She would need a chaperone. Mrs. Weatheringham could play that role. The elderly lady had finally recovered from the shock of losing her talent at her granddaughter Hope’s hands last year. Nevara had been tempted to ask the little girl to perform the same trick for herself . . . until the child’s touch had ended another woman’s life. That disaster had kept Nevara silent. She wished to be rid of her curse, not to end her life.
She scrambled to her feet and rushed to the wash basin. Pouring water into the bowl from a pitcher, she wet a cloth. Unreasonable expectation was the cause of her lifelong miseries. Expecting her aunt to love her, though evil tainted her. Wanting Mark to care about her, even though she was not “normal.”
Since arriving in London, Nevara had devoted her days to being practical. She needed to reclaim that serene persona now. It was how she planned to capture Mark’s affections, once she rid herself of her curse.
She wiped her face, determined to regain control over her runaway emotions. A deep breath later, her thoughts settled and her hot head cooled, bringing back a welcome sense of reason and logic. Mark was partial to normal, ordinary females. So that was what she must become.
Simply because Mark had asked her to a play, that did not mean he was interested in her. He might have asked her as a matter of politeness, an invitation from one old friend to another. No, she must not lose sight of the war, just because she had unexpectedly won one tiny battle.
Ten minutes later and presentably composed, Nevara descended the stairs and entered the Jones’s drawing room.
Sir Phillip, her employer and the Regent’s personal Intelligence Officer, stood by the fireplace looking impeccably dressed. He was also in good humor, if his smile was any indication. He had been smiling a great deal lately, especially since Daniel Trenton moved out of Ravenstock Manor.
The history between Daniel and Sir Phillip’s wife had been a painful thorn in Sir Phillip’s side, one that had been happily removed when Daniel’s ancestry was uncovered and he left Sir Phillip’s employ.
Her employer’s wife, Lady Roselyn, the daughter of an earl was head of the Rue Alliance. She sat serenely on a chair facing the sofa as she worked on her petit point. No one watching this beautiful lady would imagine she was capable of altering her features at will to resemble anyone, pretty or not, male or female, and she could do it for long periods of time. They had yet to clock how long she could hold a shift. Each time she shifted, she surpassed her last effort. Lady Roselyn could also use her shifting to heal herself.
Not all the alliance members were so versatile. Most could only hold a shift for an hour. Nevara had never tried to deliberately hold her change in sight for longer than a minute or so.
Upon entering, Nevara curtsied and Sir Phillip gestured for her to join them. Mrs. Weatheringham and her six-year-old granddaughter, Hope, were already in the room. Nevara quietly took a place beside Hope. Lady Roselyn was in the midst of telling a tale about a woman who had anonymously sold a story and been paid twenty pounds for it.
“It was an adorable little children’s story about a lost duckling searching for its parents.”
“You must excuse my wife, Miss Wood,” Sir Phillip said with a fond smile. “Children hold her interest of late.”
“And no wonder,” Mrs. Weatheringham said. “With such felicitous news to share.”
“What news?” Nevara asked. “Is it about our plans to travel to Spain? Have you set a date, sir?”
He turned to his wife, an eyebrow rising in plea.
“What Phillip is trying to say is that I am with child,” Lady Roselyn said with a gentle smile.
Nevara gasped and sat back, adjusting her spectacles in an attempt to disguise the impact of this startling revelation. She was happy for the couple, of course. They were lovely people. Still, the thought of another child being born to a member of the Rue Alliance was unsettling. Her late aunt would have disapproved.
“Better you die alone and unloved than propagate your abomination on our world with one more aberrant child,” had been her aunt’s oft-repeated philosophy.
Nevara had been devastated. She had always dreamed about one day being part of a large, loving family. Part of Mark’s family.
Hope slid her tiny hand into Nevara’s and leaned close to whisper, “Miss Wood, will I be able to touch the baby?”
