by Mia Marlowe
Cassandra wondered if she was the vivisectionist who helped the Duke of Camden identify and display his “collection” of unusual people. When the woman smiled at her, revealing a set of starkly white teeth, Cassandra was not the least comforted.
“I demand to know why I’ve been brought here against my will,” she said with more confidence than she felt.
“For that, I apologize,” Camden said with unduke-like humility. “However, it was unavoidable if we hoped to forestall any further losses. You simply could not be allowed to roam about London unchecked in your current condition.”
“My current condition?” She was a jilted girl who’d foolishly given her virginity to the wrong man. That was her current condition, and these people could know nothing of it.
The woman in the corner spoke up for the first time. “You, my lovely, are an elemental in the first throes of your power. If we allowed you to pitch another public tantrum, as you obviously did at Almack’s this evening, you might have easily harmed yourself or others. And furthermore—”
The duke held up a hand and the woman fell silent. “First, let me assure you that your family knows where you are and that I have offered you my protection and friendship.”
“We don’t know each other well enough for that. It smacks of impropriety,” Cassandra said primly.
The woman in the corner laughed. The duke, however, did not.
“I assure you, there is nothing improper here. The presence of my sister Lady Easton in my home insures that your reputation will remain intact. During your period of training, and afterward if you like, you will live here. Being one of my wards will undoubtedly elevate you in society’s collective mind and you will benefit from my rank.”
“Check your bearings,” Sterling said softly. “You won’t find many baronet’s daughters receiving this sort of special treatment. You’ll be the belle of every ball.”
“Sterling is right. You will enjoy a mercurial rise among the bon ton,” Camden said. “But you’ll find that those superficial inducements pale compared to the real advantage I offer.”
“And what might that be?”
“A chance to understand yourself. To know who you are and what amazing things you can accomplish,” the duke said expansively. “Am I correct in believing you are confused about that at present?”
She nodded hesitantly.
He leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. “The truth is you’ve been given an enormous gift, Miss Darkin. And it’s not because of anything you’ve done. This is simply the way you were born.” He sat back in his chair and gazed at her with hooded eyes. “You have an affinity for fire, one of the four elements recognized by the ancient world. This ability has now manifested itself and you are faced with a choice.”
“You mean I can rid myself of it?”
He shook his head. “There is no putting the djinn back into the bottle. Flames are as much a part of your essence as the color of your eyes or the way you favor your left hand—steady on, there’s no need for surprise. I’ve been researching you, as I do all individuals who interest me. Take no offense, I pray you.” He waved away her sense of invasion as if it were perfectly normal for a complete stranger to study the details of her life as if she were the proverbial insect specimen. “You will always be a fire mage. That you cannot change. The choice before you is whether you will learn to control your gift or let it control you.”
Cassandra swallowed hard. “That’s very little choice.”
“On the contrary, it’s a life filled with wonder versus one filled with dread. Will you learn to control your power or cower before it, wondering when the next conflagration will break out?”
In the silence that followed, Cassandra was aware of the soft hiss of escaping gas as the fire continued to burn steadily in the grate.
“What do you say, Miss Darkin? Will you accept my friendship and protection? Or shall I send for the carriage to be brought around to take you home?”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I’m nothing to you.”
“On the contrary, everyone who has a unique psychic gift is important to me. But I do take your meaning. Nothing in this world comes freely,” he said darkly. “There is a reason for my generosity and rest assured, there will come a time when you may repay it.”
“Ah, if only the Pied Piper had said as much to the people of Hamlin,” Garret muttered.
The duke glared at him, then turned back to Cassandra. “I will never ask you to do anything with which you feel uncomfortable. Now, what is your decision?”
Cassie felt as if she were hurtling headlong into a dark tunnel, unable to see the end. Unfortunately, it was her future. She didn’t know what awaited her here under the Duke of Camden’s wings, but if she went back to her father’s town house, she knew she’d very likely be the cause of more fires.
And the next time someone she loved might be hurt.
“I accept your offer, Your Grace,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Excellent. But no thanks are required. Bear in mind that you will be repaying me at some point. I now leave you in Vesta LaMotte’s capable hands.” The duke indicated the woman in the corner with an imperious wave of his hand. “She too is a fire mage and has consented to instruct you in the process of harnessing your gift.”
He strode with purpose to the door, and left without a word of farewell.
“Welcome to our happy little band of misfits.” Garret Sterling rose to his feet, took Cassandra’s hand, and pressed a proper kiss to her knuckles. “If you should need me, for whatever reason as you complete your training, I am at your disposal.”
“That’s surprisingly kind, coming from my abductor.”
“And entirely self-serving,” he said with a wink, “but you’ll learn more about that later. Good evening, ladies.”
He bowed first to Miss LaMotte and then, with a wicked grin, to Cassandra.
Once the door closed, Vesta LaMotte swept toward her. “The Duke of Camden told you the truth. He will never require you to do anything which makes you uncomfortable.” She stopped about two feet away and gave Cassandra a searching look. “I, however, will not make that promise.”
