Kate nodded. “She, um, had some unexpected developments, yes.”
“Strongest battle mage I’ve seen since Duncan came into his power,” Jack said. “Dangerous as hell, if you’ll pardon the language, Mama.”
“Is there other magical ability in your family?” The Duke slid several piles around on his desk until he found what he was looking for: a pen. He flipped a few pieces of paper over and discarded them before finding one that seemed to suit his needs and scratched a few notes on it.
“Not that I know of,” Kate said slowly. She’d been wracking her brain with the same question since that fateful afternoon in Lady M’s drawing room. “But . . .”
“But?” Jack and the Duchess spoke at the same time, and leaned forward toward her at the same slight angle, something she would have found funny if their intimidating joint attention hadn’t been focused entirely on her.
“Well, to be honest, I don’t know much about my mother’s family. Grandpapa always said that Papa married beneath him, but he never said why. And I didn’t know my mother well. She . . . wasn’t healthy. And Papa was more interested in her than us, so we went to live with Grandpapa while they made endless rounds of doctors trying to help her. Until she died.” Kate made it through the dry recitation of her family’s private tragedy without allowing emotion into her voice, and Jack squeezed her hand. They’d talked about some of this, but blurting it all out to the Duke and Duchess felt strange.
“So there could be magic in your mother’s family that you don’t know about,” the Duke mused.
“Late development of significant ability is quite rare,” the Duchess said.
“But I’ve gotten seasick since I was very small,” Kate said.
“Fascinating.” The Duke scribbled more notes.
The Duchess stared at her in the peculiar way that Kate had come to recognize as the second sight. Jack often had the same strange doubled gaze when he looked at the sky, doing whatever his weather wizard business was. “You’ve never demonstrated any ability whatsoever?” Her Grace asked. Kate shook her head. “Hmm.”
“So?” Jack demanded.
“Well, you should probably avoid ships,” the Duchess said.
Kate hid a smile as Jack rolled his eyes. “Helpful advice, thank you,” he said. “Anything else?”
“Well, without giving you a sleep spell and doing a thorough analysis of your subconscious aura, I can only guess,” the Duchess said. “And we haven’t time for any of that just now. But, given your sister’s . . . developments, my guess is that you’ve got some sort of latent magical ability, quite strong, that links you to the earth.”
“Links me to the earth?”
The Duchess nodded. “It’s why your body rebelled so thoroughly when it lost its link when the ship’s anchor lifted. The magic didn’t have anywhere to ground itself.”
Kate frowned. “So I’m going to start exploding things like Alicia?”
“Unlikely,” the Duke said. “You may never actually fully develop your abilities. They could remain latent for your entire life. But any children you have—” He gestured to Jack. “—will probably have a great deal of talent, given that they’ll get it from both parents.”
Kate remembered the Lowell twins blowing the dining room door open at Kilgoran and winced. “I suppose it’s good to be prepared.”
Jack looked like he wanted to laugh. “And you thought you would just have to deal with troublesome children who might want to make lists or sail ships.”
That prompted a reluctant smile from her. “We may need to reinforce a few walls.”
The Duchess patted her hand. “Don’t worry, dear, raising magical children isn’t as hard as it sounds. And it can be very entertaining.”
“Also expensive,” the Duke mumbled.
Jack grinned, then his expression shifted to thoughtful. “You know, an earth-based magic link might have something to do with why you do so well at estate management. It’s a rather earthy task, especially at Rothwell.” The Duke raised an eyebrow at him, and Jack raised both hands in self-defense. “Don’t look at me. Pig breeders are an earthy folk.” Kate elbowed him, and he laughed. “Sorry.”
“So what am I supposed to do about this?” Kate tried to assess herself. Did she feel magical? Not particularly.
The Duke and Duchess exchanged glances. “It’s up to you,” the Duchess said. “You could try to find some sort of catalyst to force your magic to develop, or you could just let it be and go about your life.”
“Avoiding sea travel, of course,” the Duke added. Of course. Just avoid the one thing her husband loved above all else.
Kate felt Jack’s fingers curl into hers. “You don’t have to do anything right away, Kate. You’re not in any danger, and you’re not dangerous to others.”
She sighed. “This is all a little overwhelming.”
“Well, there’s nothing like a ball to take your mind off of things,” the Duchess said briskly. “I suggest you both get a little rest before tonight.”
Kate snuck a glance at Jack, who seemed resigned. She’d nearly forgotten the ball in the distraction of learning about magic. It might take her mind off of this issue, but their entrance into society as a married couple brought its own host of complications. “We should get home.”
“Yes, please.” Jack nearly pulled her out of the room. She made hasty goodbyes to Their Graces as she was towed swiftly away.
~ ~ ~
Kate surveyed the gown laid out on the bed with a sense of smugness. She’d wondered why Lady Morehouse had ordered it, weeks ago. Now, she was grateful. Rich red folds of silky fabric tumbled over each other atop the coverlet. It was decidedly not a debutante’s dress. Lady M had said something about being prepared for every eventuality. Consumed as Kate had been by her own plans, she’d mostly shrugged it off and looked wistfully at the gown she expected never to be able to wear. Governesses and housekeepers, after all, wore mostly black and brown. And they certainly didn’t wear anything this low cut. Married ladies, on the other hand . . .
