Halloween Magic

by Sandra Heath

At the castle the following morning, Verity insisted on getting up, even though the doctor had instructed her not to, and Anna did all she could to dissuade her. The riding habit, although dried and cleaned after the fall, wasn’t suitable for sitting around in, so Anna insisted on providing her with a morning gown from her own wardrobe.

  It was a very fashionable confection of flimsy black-spotted white muslin, with a ruff at the throat and flounces around the hem. The full sleeves were gathered prettily at the wrists, and the high waistline was marked by a thin red velvet belt with a gold buckle. Anna’s maid dressed her hair up into a Grecian knot trimmed with red ribbons, and all in all Verity had to concede that she looked very well indeed.

  When the maid had gone, Verity gazed at her reflection in the cheval glass and wondered what her London wardrobe would be like. She didn’t know Amabel Sichester all that well, having only met her a few times, but on those occasions she had thought Lady Sichester’s daughter very à la mode indeed. Verity couldn’t help hoping as much thought had been put into her wardrobe as Amabel would have put into her own!

  Verity went to the window to look out over the park toward the village, but then she heard a man’s footsteps approaching the door. She turned in dismay, for she didn’t doubt it was Nicholas. He knocked, and she sat down quickly on the window seat, arranging her skirts and clasping her hands in her lap in what she hoped was a relaxed manner. Then she answered, “Come in.”

  As he came in, she saw he wore a plain charcoal coat, a blue brocade waistcoat, and white cord trousers that vanished into gold-tasseled Hessian boots. His unstarched neckcloth sported a gold pin in the shape of the Montacute phoenix, and it shone in the light from the window as he paused to sketch her a bow.

  Guilt seized him in those first few seconds. He still didn’t understand what had happened to him during the night, and he hadn’t said a word to either Oliver or Anna. Maybe he had dreamed the whole damned business after all! All he knew for certain was that for a while he had believed this enchanting young woman had come to him. In the end he’d known she hadn’t, but while the illusion concerned Verity, it had been the most exquisitely pleasurable experience of his life.

  The more he thought about it this morning, the more convinced he was that it had all been a trick of sleep—a manifestation of his deepest sexual yearnings! It was the only rational explanation.

  He closed the door. “Good morning, Miss Windsor,” he murmured, looking directly into her eyes.

  “G-good morning, Lord Montacute.”

  “I, er, think we should talk, don’t you?”

  She looked away. “There’s nothing to say, my lord.”

  “How can you say that?”

  Her cheeks warmed awkwardly. “Perhaps what I’m saying is that I’d prefer to say nothing, sir.”

  “You wish to forget what happened at the mill?”

  Her face was on fire. “Yes.”

  “That’s easier said than done.”

  “But not impossible.” She kept gazing steadfastly out of the window, “I—I’d regard it as a mark of your honor if you were to put the whole incident entirely from your mind.”

  “And I’d regard it as a mark of my dishonor if that were to happen,” he replied quietly.

  Her eyes flew unwillingly back to him. “Please, Lord Montacute ...”

  He interrupted. “Miss Windsor, I was the one who instigated events at the mill. I took advantage of the situation, and I’m truly sorry, but I can’t possibly put it from my mind.”

  She rose slowly to her feet. “Let’s be strictly honest here, sir. You may have instigated things, but I did absolutely nothing to discourage you. I abandoned modesty completely, and if my uncle were to discover how I behaved ...” She couldn’t finish, for her uncle’s reaction didn’t bear contemplation.

  He wanted to touch her, but remained where he was by the door. “Is that really why you regret what happened? Because of your uncle’s disapproval?”

  “Yes. No. Well, partly. Oh, I don’t know ...” She toyed nervously with her sleeve. “Lord Montacute, we both behaved lamentably, and I really do want to consign all thought of it to the past, so I’d be most grateful if you obliged me by—”

  “I can’t do that, Miss Windsor,” he interposed quietly.

  “Why not?”

