Susan Spencer Paul - [Enchanter 01]

by Touch of Night

  “You’re quite right,” he said, turning his thoughts back to Miss Linley. “I’m not much used to society any longer, and my manners are atrocious. I apologize.”

  She was silent for a long moment, as she gazed fixedly over his shoulder, but at last she said, “You are forgiven,” then added, in a more reasoned tone, “I’m sure it is rather strange for you to be in company again. It was terribly wrong of my aunt to insist that you attend this evening. I’m sorry for the way she behaved this morning. It’s her habit, I fear, to command everyone to her will.”

  She had rather remarkable features, he discovered as he inspected her face at this close distance. The fineness of her bones, the elegance of her cheeks and nose and high, arching brows bespoke her gentle . . . birth and gave him pause. There were those among his kind who possessed such delicate features. Like Malachi, they were generally said to have inherited elvish blood.

  “There’s no need to apologize, Miss Linley. I’m used to my cousin’s dictatorial behavior. I believe it comes with being the head of families such as ours.”

  “I must confess,” she replied, “that there are moments when Lord Graymar quite reminds me of my aunt.” She smiled. “I do not mean that unkindly.”

  He almost laughed. “I know you did not. But I promise that the earl shall never hear of the comparison from my lips.” He hesitated a moment before asking, as casually as he could, “The Linleys are an old family, are they not?”

  “Very old, I’m afraid,” she said, with such an odd expression that he wished he could know what she was feeling. “My aunt would tell you that we are among the oldest families in Europe, with one of the purest bloodlines. She’s fond of speaking about our family history.”

  “And you aren’t?” he asked.

  “No, not really,” she said. “It can be rather exhausting to belong to such a family. There are so many things one must do, and many more that one mustn’t, lest the family name be disgraced. But I needn’t tell you any of that, for you know very well what I mean. The Seymour name is ancient, is it not?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” he said. “I believe we must be kindred spirits in that regard, Miss Linley.”

  Again he caught a flash of that odd, sad expression before it was covered over with a smile.

  “As both our families are so antiquated,” he said, “I can’t help but wonder if we’re in any way related.”

  “I’ve never heard of any connection,” she replied as he spun her into a turn.

  “Perhaps there’s some tie through another family, to which we’re both related?” he asked. “Are there any The-riots in your family line? Or Llandrusts?”

  Her brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t believe so. Are you related to the Theriots, Mister Seymour?” she asked with unfeigned interest. She sounded excited by the possibility. “They’re rather infamous, almost like Gypsies, are they not?”

  Almost, he thought, and regretted having brought the subject up. That particular branch among the Families was given to gambling and thievery, and excelled at both. Why in heaven’s name had he mentioned them, rather than one of the other, far more respectable family names? And why wasn’t she insulted that he should even suggest a relationship, rather than appearing fascinated?

  “Distantly,” he replied, and decided that it would be best to let Malachi pursue the question of any relationship between them. “You dance beautifully, Miss Linley, for a lady who no longer dances.”

  He realized, as he said the merely polite words, that they were true. They were dancing. Together. Miss Linley was no longer rigid in his arms, and they were moving with ease, dancing as gracefully as any of the other couples on the floor.

  And there was something even more astonishing—something that he had only just realized. Not only was he not feeling her emotions, but the emotions of all those around him had dimmed, as well, until they were nearly covered by the loudness of the music.

  They had been conversing so easily because of this unexpected miracle, and because they’d been conversing so easily, he hadn’t noticed it until the music had nearly come to an end. And then, before he could really turn the knowledge over in his mind, they had come to a stop and Miss Linley had stepped out of his arms.

  Immediately, the swell of emotions began to fly at him as they had been doing before the dance started. Without thinking, he reached out to pull her back into his . . . arms and the din lessened again.

  “God above,” he muttered, taken aback by this new development. Julia Linley certainly was a surprising young woman.

  “Mister Seymour?”

  Niclas let her . . . go then took her back into his arms again, then let her go. Each had the same result as before.