“Yes, of course.” She put a comforting arm around Hope, sympathizing with her concern. The child still had nightmares about a death Hope had inadvertently brought about, while Nevara carried the guilt for drawing danger to her friends and making it necessary for Hope to use her talent in the first place.
“You two are quiet,” Lady Roselyn said.
“Hope would like to help with the baby,” Nevara said.
The little girl nodded.
“I am glad to hear it.” Lady Roselyn held open her arms and Hope ran to her. “You will make my child a wonderful friend.”
“Miss Wood?” Sir Phillip said. “What is your view?”
Nevara glanced at her hands. “I am glad you are content.”
“Good, for you may not care for the rest,” he replied.
She glanced up. There was more news?
Sir Phillip stared at his shiny Hessians. “I am sorry, Miss Wood, but we must postpone our journey to Spain.”
No! Nevara’s world closed in and she shot to her feet. “Why, sir?”
His gaze was filled with sympathy. “Rose will soon be in no fit state for a long sea voyage, and I refuse to be away when she may have need of me.”
“But our journey should not take too long, sir. We could be back in plenty of time for the birth. If you are concerned about a chaperone for me, surely one of the maids could accompany us.”
Sir Phillip shook his head. “The matter is decided.”
Her entire future crumbled before her and Mark slipped from her grasp. “Pray, Lady Roselyn, assure him that we will be back long before the birthing.”
Lady Roselyn, too, stood. “My dear, I understand your . . .”
“No! No, my lady, you do not understand.”
Sir Phillip placed his arm around his wife. “Miss Wood, compose yourself. Rose spoke on your behalf. I withstood her pleading, as I have no intention of leaving her to deal with the sickness that plagues expectant mothers.” He held up his hand to silence her. “Kindly resign yourself. Once the child is born, and both mother and baby are in good health, I promise you, we shall travel together to seek out the origins of the alliance.”
“What if fighting breaks out again in Spain by then?”
He sighed. “I pray that will not happen. We have lost enough good men to this infernal war. But never fear. Napoleon is safely confined at Elba.”
Mrs. Weatheringham stood and touched Nevara’s shoulder. “The time will pass quickly, my dear. The young think six months is a lifetime, but it will fly by faster than you can ever imagine possible.”
By then, Mark might already be married. How could Nevara ever hope to compete with all the beautiful, normal, women in London?
Hope came over and tugged at Nevara’s hand. “And if you stay, you can finish my story.”
“What story does she refer to?” Lady Roselyn asked.
“Miss Wood has been telling Hope a fanciful tale to keep her dark dreams at bay,” Mrs. Weatheringham said.
“Are you still disturbed at night, Hope?” Lady Roselyn said, bending to speak to the child.
Hope hid behind her grandmother.
Nevara stepped away. The distraction Hope provided served her well. Sir Phillip and Lady Roselyn’s well-meaning words only made her more frustrated. She kept her gaze lowered. “Pray, excuse me,” she murmured, afraid she might blurt out something inappropriate if she stayed longer. She curtsied and hurried out.
Lady Roselyn called her name but Sir Phillip c
autioned his wife to give her time to accept his decision. As she fled, she thought she heard him say something about his cousin traveling to the continent and the possibility that she might be able to travel with him and his wife.
She shut out their concerned voices and ran out of the drawing room, tears too close to risk staying longer. What good would it do if Sir Phillip’s cousin, Lord Terrance, took her to Spain? Sir Phillip was not at liberty to reveal the secret of the Rue Alliance to outsiders, not even close family members. And she could not do what needed to be done, alone.
Picking up her skirts, she raced toward the main stairs, her mind feverishly reviewing her next step. If Sir Phillip refused to take her, there was one other person to ask.
This past summer, while they were on their way north to save the woman he loved, Daniel Trenton had offered to take Nevara to Spain. He was a Rue Alliance member, so there would be no concerns about having to keep secrets. He had since gained ample funds to support such a journey, too. Could she convince him to take her?
With that faint hope keeping her company, Nevara retrieved her cloak and reticule and rushed out the back door.