Three hours later, sweat was rolling down Cassandra’s brow, though she hadn’t moved from the settee during the entire time. An unlighted candle stood on the low table between her and Vesta. The fire in the grate flared erratically, but the older woman was doing her best to protect it from Cassandra’s intermittent unfocused commands.
“You’re not concentrating,” Vesta accused.
She lifted a hand toward the fireplace and the flames settled from a near inferno to a cheery blaze. Vesta had shielded every combustible object in the room with the exception of the candle. It was necessary since Cassandra was likely to fire off sparks in all directions until she learned to direct her energy more tightly. A light sheen of exertion appeared on Vesta’s cheeks as well.
“Light the candle.”
“I’m trying,” Cassie said through clenched teeth. She’d started so many accidental fires over the past few weeks. Why was it so difficult to cause one on purpose?
“Don’t think so hard,” Vesta advised. “Just feel it. Close your eyes and see the flame in your mind. Bright. Hot. A dancing tongue of light. Ah! There you have it.”
Cassie opened her eyes and found the candle burning cheerily. It pleased her more than it should have. “Did I do that?”
“Of course. I never cheat on my students. I save that for my lovers,” she said with an enigmatic smile. “Now, put it out.”
Cassandra frowned at the candle, but it continued to burn. “I can’t do this,” she muttered.
“You’re right.”
Cassie sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “If I’m so powerless, why am I here?”
“That’s a question you have to answer for yourself. However, whether a person thinks they can or cannot do something, they are generally right. Thinking is what makes it so. You don’t think yo
u can do it.” Vesta shrugged eloquently. “Therefore, you can’t.”
“So if I change my mind…”
“You change your outcome.”
Cassie closed her eyes and visualized reaching out with her thoughts to pinch off the small flame.
“Brava, darling. Well done.”
A light scent assailed her nostrils and Cassandra opened her eyes to see smoke curling from the wick.
“Thought is more powerful than all the armies amassed by mankind,” Vesta explained. “Which is why you’ll find we spend the lion’s share of our training time here at Camden House learning to control our own minds. If you’re scatter-witted, you can’t affect anything. At least, not on purpose.”
Cassandra took a handkerchief from her reticule and pressed it to her sweat-dampened cheeks and forehead. “Who knew thinking was such hard work?”
Vesta chuckled, but then her expression turned serious. “You’ve completed the first lesson, the act of calling fire from the air and sending it back. So far, so good, though I warn you this is the easiest skill in a fire mage’s repertoire. The first you’ll acquire, the last you’ll lose. I have high hopes for you and your abilities. However, there is another element to your gift which we have yet to address.”
“And that is?”
“The sensual component,” Vesta said with frankness. “You began manifesting shortly after surrendering your purity and—”
“Hold a moment. How can you be sure of that?”
Vesta cast a knowing smile. “Because I experienced the same thing as a young woman. The first sexual encounter is the trigger which sets our gift in motion. When a fire has been ignited in one part of our being, the affinity for flames is called forth in all parts of us.” She poured two glasses of wine from the decanter on the side table and handed one to Cassie, who sipped gratefully. “Now, there are some things you probably already know. I’m sure you’ve experienced an increased hunger for all things sensual.”
Cassie nearly choked on the wine. “I beg your pardon!”
“Don’t play coy with me, Miss Darkin. It will not serve you well. A fire mage is an intensely sexual elemental. Our need for intimacy is far greater than that of most women. Or most men, for that matter. Unless you’re singularly adept at self-gratification, you must find a partner who is willing to help you focus your energy.” Vesta swirled the wine in her glass, inhaled its perfume, and then knocked back the entire contents as if she were a dockworker with his pint. “I take it the gentleman to whom you lost your virginity is not a candidate for the position.”
Roddy’s offer to set her up as his light-o-love once he wed Lady Sylvia rose in her mind and the candle before her roared to life again.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Vesta refilled her wineglass and sipped this one with more restraint. “Fortunately, Garret Sterling has volunteered to help you in this regard.”
“I’ll just bet he has.”
“Truly, it’s a magnanimous offer. One with your unique gift has unique needs. The man will have a Herculean task before him. Once I have a talk with him about what will be most helpful to you, I’ll send him to your chamber this evening. That way you can get a good night’s sleep and be ready to work in the morning.”
Cassie set down her glass, still more than half-full. She was accustomed to watered wine. She was used to being overprotected and thought virtuous. If Vesta LaMotte had her way, Cassie would be well on her way to becoming a Cyprian of the first water.
“You don’t understand. I’m a good girl. My parents expect me to marry. I can’t enter into some tawdry arrangement with someone whom I do not love and cannot in good conscience hope to wed.”
“But you could give yourself to some dolt who’s thrown you over and left you to deal with your condition on your own.” Vesta’s shrewd face softened and she looked almost kind. “I know, lovie. That sounds cruel, but believe me, I’m only being truthful. The sooner you understand and accept your situation, the better off you’ll be.”
“He didn’t know.” She felt honor bound to defend Roderick. “The man who…well, he couldn’t know that I…that this is what would become of me.”
