She was in the great hall, putting flowers on one of the tables, directing some of the servants in the placement of cups and bowls and plates. Kian could feel her contentment and pleasure as if it were his own and knew that familiar stab of pain at the knowledge that she seldom felt such things when he was near.
Kian had no idea how long Loris would have to remain in London. Weeks, perhaps even months, might pass before they would see each other again. It would be an awful time. He wasn’t quite sure how he would survive such a separation.
“Come to me,” he whispered softly. “Come, my unoliaeth.”
She would come, whether she wished to or not, whether she thought it was her own idea or not, because even the curse couldn’t change what they were to each other. She had the power to call him to her side as well, though when she did he always came to her as Liw.
He could see her straightening. The flowers were set aside, and she said something to one of the nearest servants. Wiping her hands on her apron and running her hands over her loosely bound hair, Loris turned and walked out of the great hall. She was coming.
Loris hesitated before knocking lightly on the study door. It still seemed strange not to see Ffinian in the room but to walk in and see Kian sitting behind the desk that had fit his father so well.
But Kian wasn’t sitting there now. He was standing by the window, gazing out at the view beyond. She saw the letter in his hand even before she spoke.
“I’m sorry if this isn’t a good time,” she said. “I’ve come about my letter.”
He turned to her, and Loris was struck by how terribly tired he was. His handsome face was drawn and pale, and his blue eyes were heavy with weariness.
“When did you last sleep?” she asked, and quickly wished that she hadn’t. She’d learned long ago that it never did any good to worry about Kian. He would only mock her for being concerned.
But, to her surprise, he simply replied, “I can’t remember,” and held the letter out to her.
And that made her even more concerned. If Kian didn’t have the energy to say something tart and unpleasant, then he was clearly far more exhausted than she’d realized.
She moved closer and took the letter, but continued to look up into his face.
“Why don’t you lie down for a few hours? There’s enough time before night falls and I can prepare a tray for your room so that you needn’t rise for the evening meal.”
A certain look came into his eye and he tilted his head slightly. “Are you worried for me, darling Loris?” he asked, sarcastically emphasizing one of the endearments that his father had called her by. “How sweet, and how very odd. Perhaps you’re sickening with something that’s made you lose your senses.”
The familiar anger that rose up in her when she was with him finally came to life, and out of habit Loris tensed, straightening full-height. If she had been cursed to dislike him, which she still doubted was true, then he had been cursed as well—to make her feel that way. No one else could aggravate her so quickly and thoroughly. But that was what he wanted to do, of course. As he so often reminded her, Kian preferred her anger to her kindness—or her coldness, as he called it.
“Yes, I forgot myself, of course,” she said tightly. “For a moment I mistook you for someone else. Dyfed, perhaps.” That did it, as she knew it would. Nothing made him angrier than being compared to Dyfed. The taunting smile on Kian’s face thinned into a straight line. “Forgive me for being so foolish.”
“That’s better,” he said, his tone filled with scarcely suppressed amusement. “Absent your waspish tongue, I might have mistaken you for someone else, as well. And then here we’d be, two strangers discussing a letter meant for you.”
The letter. Loris immediately forgot their sparring and gazed down at the object in her hands.
“Is it from the Goodbodys again?”
“Yes.”
“Why can’t they leave me in peace?” she said unhappily, beginning to feel sick, as she did whenever she remembered her days at the Red Fox. “It can’t be so very important, can it? They probably want money.”
“Sit down and open it,” Kian said, his tone gentler now. “You need to read it this time, Loris.”
She looked up at him and saw the emotion in his blue eyes before he could hide it. “You know what it is, don’t you?” When he began to look away she reached out and touched his arm, stilling him. “And all those other letters. The ones I threw away. You knew what was in them as well.”
He stared at her hand, then nodded. When he looked up at her, his expression made her tremble with fear.
“Come and sit,” he said, taking her hand and guiding her to the nearest chair. “You look as if you’re about to faint.” He pulled up another chair and sat beside her, leaning to set a strong, reassuring hand over her trembling ones. “I swore to you long ago that no one would ever harm you again, most especially not the Goodbodys, and regardless what you may feel for me, you know that I hold to my promises.”
That was true, Loris thought. Kian Seymour was an irritating wretch, but he was an honorable man. And he cared for her. He still believed that she was his unoliaeth, regardless of every proof otherwise. He would feel duty-bound to keep her safe.
“Open the letter,” he murmured, sitting back. “And then we’ll discuss what’s to be done.”
It took some doing, for her fingers still trembled, but at last she had it opened and unfolded. The handwriting within was difficult to read at best and completely indecipherable at worst.
“It seems to be from Mr. Goodbody. Or perhaps his wife. I believe she knew how to write. I can’t quite make it out … Is this about my mother?”
Loris held the missive out to Kian, but he didn’t look at it. He gazed directly at her and answered, “It seems to be.”
Loris frowned and gave her attention back to the letter. “It says … I believe … my mother’s … What is this word?”
She held the letter up to him once more. This time he looked, squinted at the word, and replied, “Family.”
“Family?” Loris repeated faintly, and looked at the letter. “My mother’s family is … is searching for me?” She lowered the missive to her lap and turned to the man sitting beside her.