She wriggled into the gown and let the maid into the room to button her up. Good heavens. It really was low, wasn’t it? She stared at herself in the mirror when the maid shooed her gently to the dressing table to get her hair done. Her fingers fluttered toward her chest, itching to tug the fabric up another inch. The deep red glowed against her skin, and her dark hair seemed to glow with it. She let her hands fall back into her lap. The mirror didn’t lie. She had to admit that she looked . . . like Lady Rothwell. Captain Jack Boone needed a dashing bride, didn’t he? Lady Morehouse really had been prepared for everything.
The maid had just finished her hair when there was a knock at the door. She nodded at the girl, who opened it to allow Jack in and bobbed her head in a greeting as she slipped out past him. Kate rose and turned her gaze to Jack, who appeared startled for a brief moment and then rather predatory.
“You clean up well,” she said, letting her eyes run over him. She’d never actually seen him in full formalwear. He filled out the tight breeches very nicely.
“You look . . .”
“Like a lady?”
“Delicious.” He moved toward her, and she laughed.
“None of that until later, sir.” He kept moving anyway, and she shivered as his hands came around her waist and his lips met her bare neck. “Jack. We have to go soon.”
He sighed. “This is why I hate having a title. So much responsibility.”
Kate pressed her lips together. “I like responsibilities,” she said quietly. They kept her grounded when everything else was floating away.
“I know.” He gave her another kiss, this time on the cheek. “I’ve got another one for you.”
She was surprised. “You do?” She searched quickly for paper and pen. “Do I need to write anything down?
Is there a plan?” Her circling gaze landed back on Jack, who was holding a wide, flat box and wearing an expression of exaggerated patience. “What—”
“Here’s your responsibility,” he said. “Don’t let anybody steal these.” He opened the box, and she gasped.
A vast quantity of rubies and diamonds twinkled up at her from an elaborate necklace and a set of matching hairpins. More than she could quickly count, anyway. “Jack! Where did you— Did you buy these?” She frowned. “The fence budget—”
He threw back his head and laughed. “My lady, you are a delight. Only you would rather fences than jewels.”
“Rather is a strong word,” she said. “But needs are relative.”
“I didn’t buy them. Believe it or not, they’re the Rothwell jewels.”
“We have jewels?” She cast her mind back over the estate’s affairs, but gave up trying to remember when the sparkles distracted her.
“So it seems. An officious banker delivered a list of valuable items in storage under the name of the Rothwell estate when I first came into the title. I thought I would investigate, now that there’s somebody around with more interest in such things than I have.”
“I like the results of your investigation,” she murmured, reaching out a finger to touch the ruby at the center of the dramatic necklace.
“I’ll investigate a few other things later.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
She chuckled. “You’re a committed detective, I see.”
“Very much so.” He set the box down on the dressing table and carefully lifted the necklace. “May I?”
She turned, and he slipped it around her neck and fastened it. They both stared at her reflection in the mirror. “I think we’re going to make an impression,” he murmured.
She nodded silently, and picked up the hairpins. He plucked them out of her fingers and deftly slid them into her hair as neatly as the maid would have. She looked in the mirror one more time, watching the unexpected jewels glow against her hair. They seemed oddly at home there. “Thank you.”
“The carriage is waiting outside,” he said quietly.
She took a deep breath. This was it. Time to show London that Captain Jack Boone and Miss Katherine Ashe could play at titles with the best of them.
She nodded at him, and he smiled down at her, though it wasn’t nearly as carefree as his usual smiles. “Are you ready, Lady Rothwell?”
“Not at all, Lord Rothwell.”
“Let’s pretend together, then,” he said and took her arm.
Chapter 17
“Lord and Lady Rothwell.” The butler’s tones were deep and resonating.
There was no hiding here. Kate stared down into a sea of surprised faces as they were announced. It seemed that word had not yet spread. She clutched Jack’s arm a little tighter as they followed the Duke and Duchess down the stairs into the ballroom. Virtually everything Lady Morehouse had ever taught her flashed through her mind as she caught glimpses of various expressions. Scowls from a few matrons, envy from a few young ladies, confusion from others. And many, many amused male faces. Society certainly had opinions about Captain Jack Boone, and they were ready to transfer them to his bride. She suppressed a flare of annoyance and threw her head up defiantly. She might have been a wallflower once, but she was the daughter and granddaughter of earls, and she would not be intimidated now.
They circled the room smoothly, and Kate found herself slipping easily into the role she’d been trained for. A tiny voice inside her head that sounded alarmingly like Lady Morehouse chuckled smugly. She would have made an excellent chatelaine, had her original plans for the Season borne fruit. She made a better lady. Particularly on the arm of this lord. She gently steered Jack toward the appropriate point of introduction for a nearby group with pressure on the inside of his arm. His fingers covered hers briefly in thanks before he set about charming another matriarch. Kate smiled and accepted another entry onto her dance card from the woman’s brother.