  “I believe,” she said, putting out a hand to stop him as he tried to take her into his arms again, “that the music has ended, Mister Seymour.”

  Niclas came to his senses, to discover that they were standing alone on the dance floor, surrounding by many interested onlookers. He didn’t need to see their expressions more closely to feel how amused, and bewildered, they were. A few were gloating because Niclas was making such a fool of himself. Some, probably women, were glad to see Miss Linley embarrassed. A few kindhearted souls felt sympathy.

  “Forgive me,” he began, his heart sinking. This certainly wasn’t the way to convince Lady Eunice that he should be trusted with the care of her niece. “I—”

  She smiled and set her hand upon his arm, and, somehow, she had them walking off the floor in so natural a manner that their onlookers rapidly lost interest.

  “It’s quite all right, sir,” she assured him. “I would have enjoyed another dance, as well, but I can’t think they’ll play another waltz for some time. Ah, you see?” she said as the musicians struck up the tune for a reel.

  The press of emotions wasn’t as muted as before, but she only had her hand upon his arm, and it was gloved. He wondered how closely they would have to touch or embrace in order to make all foreign emotions disappear completely.

  The visions that filled his vulnerable brain were both vivid and much too stimulating. Niclas forcibly pushed them aside and said, “Miss Linley, may I ask you to do me a great favor?”

  “Certainly, Mister Seymour. I should be pleased, if what you ask is within my power to do. I must warn you beforehand, however, that, despite my own Linley stubbornness, I do not possess the will to overcome Lady Eunice. She is stubborn beyond even what Linleys are famous for.”

  He laughed. “I’ve been acquainted with Lady Eunice for many years, and you’re quite right. Only she can, and will, make up her mind. But I hope to sway her in my favor tonight by doing well.”

  Miss Linley nodded and murmured in the affirmative, and Niclas slowed their pace.

  “The trouble is,” he went on, “that I’ve been out of society for so many years that my manners, as you’ve seen firsthand, are somewhat stiff. I wonder if you might help me by granting me your company for a little while longer. I must necessarily greet several acquaintances and don’t wish to make another misstep that might decide Lady Eunice against me.”

  She hesitated, and Niclas pressed, saying, “I would be deeply grateful, Miss Linley.”

  They were walking so slowly now, avoiding a return to Lady Eunice, that they had nearly stopped.

  “Mister Seymour,” she said with all seriousness, looking up at him. “Why do you want so much to go to Wales in place of his lordship?”

  Niclas gazed into her lovely face and wondered, again, how he could possibly have avoided knowing such a beautiful woman before now.

  “I cannot tell you, Miss Linley. Not now, leastwise, and I apologize for that. But I hope that I shall be able to do so before our journey is entirely done. If I have the honor of escorting you.”

  She smiled gently, in such a manner that Niclas suddenly felt short of breath.

  “I should be pleased to stroll about the room with you, sir. I’m quite sure my aunt won’t mind for, as she told you this morning, you and I shar
e many acquaintances.”

  Niclas didn’t smile often these days; it felt so strange to do it so easily now with her.

  “Then, if you truly don’t believe Lady Eunice would miss you for a little while longer, why don’t we go and discover who they are?”

  She made it so easy, Niclas thought later as they walked about the room. As long as her hand was upon his arm, he was able to force the emotions of others out of his mind and focus on his own thoughts. Just as he had been able to do before the curse had robbed him of peace.

  Apart from that, Julia Linley was extremely pleasant company. She was intelligent and witty and possessed the kind of refined sense of humor that Niclas especially appreciated. And they discovered, as they moved from group to group, that they did, indeed, have many acquaintances in common.

  After twenty minutes of polite conversation, Niclas returned Miss Linley to Lady Eunice’s side. Bowing low, he apologized for their delay in returning, thanked her ladyship for allowing him the company of her niece for such a pleasant length of time, and asked if he might make amends by bringing them refreshments.

  Lady Eunice eyed Niclas up and down, her expression very solemn.