LATER THAT EVENING, inordinately excited at the idea of escorting Nevara to the play, Mark ascended the stairs of Ravenstock Manor and rapped smartly with the knocker.
The door opened a sliver and a voice asked, “Who be there?”
Mark started at the booming tone and odd question. He replied with his name and his wish to speak to Miss Wood.
The servant gestured him in. “The librarian is not back yet, sir. You may wait inside if you wish.” As Mark entered, the tall man leaned closer and whispered, “The master is lookin’ for ‘er, too. And he is vexed he is unaware of her whereabouts.”
Mark frowned. The fact that Sir Phillip was upset did not concern him. What did bother him was Nevara’s absence. Where could she be at this time of night? He slapped his gloves into the palm of his hand, ignoring the sharp sting. Should he track her down?
Sir Phillip came out of a side door. “Has she returned?”
“No, sir,” the servant said. “Mr. Alvaro is here to see her.”
Sir Phillip approached him. “May I inquire how you know Miss Wood?”
Mark decided to lean toward honesty. That was his favorite path to take in most matters. “We were neighbors in Wiltshire. As she is now under your employ and has no other relatives, it behooves me to ask your permission to escort her to the play tonight. My apologies for not doing so before inviting her.”
Sir Phillip observed him for a moment and Mark felt as if he were an ant being studied under a quizzing glass in sunshine. Finally, Nevara’s employer said, “Shall we remove to my study?”
What was there for them to discuss? However, to be polite, he nodded.
By the time Sir Phillip had finished questioning him, Mark felt as if he had been caught behind enemy lines and been thoroughly interrogated.
Near the end of the cross examination, Sir Phillip asked if this was an indication Mark intended to court Miss Wood with honorable intentions. The only answer he could give, if he wished to take her to the play, obviously, had to be yes.
Sir Phillip silently waited for Mark’s response.
Finally, Mark spit out the affirmative and felt an unexpected thrill, as if he truly wanted the opportunity to court Nevara. Fairy tales could be insidiously tempting.
Sir Phillip nodded, as if satisfied, and Mark breathed a profound sigh of relief. The knight then invited him to join his wife for tea while they awaited Nevara’s return.
Mark agreed, reconsidering his intention of extricating Nevara from the alliance. They appeared to not only have her best interests at heart, but, if the need arose, would be able to protect her, at least until Mark could arrive to assist.
On their way to the drawing room, his host said, “Stony, see that tea is brought in.”
Mark preceded Sir Phillip into the room, where the lovely Lady Roselyn sat in the company of an elderly lady. During introductions, she greeted him with a pleased smile, and then Sir Phillip presented her elderly companion, Mrs. Weatheringham.
“Mr. Alvaro says that he wishes to escort our Miss Wood to a play tonight. What do you make of that, ladies?”
“I think it most handsome of him,” Lady Roselyn said.
Mark accepted the compliment and sat across from her. Sir Phillip remained standing, a hand on the back of his wife’s chair. The housekeeper, a stout woman, brought in the tea.
She carried in a service heavy with cups and a large steaming teapot without seemingly any effort. In fact, though she had one hand under the tray, the tray’s absolute stillness could suggest it was floating above her hand. He hid his smile, guessing this was another of the cursed gypsy clan.
Once she set down her burden and left, Lady Roselyn poured. “Are you well acquainted with Miss Wood? She rarely speaks of her past. How do you know her?”
“My family and hers were neighbors.”
“Mrs. Beaumont introduced us over two years ago,” Mrs. Weatheringham said. “Yet, Nevara has never mentioned any family.”
Mark choked back the distaste that arose at the thought of Cora Wood. He was not the least surprised that Nevara never spoke of her to her new friends. “Miss Wood used to live with her aunt. Perhaps once she came to Town, she wished to forget her old life and begin anew.”
Mrs. Weatheringham nodded. “Despite being a grown woman of eighteen, she did seem to be a sad, thin little waif when I first met her. She has since then improved greatly in both mind and body.”