  He plunged into the wonderful green depths of her eyes. “Because I don’t want to forget what happened. I enjoyed every moment I spent with you yesterday, and if the same opportunity were to present itself again, I’d repeat every action.”

  She stared at him.

  He held her eyes. “I don’t know what it is about you, but since my return I’ve found myself unable to think of anyone else. I want to hold you close again now, and if you only knew how difficult it is for me to stand here and not even touch you...”

  “You—you shouldn’t say such things, my lord,” she whispered.

  The yards separating them seemed like miles, and yet he knew he could cross them in a single step.... With a huge effort he stayed by the door. “I know I shouldn’t say anything, but I’m being truthful. I find you the most bewitching creature I’ve ever met, and I desire you with all my heart.”

  “Please—”

  “Tell me you don’t feel the same. Tell me you felt nothing when I kissed you yesterday, and I’ll leave this room without another word.”

  She looked away. “You should leave anyway, Lord Montacute,” she said quietly.

  “My name is Nicholas.”

  “I couldn’t possibly address you so familiarly!”

  “Not even after yesterday’s intimacies?”

  She felt her hard-achieved poise beginning to slip inexorably away. “You’re not being fair,” she whispered.

  “I know.” He went toward her at last, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. “You affect me as no other woman ever has, Verity, and I just want you to admit that I affect you as well.”

  “You—you know you do ...”

  She tried to pull her hand away, but his fingers tightened. Her perfume seemed to fill his nostrils, and her eyes were so compellingly attractive that he found himself bending his lips toward hers.

  “No!” she cried, drawing sharply away, but he still held her, and after a moment she stopped struggling. “Please, don’t,” she pleaded softly.

  “I must, Verity,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers.

  She closed her eyes as her senses betrayed her again. Waves of tantalizing attraction tingled through her, and as he kissed her more lingeringly, her mouth softened helplessly beneath his.

  With a moan he slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her more passionately. Her lips parted, and she shivered with pleasure as the tip of his tongue slid slowly against hers.

  She abandoned all pretense, suddenly linking her arms around his neck and kissing him with the same fervor as the day before. She molded her body to his and was rewarded by the hard mound at his loins. Forbidden pleasure stole through her veins, delicious pleasure that tightened her breasts and ached between her legs.

  Her fingers curled yearningly in his hair as she leaned her head back for him to kiss her throat. She felt his fingers brush her nipple through the thin muslin of her borrowed gown, and more pleasure swept unstoppably through her.

  His lips were gentle on her neck, and he pressed her more tightly against his erection. Desire throbbed urgently through him. He wanted her, oh, God, how he wanted her....

  Suddenly the door opened behind them, and Joshua’s outraged voice bellowed a furious exclamation. “What is the meaning of this?”

  They leapt apart as if stung and turned to see him standing there with Oliver and Anna. Verity could have wept with mortification. It had been bad enough to fall by the wayside in the privacy of the mill, but to have done so all over again in front of others was awful beyond belief.

  Nicholas was equally dismayed. The fire of passion died instantly away, and he closed his eyes for a moment. How on earth was he going to explain this away? H
e managed to find his voice. “Mr. Windsor, I, er...”

  But Joshua was beside himself with rage. “Don’t attempt to excuse your monstrous conduct, sir, for there cannot be any mitigating circumstances!” he advanced into the room, brandishing the ivory-handled cane he always took with him when traveling.

  Seeing that he intended to strike Nicholas, Oliver stepped hastily after him and caught his wrist. “That’s not the way, sir!”

  “Let me at the blackguard!” Joshua cried.

  Verity dissolved into tears, hiding her ashamed face in her hands and turning away from everyone.

  Joshua strove to wrench free of Oliver’s restraining grip. “I will punish him!” he shouted.

  Oliver relieved him of the cane. “Words are a wiser weapon, Mr. Windsor,” he said firmly.

  Joshua took a steadying breath and at last mastered himself sufficiently to look more rationally at Nicholas. “Well, sirrah? What do you have to say?”