Well-connected Lady Rothwell was in a great deal more demand than penniless wallflower Kate Ashe. She felt her lips twisting and realized she could finally understand Jack’s impatience with titles and the people who held them. Before she could reflect further on the subject, however, she was whisked away from Jack and onto the dance floor by her first partner of the night.
A bit breathless, Kate reunited with her husband for the supper waltz. She’d never danced so many times in a row. And certainly not with so many people. Jack, too, had been on the dance floor nonstop, but she’d paid attention to his partners, and she wanted to kiss him. He’d spent his time plucking the quietest ladies from the furthest seats along the wall and teasing them into dancing with him. And attention from the handsome Lord Rothwell had them blushing, and their cards filling as young men were intrigued by what Jack Boone saw.
“You’ve danced with every lanky wallflower I know,” she said, bemused. The acquaintances she’d made in months of holding down chairs in every ballroom in London were beaming unanimously in their direction.
“I could tell you that the Duchess raised me to do what was right,” he said, and pulled her closer as he swept her effortlessly through a turn in the dance. The hard line of his body met hers, and she found herself suddenly short of breath. “But the truth is—” He leaned in, and the warmth of his breath slid down her neck. “I really like tall women.”
She caught a hysterical giggle before it escaped her throat. “I see.” The rest of the dance passed in silence as she enjoyed the feeling of his body against hers. She found herself blushing at least three times as she pondered how they might replicate the movements later, with less clothing between them. He clearly knew what she was thinking, for his grin by the time the music ended was very wide.
“Shall we eat?” he asked her.
“Yes, please, I’m famished.”
He found them an empty pair of chairs, and deposited her in place with firm instructions to defend his seat against all comers while he collected their food. She leaned back and fanned her face, trying to cool down the last of her blushes.
“Congratulations, Lady Rothwell,” somebody said from behind her.
“Thank you,” she said automatically, turning to see one of the young women who’d dominated the ballrooms at the beginning of the Season. It seemed like years ago. She was recently married, Kate recalled, a successful catch made early in the Season. “It’s Lady Elthorpe now, isn’t it? Congratulations to you, as well.”
The girl preened smugly. “Thank you. An earl is quite a catch, Mama says. And dear Elthorpe is so very handsome.”
She didn’t say anything about his kindness or attentiveness, Kate noticed. “Indeed.” The man wasn’t to her taste, but his carefully presented dashing appearance had made an impression on many of the girls she knew.
“How is your sister?” Something in the girl’s tone raised Kate’s hackles. Alicia had made some friends during the Season, but many of their fellow debutantes hadn’t had kind words to say about a penniless girl as popular as her sister.
“She’s quite well, thank you for asking.”
“I don’t see her here.”
Kate could feel her eyes narrowing. For this, she was well-equipped. Bless Lady Morehouse. “She’s holidaying with some relations of the Duke of Edgebourne, actually.” Elthorpe, earl or not, bore no comparison to the family she’d married into, and she and Lady Elthorpe both knew it.
“How lovely,” the other woman murmured. “Excuse me, I see Mama looking for me.” She made her escape, and Kate tilted her nose as high as it would go to watch her leave.
“Masterfully done,” the Duchess said quietly from behind her.
Kate sniffed as the older woman took the seat she’d been saving for Jack. “Upstart. Jealous of Alicia’s popularity. Married as soon as she fooled som
ebody into asking her.”
The Duchess smiled. “I agree with your assessment, though I might not say it in the middle of a crowded ballroom.”
Kate ducked her head. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right. Nobody heard.” Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw the Duchess’ fingers flicker briefly.
“Magic is rather useful for gossip, isn’t it?”
The Duchess chuckled. “You have no idea.”
“Perhaps after things have settled down a bit, I’ll try to learn more about it,” Kate said thoughtfully. “Do you suppose Jack’s right about my link to the earth?”
“Weather wizards are often deeply intuitive,” the Duchess said. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Jack was a weather wizard, tied to the wind and sea. Magic or no, there was no way her earthbound presence was ever going to be enough for him. Kate sighed.
The Duchess patted her hand softly. “Matters of magic and matters of the heart often both seem much more complicated than they actually are,” she said. “I think you’ll find your way.”
“Thank you,” Kate said. The Duchess’ maternal warmth was practically a palpable thing. She wondered if Alicia would be a mother like Her Grace, or more like their own, wrapped up in her own silent problems. She stifled a smile. There was certainly nothing silent about Alicia. Point in Her Grace’s column.
“I thought I told you to hold this ground.” Jack was standing in front of them, carrying two plates and frowning at his now-occupied chair.
“You said I should defend it against villains and sneaks,” Kate said.
Jack raised his eyebrows. “And?”
“Your mother is neither villain nor sneak.”
“She’s certainly a sneak,” Jack said as he handed Kate her plate. “Villainy is probably an objective quality, though.”
“Thank you,” the Duchess said dryly. “I try to keep my hand in.”
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