“Perhaps not, but he jilted you all the same. If you weren’t a fire mage, would your predicament be all that different? You are soiled. If your lover is the sort to kiss and tell, in the eyes of Polite Society, you are ruined.”
Cassandra had no answer.
Vesta leaned across the table between them and took both of Cassie’s hands in hers. “The life you conceived for yourself is over. Oh, there will still be routs and balls and all the trimmings of a Season. Your stay here as the duke’s ward will ensure that, though we can’t allow you to accept the invitations that will come pouring in until you have your gift well under control. But you will never be the same debutante running hot in the husband hunt again.”
Cassie frowned at her. “You make my life sound so frivolous.”
“That’s because it is. It was. You may safely give up plans to wed some lord and preside over a proper household. It is never going to happen. You’re not meant for that life.”
Keeping Roderick’s house, bearing his children, growing old with him… That had been her dream. The arrival of Lady Sylvia in Roddy’s circle had driven a stake into the heart of it. Vesta stuffed the remains into a coffin and nailed the lid shut.
“Besides, the new life you’ve been called to is ever so much more exciting than that,” Vesta tried to assure her.
“You never married?” Cassandra asked.
“I was never seriously tempted…more than once. No, I decided to use my sexual nature to take control of my own destiny and my own person. I have been a courtesan since I was eighteen and while I’m frequently seen in the company of several men in public, the actual number of my patrons over the years is relatively small.” She inspected her red lacquered nails. “I tend to keep and cultivate gentlemen for my uses, you see. Training a man to service a fire mage requires an exceptional commitment of time. Not to mention stamina. So naturally, I’m choosy about whom I initiate into my world.”
Cassandra shook her head. Everything she’d been taught had been turned on its head. But one thing was still certain. If only she’d remained chaste, none of this would have happened. Her cheeks burned.
“Now, off to your chamber.” Vesta rang the bell pull and a maid appeared in the doorway. “Hesper will show you to your room. Get ready for bed. I’ll send Garret to you shortly.”
“And he’ll find my door locked,” Cassie promised and flounced away, as much as one could be said to flounce at two in the morning. No matter that Vesta said he could help her keep from starting unintended fires, nothing would induce her to take Garret Sterling as her lover. It wasn’t that he was so terrible. In fact, he was as frustratingly attractive a man as Cassie had ever met. But she didn’t love him. Giving herself to him would mean surrendering everything she believed about herself and her place in the world. She wasn’t ready to raise the white flag on her dreams.
She’d rather burn Camden House to the ground.
Chapter Five
Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm…
It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.
—Song of Solomon 8:6-7
Despite Cassandra’s rigorous fire-mage training, His Grace decided that she also needed to be seen about town since the Season was still in full spate. So two days later, Garret was squiring her and the duke’s sister to the newly opened Dulwich Picture Gallery. Lady Easton preceded Garret and Cassandra through the gated entrance.
“I’m quite invigorated over the prospect of seeing the works by John Constable on exhibit. I do so adore his landscapes,” the duke’s sister said before disappearing into the museum.
Garret figured it didn’t matter that she’d abandoned Cassandra to his charge at this point. Lady Easton’s primary function was to serve as chaperone while Garret and Cassie traveled by coach across town to the gallery. Now that they�
�d arrived at their destination, no one would question Lady Easton wandering to her heart’s content while Garret shepherded the neophyte fire mage about on her first public outing since her training began. The all-seeing eyes of Polite Society would assure that the proprieties were observed. Garret’s specific assignment, aside from seeing that Cassandra suffered no harm by gossips from time spent in his company, was to make certain the gallery wasn’t a smoldering ruin by the time he and Cassandra left.
Garret handed his topper and garrick to the servant at the door. Then he helped Cassie by divesting her of her pelisse. With her hair in an upswept do, the cut of her pink gown was low enough in back to bare her nape and the tiny curls that dangled along her hairline. His soft palate ached to press a string of baby kisses just there, but despite Vesta’s encouragement to the contrary, she’d adamantly refused his sensual attention for the past week.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” he asked.
“I’m fully capable of refraining from igniting those who displease me if that’s what’s troubling you,” Cassandra snapped. “Though if I change my mind, I must warn you that you are first on my list.”
“I can’t imagine why.” With a gentle hand to the small of her back, he guided her into the first long gallery where new works were displayed. “All I’ve done is offer to help you.”
Vesta had explained the sensual needs of a fire mage with thoroughness. Sexual release was necessary to bleed off some of the excess power and fire. From the looks of Cassandra’s tightly lipped mouth, she struggled for control of her gift, but when Garret had presented himself at her chamber door each evening, he’d found it locked.
“How very altruistic of you,” she said softly enough for his ears alone. “Your penchant for self-sacrifice is impressive.”
“I never claimed I wouldn’t enjoy the process.”
Color crept up her neck. Deep in her amber eyes, he thought he saw flames dancing.
“Can we please change the subject?” she asked, knotting her fingers together and holding them before her like a be-gloved fig leaf. “What do you think of this landscape?”