  “I realize my actions are less than acceptable, sir, but—”

  “Less than acceptable? They’re damned well contemptible!” Joshua cried.

  “Your anger is justified, sir.”

  “You’re a scurvy cur, Lord Montacute! A base scoundrel without any morals or principles!”

  Oliver was appalled. “I say, sir, can’t we keep the insults to a more becoming minimum?” he suggested tentatively.

  But Joshua wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable. He held Nicholas’s eyes. “You and I both know why your present conduct is particularly despicable, sir. I have as low an opinion of you as it is possible to have, and if you touch my niece again, so help me I’ll call you out!”

  Verity turned with a horrified cry. “Uncle Joshua!”

  “Silence, miss!”

  “But—”

  “Enough!” he shouted.

  Tears shimmered on her lashes, and she fell silent. She had never seen him like this before. He was quite beside himself with passion, and his personal hatred for Nicholas was so evident that it was almost written on his face.

  Oliver ventured to pour oil on the troubled waters. “Perhaps we gentlemen should adjourn to the solar, and leave Anna to comfort Miss Windsor?” he suggested, glancing at his wife.

  But Joshua was having none of it. “My niece isn’t going to remain beneath this iniquitous roof a moment longer! Come, Verity!”

  “But, Uncle, I—”

  “Come!”

  She flinched and without another word gathered her skirts to hurry from the room. She halted in confusion in the passage to look back at Anna. “Your gown ...”

  “Send it to me. I’ll have your things sent to the village,” Anna said gently, putting a sympathetic hand on her arm.

  Joshua glowered at Nicholas a moment longer. “You, sirrah, are a stain on the rank of nobleman. It seems there is no depth to which you will not stoop in the pursuit of your selfish pleasures, but you will not embroil my innocent niece in your depravities, d’you hear?”

  Nicholas didn’t trust himself to reply. Joshua was justified in his anger, and the moment was hardly appropriate to try sweet reason. Better to leave tempers to cool, his own included.

  Joshua stomped from the room, snatching his cane from Oliver as he passed and then ushering Verity ignominiously along the passage and down the staircase. Oliver hurried after them, feeling that someone should observe what was left of the usual courtesies.

  Verity had never felt more humiliated and ashamed. Her cheeks were aflame, and more tears began to wend their way from her eyes. This was the most dreadful moment of her whole life, and she would never live it down. Never.

  Keeping her head bowed, she hurried ahead of her uncle to the courtyard, where his chaise was waiting. She climbed inside without waiting for one of Nicholas’s footmen to assist her, and then she lowered the blind and turned her face away as Oliver helped Joshua in behind her.

  A second later the whip cracked, and the chaise drove smartly out of the courtyard, across the lowered drawbridge, and then through the park toward the lodge and phoenix-topped gates.

  * * *

  Anna faced Nicholas in Verity’s bedroom. “Why did you do it, Nicholas?”

  “Because I want her.”

  “Want?”

  “Desire, need, long for! How else can I say it?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I notice the word ‘love’ doesn’t figure,” she murmured.

  He fell silent.

  “Nicholas, Verity Windsor isn’t a common whore, she’s a properly brought-up young lady who’s about to have her first London Season! You can’t treat her like a strumpet!”

  “I didn’t!”

  “From where I was standing that’s exactly what you were doing,” Anna replied sharply. “What on earth possessed you? You knew her uncle was going to be brought here when he returned from Ludlow!”

  “Joshua Windsor was the last person on my mind.”

  “That was obvious enough.”

  “Anna, you don’t understand ...”

  “You’re right, I certainly don’t.” She searched his face. “There’s a great deal I haven’t understood about you recently, Nicholas.”

  He stiffened a little. “If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, I’d rather you saved your breath. You don’t know the half of it, and I don’t intend to enlighten you, so the whole thing’s better left.”

  “Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you? I mean, heaven forfend that, romantically or morally, Nicholas Montacute might be in the wrong!”