Kian was still regarding her steadily, not in the least surprised. But of course he wouldn’t be. He didn’t need to read the letter to divine by magic what the Goodbodys had written.
“Tell me what it means,” she said. “Can this be true?”
“It is, in a way,” he replied calmly. “A certain gentleman has been seeking his runaway daughter for some years. He had gotten as far as discovering the existence of a woman—your mother—who closely resembled this daughter, though he could not be certain that it was she, as she had long since died. He learned that the woman had left behind a husband and child. Following their trail—which you will understand was not easy, being many years old—at last led the gentleman to the Goodbodys, who were able to tell him of both you and your father. Their description of your departed father accurately fits the appearance of the fellow who ran off with this gentleman’s daughter. Apparently the Goodbodys had never met your mother, and thus could not give the gentleman any information regarding her.”
Loris nodded. “She died when I was seven. We lived in a different part of London then, and only came nearer to the Red Fox when I was ten.”
“That may be, in part, why it’s been so difficult for you to be found,” Kian said. “The gentleman—Lord Perham—had reason to believe that his daughter was with child when she disappeared, and that child, if living, would now be approximately your age. Unfortunately, Lord Perham has had several false turns with fortune hunters pretending to be this unknown grandchild, and is understandably wary of believing the claims made by the Goodbodys. He is determined, however, to meet you himself before giving up hope entirely.”
A grandfather, Loris thought in amazement. A blood relative.
“If this man, Lord Perham, believes he’s my grand
father,” she asked, “then why hasn’t he simply come to Tylluan to find me? Or at least written to me himself? Why would he contact me through the Goodbodys?”
“He doesn’t have any alternative,” Kian told her. “Have you forgotten the kind of people the Goodbodys are?”
No, Loris thought grimly. She hadn’t. She looked at the letter once again, scanning it more carefully. “And there’s no mention of how I might find this gentleman, either—they wisely didn’t supply his name or title—if he is indeed my grandfather. If a meeting is to take place, it must be arranged by them. For a price. Aye, that’s why they’ve written so insistently, for they cannot make so much as a ha’penny until I’ve replied. What horrid people.” She looked at Kian, a new thought occurring to her. “And you knew, from the first letter that arrived those many weeks ago, what their purpose was? You divined its contents just as you did this one.”
“I did,” he confessed.
Anger began to rise again, but this time Loris didn’t bother to calm herself.
“You knew that my grandfather might be looking for me and never saw fit to tell me?” She shook the letter at him.
He only continued to gaze at her calmly. “I knew that the Goodbodys claimed your grandfather was looking for you. I also knew that they were liars and cheats and not to be trusted. And you can scarce lay the blame at my feet for your ignorance,” he added. “You made it abundantly clear that you didn’t want to know. You threw every letter away, and would have done the same with this one had I not made you open it.”
“But you should have told me!”
“The time wasn’t yet right.”
“Then why now?” she pressed. “Why did you choose this particular missive to reveal the truth?”
“For one thing,” he replied, “the Goodbodys were clearly going to keep sending them and oversetting you. And for another, I’ve at last had word from my cousin Niclas, who was kind enough to look into the matter for me. He is the one who managed to discover that the gentleman in question is the Earl of Perham and, having investigated further, reports that His Lordship’s claim to be your maternal grandfather may have merit.”
“The Earl of Perham?” she repeated faintly. “My mother’s father was an earl?”
“Perhaps,” Kian said. “I do not say that he is your grandfather, only that he may be. We’ll not know with certainty until you’ve met face-to-face.”
Loris stared at him. “Meet him … at the Red Fox?”
Kian made a sound of impatience.
“You will never be made to step into that establishment again,” he vowed. “The Goodbodys have been removed from the situation entirely. They remembered that you came away to Tylluan but must have forgotten that the young gentlemen who used to frequent their tavern had powerful relatives in London. Or perhaps Malachi made them forget, which is entirely likely. I only wish I’d been present to see how my cousin Niclas handled the Goodbodys when he went to visit them regarding the matter. Suffice it to say they won’t be writing you any more letters. This is the last of them.”
Loris could imagine how terrified the Goodbodys had been of Niclas Seymour. He was a lesser wizard but a powerful man nonetheless. Niclas served as the Dewin Mawr’s right hand and oversaw the many Seymour ventures and the family’s vast fortune. Apart from that, Niclas was physically quite different from the blond Seymours, who, like Kian, had inherited elfin features and tall, slender frames. Dark-haired Seymours were far more powerfully built, and Niclas was no exception. He possessed astonishing strength and could have lifted both of the portly Goodbodys with but one hand.
“Is he to come here, then?” she asked hopefully. “Lord Perham?”
“No, Loris.” Kian sat forward and briefly rubbed at one temple, as though he had an ache there. If it was possible, he looked even more tired. “He’s not. You’re to go to London and meet him there. I’ve decided that you’ll be more comfortable staying with Niclas and Julia, rather than at the town house, and, of course, they would much prefer to have you with them, as well. As to Lord Perham, Niclas will make arrangements for you to meet each other in a manner that will be comfortable for you both. Dyfed is to escort you to Town,” he said with a slight stiffness in his tone, and stood to walk toward the desk. “He doesn’t know about the visit yet, and I’d appreciate it if you’d not say anything to him until I’ve had a chance to tell him. You’ll be leaving shortly after he returns from Fynnon Elian.”