  “Thank you, Mister Seymour, but I believe you’ll be far too busy for such minor activities as fetching drinks. How quickly can you be ready to leave for Wales? I should like the journey to begin no later than three days from tonight.”

  Fifteen minutes later Niclas was ready to thank his hosts and make his good-byes. First, he found Malachi, and pulled him outside to a quiet balcony.

  “What the devil were you about on the dance floor?” the earl asked just as soon as they were safe from being overheard. “I was about to come and rescue you before Miss Linley took you in hand.”

  “Have you thought any further about why I can’t feel her?”

  Lord Graymar shook his head slightly. “I haven’t really had the chance. I’ve been dancing, too, you know, and—”

  “I’ll be leaving for Wales in three days,” Niclas interrupted impatiently. “I need to know before then whether we’re related in any way, or whether she possesses some magic that we aren’t related to or aware of. Can you find out for me?”

  Lord Graymar’s handsome face lit in a sudden smile.

  “You did it, then. You convinced Lady Eunice to take a chance on you. Well done, cfender.” He took Niclas’s hand and shook it. “Now we must only hope it does the trick in clearing up your trouble.”

  “Malachi, this is vitally important to me. Can you find out about Miss Linley?” Niclas repeated.

  “I shall do my best,” his cousin promised. “But what’s happened to create such an urgency?”

  Niclas gave a slight shake of his head, still reeling from the discovery he’d made.

  “I can’t feel her at all—you already know that—but there’s more.” He lowered his voice slightly, and drew nearer to the earl. “When I danced with her, held her, my senses were all dimmed. I still felt the emotions of those around me, but it was as it used to be, and I was able to keep it all within my control.”

  Even in the darkness, Niclas could see his cousin’s eyes widen with surprise.

  “Are you certain? Perhaps you were merely confused by the music, or your weariness?”

  “Entirely certain,” said Niclas. “It all came shouting back at me the moment I let her go—then dimmed again when I took her back in my arms. Even her hand upon my arm had an effect, though much less so. Malachi,” he said, gripping his cousin’s arm, “you’ve got to find out why. No one among our relations, not even you, possesses that kind of power.”

  “No,” the earl said slowly. “We don’t. Certainly not when a blood curse is involved. I can’t promise you that I’ll have the answer before you leave for Wales, but I’ll try.”

  Four

  This is ridiculous.” Lady Eunice sniffed loudly and looked down her long, straight nose at the missive she held. “Of course you must stop for tea each afternoon.” Frowning, she thrust the note back at her butler. “I’m surprised that any well-born gentleman would even consider forgoing so necessary a respite merely for the sake of gaining a few additional miles,” Lady Eunice went on, turning to Julia, who sat across from her, pouring tea. “You will arrive in Wales in perfectly good time without making such sacrifices.” She accepted the cup Julia held out to her. “Bring me paper, pen, and ink at once, Puckett, and tell Mister Seymour’s boy to wait for a reply. I shall have it ready for him shortly.”

  Puckett bowed and quit the room.

  “I’m sure Mister Seymour is merely anxious to make good time, Aunt,” Julia said gently, setting the teapot down with care. “And I do think we should try to be sensitive to his feelings on the matter. He’s already been so kind as to give way on so many other of our demands.”

  “Kindness has nothing to do with it,” Lady Eunice said insistently, using a pair of delicate silver tongs to place a sugared tartlet on her plate. “Niclas Seymour may have the great calamity to be born of an unfortunate family, but he understands full well what society requires of him. If he didn’t, your parents and I should never let you go for so much as a drive in the park in his company. Now,” she poured a teaspoon of sugar into her cup, “you set your mind to the task ahead and let me take care of the arrangements. I promised your parents that all would be well, and that no reproach should come of the venture. Ah, here’s Puckett. Very good.”

  All was silent while Lady Eunice wrote a reply to Niclas Seymour, save for Julia’s absent stirring of her tea.