  “As I said, you don’t know the half of it.”

  “Nor will I ever, unless you elucidate.”

  He shook his head. “No, Anna.”

  “Then I trust you’ll understand if I think the worst of you.”

  “That’s up to you.”

  “And to Oliver,” she answered, “for he thinks the worst as well.”

  “I know.”

  “You can be very aggravating at times, Nicholas.”

  The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “It’s part of my irresistible charm,” he murmured.

  “That’s not how I’d put it,” she said tartly. “And don’t be facetious, for under the circumstances it’s not in the least becoming or amusing!”

  “I’m not the scoundrel I’ve been branded, Anna.”

  “No? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe. After all, I now have the evidence of my own eyes, do I not?”

  He gave another wry smile. “You’d be ill-advised to jump to conclusions about anything, Anna.”

  “I’d like to think that, truly I would, but right now the scales of justice seem to prove your guilt.”

  Anna drew a long breath and adjusted the lace at the cuff of her blue lawn gown. “You were manifestly in the wrong before, Nicholas, and where Verity Windsor is concerned, history does seem to be repeating itself. Please take my advice and leave her alone.”

  “I don’t know whether I can,” he replied softly.

  * * *

  Joshua’s face was like thunder as the chaise drove smartly along the road toward the village. His gloved hands were clasped tightly over the handle of his cane, and he stared straight ahead.

  His heavy silence did nothing to lighten Verity’s misery. She knew she had let him down, indeed she had let herself down by not only allowing Nicholas to make such advances a second time, but by enjoying them a second time too!

  At last Joshua broke the silence. “How could you fail me like this, Verity?”

  She bit her lip and blinked as even more tears stung her eyes. She had nothing to say in defense, for nothing could excuse her weakness.

  “If I hadn’t arrived when I did, you’d have been completely ruined! You do realize that, don’t you?”

  She couldn’t speak.

  “Montacute is an unprincipled monster, and it grieves me to think he so nearly added you to his ignoble list of conquests.”

  She looked intently at him. “What really lies between you and him, Uncle?”
r />   “Nothing I’m at liberty to say.”

  “Uncle—”

  “I don’t intend to speak of it, Verity, nor do I intend to allow you to stay within his reach. We’re going to leave for London without further delay.”

  “Leave? But—”

  “My mind is made up. By this time tomorrow we’ll be on our way.”

  She was shocked. “By this time tomorrow? But we haven’t even begun to pack!”

  “Half the luggage will suffice, the servants can send everything else on. And anyway, your wardrobe awaits you at Dover Street, does it not?” He said this last on a rather odd note, then looked out of the window as the chaise splashed across the ford.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Verity was as ready as she ever would be to set out on the journey. She wore a shell pink lawn gown and a matching frilled pelisse, and her hair was tucked up beneath a leghorn bonnet, with a single ringlet falling down past the nape of her neck. Her face was pale and drawn, and her eyes tearstained, a fact that even the skillful application of her Chinese cosmetic papers couldn’t hide.

  She couldn’t bring herself to go downstairs until the last moment, and so she sat on the edge of her bed to wait. She had forgotten all about the seal and certainly didn’t notice that it was gone from the windows. All she could think about was the awful events of the day before. How she wished none of it had happened, but it was too late now.

  There was a tap at the door, and Martha peeped sadly in. “Mr. Windsor wishes you to come down now, Miss Verity.”

  As Verity rose resignedly to her feet, the nurse came closer and held something out to her. “Take this with you, Miss Verity.”

  Verity stared, for it was the snakestone. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly—” she began.

  “Take it,” Martha interrupted. “And be sure to keep it with you at all times, for it will protect you from all evil.”

  Reluctantly Verity put it around her neck, where its beautifully patterned stone went very well with her shell pink clothes.

  “Promise me you’ll never set it aside, Miss Verity,” Martha pressed anxiously.

  “I promise.” Verity searched her eyes. “But what of you? You were wearing it because you felt in danger.”