London, she thought with dismay, her senses whirling.
Loris didn’t want to go back to London, ever, and Kian knew that full well. Ffinian had never been able to convince her to join them when he and his sons had made their brief visits to Town each year, and she’d actually begun to feel hysterical on the two occasions when he’d jokingly teased that he would tie her up and throw her into the carriage.
Just as she felt slightly hysterical now.
“I believe it would be better if Lord Perham came here,” she told Kian, rising from her own chair. “It makes far more sense.”
Kian had his back to her, and when he spoke it was in a dismissive tone.
“The arrangements have already been made, and I’ll not change them. I intend that you and Dyfed should make this a proper visit, and remain in Town through the rest of the spring. You’ll be arriving in time to enjoy the Season and be introduced into society, regardless of whether you’re related to the Earl of Perham. And if you are his granddaughter,” he said, casting a brief look back at her, “believe me, society is going to be desperate to be introduced to you. Your beauty is going to cause a stir, regardless, but being a long-lost granddaughter to a nobleman of Lord Perham’s standing will make you an absolute sensation.” He uttered a laugh. “Every unmarried man in England is going to be falling at your feet, and quite a few who are married, as well. Dyfed’s going to have his hands full, poor fellow.”
“I don’t want to be a sensation,” she whispered, struggling to push the panic down. “Kian, I don’t want to go to London. I don’t want to leave Tylluan.”
“I’ve asked Niclas to appropriate sufficient funds from my account in Town to cover your expenses,” he said, ignoring her. “You’ll require an entirely new wardrobe. Julia will help you with all that, so you’ve nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not going,” Loris stated flatly. “I’m not. Lord Perham will simply have to come to Tylluan if he wishes to speak to me. I shall be very glad to welcome him, and I’m sure you won’t mind if he desires to stay for any length of time.” She neatly folded the letter and slipped it into her apron pocket. “I must go and make certain that Cook isn’t putting too much pepper into the stew. You know how heavy a hand she has at times.”
Resolute, Loris turned and strode to the door. She set her hand upon the handle and prayed that it would open. It didn’t. Kian’s magic had locked it.
“Open … this … door.” She said each word slowly and distinctly so that he knew just how serious she was.
“Loris—”
“Open this door,” she repeated more loudly. “Now.”
He was silent, waiting, and Loris began to tremble. If there was anything she hated, it was showing weakness in front of Kian. He would either mock her or try to be kind, and she wanted neither from him.
“Kian,” she said, her voice wavering badly. “Don’t do this to me. Please.”
“Loris,” he said again, much closer now. She realized that he had used his magic to silently move up behind her, which was something she’d always felt was ungentlemanly. Under different circumstances she would have railed at him, perhaps even struck him, but at the moment she could only think of the awfulness of being so far away from Tylluan. Since she’d come to live there ten years past, she’d not been more than half a day’s journey from the castle, and then only to buy goods in the nearby towns and make a quick return.
Even those brief journeys had been difficult, and she’d felt an urgency to be safely back within Tylluan’s borders.
Everything
that she loved, all that constituted her happiness, was here. A miracle had brought her to this perfect place. If she went away, especially so far as London, she might never find a way to come back.
Loris was shaking so hard now that she scarce felt Kian’s fingers tentatively touch her shoulder. She instinctively jerked away, pressing closer to the door.
“No,” she managed, furious with both him and herself. “No!”
“Let me help you,” he murmured, slowly, so slowly, putting his arms about her. “I can make it better. Let me.”
It was the same promise he’d given her on that night so long ago, in the alley outside the Red Fox, when he’d soothed the pain in her stinging cheek with but the touch of his hand. And it was the same promise he’d given any number of times since then, when she’d been troubled. It was one of his gifts, and no matter how they fought, he had never withheld it. Yet, somehow, Loris had never learned to willingly accept any kindness that Kian offered, even when she needed it.
“I can’t leave,” she said as he turned her stiff, unyielding body toward him. She was horrified to hear tears in her voice. If she began to weep in front of him she’d never be able to live with herself. “I won’t go. You told me … you promised me …”
His chest was warm and comfortingly solid as he folded her tightly into his embrace. Her legs, which had been trembling so badly that she thought they might give way, were suddenly relieved of the burden of carrying her weight.
“There is no need to be so overset,” he told her. “I gave you my promise that I would always keep you safe, and I will keep that promise, just as I’ve kept the others. Tylluan is your home. You’d not be made to give it up, even if you wished to.”
“Wishing means very little to a woman,” she said haltingly against the cloth of his coat. “I have no means of leaving London on my own, of finding my way back to Tylluan. I do not possess a carriage, or horses, or have a driver. I don’t even have enough funds to buy a ticket on the post coach. I would walk, if I had to, but I”—she swallowed back a sob—“I wouldn’t know which road to take.”
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