamony said, rising and offering him her hand. “We didn’t expect you today, sir, but I’m glad you’ve come.”
“Lady Tamony,” he replied with rigid politeness. “Mrs. Speakley.” He bowed to the beaming woman who was still seated. Turning, he pinned Sarah with an angry glare. “Miss Tamony, and Miss Philistia. I hope I find you all well?”
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