  Her thoughts began to wander, in the quietness, as they had continuously done since the Dubrow ball. It seemed impossible to stop thinking of him, remembering his beautiful, expressive eyes and his wonderful face, the power of his arms as he’d gracefully moved her about the dance floor, the warm and subtle scent of the cologne he had worn. She had spent years wondering what it would be like to dance with him. Now she knew, and the reality made all her imaginings insipid by comparison.

  “There,” Lady Eunice said with satisfaction, drawing Julia out of her reverie. “This will suffice. He’ll understand me perfectly.” She folded the brief message and gave it into her butler’s care. “Have it taken at once, Puckett. I shall expect a reply from Mister Seymour within the hour.”

  Julia sighed and tried to imagine how Niclas Seymour would receive yet another message from Lady Eunice. There had been so many over the past two days, since the Dubrow ball, back and forth. He could scarce give answer to one of her aunt’s demands before receiving another. She wondered if he wasn’t now regretting his offer to accompany her to Wales, and wouldn’t blame him in the least if he was.

  For her own part, Julia could scarce wait to be away from London and her family’s control. She had always believed that by the time she reached so advanced an age as five and twenty she would be allowed some small measure of freedom, but it wasn’t so. Marriage might have afforded her greater independence, at least so far as a husband would allow, but spinsterhood, she had discovered, was a benign prison. Now, instead of pleasing a husband, her duty was to serve her family, and they were proving to be a demanding master. Julia was beginning to understand why her Aunt Alice had decided to remain in Wales following her husband’s death. She was safe there from the intrusion of Linleys. Or had been until now.

  Poor Aunt Alice, Julia thought. She had no expectation that family duty was about to be thrust on her, too.

  “I’ve instructed Jane to pack your warmest garments,” Lady Eunice said. “The weather is always uncertain in that heathen country—”

  “It’s beautiful there,” Julia murmured, turning her teacup about in its saucer.

  “—and you’ll need to be prepared for any eventuality. How Alice has survived in that uncivilized wilderness all these years I simply can’t imagine.”

  Julia smiled wistfully. “I should love to live in such a place. It’s so peaceful.”

  “Don’t be foolish,” Lady Eunice chided. “You’ve no time for jests. Now, you k
now what you must do, Julia. Your aunt will resist obedience, as she has ever done, but you must be quite firm.”

  “Yes, Aunt,” Julia murmured obediently.

  “I would have undertaken the task myself,” Lady Eunice said, “but my sister has never been given to listening to me. Or to anyone in the family, for that matter. She’s obstinate beyond all measure. Even as a child it was so.”

  “She’s a Linley,” Julia reminded.

  Lady Eunice gave a shake of her head. “No, it’s more than that. Linleys may be stubborn, but they are always loyal to family. Alice,” she said tautly, “set all loyalty aside when she wed Hueil Morgan. But that faithless act will be as nothing should she be persuaded into taking Ffinian Seymour for a husband. It must be stopped, Julia. Set your mind to it—” she looked very directly at her niece “—and don’t disappoint the family. No matter what is said or done, you must not fail us.”

  “I won’t,” Julia promised, slowly pushing her cup away. “And even if I should, Mister Seymour is clearly determined not to. We both know he won’t leave Castle Tylluan until his uncle has agreed to leave Aunt Alice in peace. That’s why you decided to let him accompany me.”

  “Precisely so,” Lady Eunice agreed.

  “Then all will be well, and there is nothing to worry over,” said Julia. “And now, if you don’t mind, Aunt, I believe I’ll go lie down for awhile. I fear I’m still rather weary from Lady Beatrice’s ball last night.”

  “Of course,” Lady Eunice said more kindly as Julia stood. “It’s an excellent thought. You must rest before tomorrow’s journey begins. I’ll have Jane wake you in an hour or so. We’re promised for your sister’s card party tonight.”

  “Oh, really, Aunt, must I go?” Julia protested. “I shall want an early night in order to leave on schedule in the morning. Mister Seymour insisted upon a timely departure. Surely Martha will have enough without me?”

  “She was quite specific about your attendance,” Lady Eunice said, “and I want your company, as well. You may sleep as long as you wish in the coach on the morrow. Jane certainly won’t mind.”