“I have always seen her as competent and self-reliant,” Lady Roselyn said, “and so intent on her research that I never thought about her lack of family life.”
“I hope to give her something more pleasurable to occupy her thoughts than dreary research tonight,” Mark said.
Lady Roselyn sat forward to pass him his cup. As she did, her necklace swung out. His senses immediately came alive to the spell worked into the silver amulet hanging from the chain around her neck.
“Mr. Alvaro,” Sir Phillip said, distracting him from perusing the amulet. “I find it curious that you have not asked what Miss Wood researches so avidly.”
Mark stiffened. This man noticed too much. “She will no doubt inform me in time.”
Lady Roselyn sat back. “Do you know that she is intent on traveling to Spain?” She chuckled, a lovely bell like sound. “You might find yourself pressed to take her there.”
He did not return the smile. “I assure you, Lady Roselyn, Spain is a land that I never want to visit.”
Sir Phillip, his wife and Mrs. Weatheringham exchanged intent glances. His host sat in a chair beside Mark. “Do you harbor a dislike for your ancestral land, Mr. Alvaro?”
“Suffice it to say that I feel no interest in the country.” Mark took a sip of his tea. This conversation meandered in directions he did not care for. His gaze traveled around the room for another topic and again settled on the silver amulet. “That is an interesting pendant, you wear, Lady Roselyn.”
Her hand sprang to hide it and she sent a furtive glance toward her husband. Then she laughed, nervously. “It is a family heirloom, passed to me by my mother, and her mother before her. It is called a Cimaruta.” She watched him closely. “Have you seen such a thing before?”
He placed his cup and saucer carefully on the side table. How could he put this delicately and not trigger the spell that bound him to silence?
“I am familiar with the design,” he murmured finally. “It is of gypsy origin.”
“Gypsy?” Lady Roselyn exclaimed, surprise and just a hint of worry in her voice.
Chapter Three
NEVARA ARRIVED AT the Duke of Morton’s residence in a hopeful frame of mind. She had to keep an optimistic outlook.
His grace greeted her with a hug.
Surprised by such a physical show of affection, she hugged Daniel Trenton back, relishing his friendship. It had been a most difficult day, full of surprises, joys and deep disappointments, and his open affection was a welcome refuge from those swirling emotions.
“Miss Wood, it is good to see a friendly face,” he said, releasing her. He led her to his study and plunked himself beside her on a sofa, still holding her hands. His black cat, Phoenix strolled over to sit on the back of the sofa. Nevara extricated her hands to stroke the cat’s fur and the feline purred in response. “How is Lady Faith,” she asked of the lady Daniel had recently married.
His smile was ample answer. “She misses you. As do I.”
“You have both been too busy to visit Ravenstock Manor.”
Her statement opened a floodgate of complaints.
“Events of the past summer thrust me into a lifestyle for which I was unprepared,” he said, sobering. “I apparently own numerous properties that need supervision to ensure they receive adequate repair. If that were not enough to occupy my entire time, I am bombarded daily with petitions—people wanting pensions or my influence to further this scheme or resolve that dispute. And I apparently have a dozen parliamentary seats to fill with the right people. Even with my brother’s help, I can barely keep up with all the requests for my time.”
“And to think you balked at the ‘onerous’ duties of a butler, your grace,” Nevara said with a chuckle as Phoenix, growing tired of attention, leapt to the floor and settled himself before the warm hearth.
Daniel’s candid blue eyes turned grave. “I can guess why you are here, Miss Wood. Lady Roselyn and Sir Phillip shared their felicitous news with Faith and I the other night. I know how much you were looking forward to your trip to Spain. Is that why you are here? To ask me to accompany you?”
“You did promise,” she said, her stomach trembling because she feared his answer would be another refusal. After that list of duties on his plate, when would Morton have time to travel? She shook her head in wonder. It was still difficult thinking of him as Morton instead of as Mr. Trenton.
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