“You must leave that to Sian, I believe,” Malachi said, stroking a gentle finger across the sleeping baby’s cheek. “Look at that red hair. She’s going to be one of our greatest mystics. Well, Cousin,” he addressed Niclas, “are we ready for the day and whatever it may bring?”
“We are,” Niclas replied, then motioned to where Loris stood, Dyfed’s arm about her. “I’m not certain we can say the same for Loris, however.”
Lord Graymar gave Loris another appraising look as he moved to take one of her hands and turn her about. “I don’t see why she shouldn’t be,” he said. “She’s a diamond of the first water. We shall have to take turns fending off her suitors, especially if Lord Perham recognizes her as his granddaughter. Because then she’ll not only be incredibly beautiful,” Malachi said, lifting her chin with the tip of one finger and smiling into her face, “but wealthy as well. Very few men can resist such a devastating combination in a female.”
“They shall have to do so in my case, my lord,” she replied. “My intention is to return to Tylluan as soon as possible.”
“And leave behind dozens of broken hearts, no doubt,” said His Lordship. “Now, turn about and let me see precisely how elegant this gown is. Ah, very good. Excellent. Julia, your taste in color and cut is without equal. But there is one touch missing, I believe.”
Both Julia and Loris looked at him curiously.
“And what is that, my lord?” Julia asked.
Lord Graymar reached into his coat, pulling a slender box out of an inner pocket. He handed it to Loris.
“This,” he said simply.
All those present, save the twins, moved closer to watch as the box was opened, and murmured with surprise when she withdrew a gleaming strand of pearls.
“Oh, Malachi, they’re perfect,” Julia declared approvingly.
Loris gazed at the beautiful necklace in speechless wonder. She’d never seen anything so lovely in all her life. The beads were cool and slick beneath her fingers and glowed as if they had an inner light.
“Oh, Lord Graymar,” she murmured, “I’m quite sure I can’t accept these. They must be very valuable.”
“Nonsense,” His Lordship said, lifting the necklace from her shaking hand and stepping behind her. “Every young woman about to enter society should have a proper set of pearls.”
She shivered as he arranged the smooth white strand about her neck and fixed the clasp.
“Very pretty,” Niclas said, and Julia declared, “You were right, Malachi. They finish the dress perfectly.”
Loris gingerly lifted her hand to touch the necklace. “Thank you, my lord,” she whispered, and began to feel, with alarm, that she was going to weep, though whether from pleasure or fear she didn’t know. She wished, fervently, that she were back at Tylluan. Back where she was always confident and certain.
Lord Graymar stepped back and surveyed the result of his addition with satisfaction. “The pleasure is mine, Loris. You should have begun a collection of jewelry long before now, but we shall see whether we can’t make up for lost time. I will consult with Julia in the coming days regarding the proper jewels to complement the evening gowns you’ll be wearing.”
“Oh dear,” said Loris, wondering what she would do with such fine things back home. “Thank you, sir, but I really don’t need anything more. Do I, Julia?”
But Julia’s expression was filled with anticipation and approval, and Loris saw that she’d find no help in that quarter. She was about to appeal to Dyfed, but he was distracted in quiet conversation with Niclas and wasn’t paying attention.
“Don’t fret over the matter, my dear,” Lord Graymar said dismissively. “Now, are you ready to go and meet Lord Perham? I imagine he’s becoming rather desperate, having been put off for so many days.”
“Yes, my lord,” she said, though inwardly she was quaking with fear. “I’m ready.”
Dyfed approached and took Loris gently by the elbow. “Will you give us a moment alone, Malachi?” he asked, guiding Loris in the direction of the parlor door. “I only want a word with her in private before you go.”
Lord Graymar frowned slightly but said, “I suppose five minutes more or less won’t matter to Lord Perham after weeks of waiting. But be quick, Dyfed.”
He led her to the library, where they were alone, and shut the doors. Turning to face her, he said, “Are you all right, Loris?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, her tone unnaturally high. She folded her shaking hands together tightly. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Niclas said you were about to cry,” Dyfed said.
“Well, that’s … he’s …” She blinked back the tears that were insistently forcing their way forward. “Do you know, Dyfed,” she said, the words trembling badly, “it’s most unpleasant to be the only person in this household who is not immune to your cousin’s gift.”
The last word came out half-strangled, and she promptly burst into tears.
“Oh, Loris,” Dyfed murmured, gathering her into his arms. “Darling Loris. Don’t cry, love. I know how hard this is for you.” He stroked her back with one hand and with the other cradled her head, his fingers buried in her hair. “But it will be over soon, and then we’ll go home to Tylluan.”
“I feel so guilty,” she said, sobbing. “Julia and Niclas and Lord Graymar, they’ve all been so kind, and I am grateful. I truly am.”
“Shhh,” Dyfed murmured. “I know.”
“B-but I don’t wish to be a lady, and I don’t wish to go to parties and balls and make a splash. And Lord Perham is going to find me a dreadful creature with n-no manners, just as Julia’s friends have. But what else can I do when everyone is so kind and Lord Graymar is giving me pearls?”
“Lord Perham isn’t going to think you a dreadful creature, love. And Malachi doesn’t want to do anything but make you happy by giving you the pearls. If you don’t wish to go to parties and balls, you need only say so. We simply won’t go. No one will force you, believe me. I won’t let them.”
She hugged him tightly. “I know, Dyfed. If it weren’t for you, I should be so wretched. I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away and wiping her face with her bare fingers. The weeping stopped almost as quickly as it had begun. “I’ll be better now.” She sniffed loudly.
“Here, let me.” He took a handkerchief from a pocket and lifted her face to dab at her wet cheeks. “You’d better run upstairs and splash a little cold water on your face. Everyone’s going to know you’ve been crying, but the signs should have faded by the time you reach Perham’s home.”
“I hate to cry,” she said unhappily. “It’s such a childish thing to do. I’d blame it on Kian, but he’s not here.” She drew in a breath, striving to calm herself. “How I wish he was.”
Dyfed fell still and gazed down at her. “What did you say?”
She sniffed again. “I said that if Kian was here, I’d blame my foolish weeping on him.”
“No, after that. Did you say that you wish Kian was here?”
Loris wondered if Dyfed wasn’t more weary than she’d supposed. “No, of course not. Why would I say such a thing?”
“It doesn’t signify,” he said. “Are you feeling better now that you’ve shed a few tears?”
She did feel better, she realized, and reached up to kiss him lightly. “Much better, Dyfed. Thank you. I’ll be fine now. I’m sorry for being so foolish.”
He kissed her, too, and said, “You’re not foolish, Loris. I love you dearly. You know that, don’t you? I want you to be happy.”
She smiled. “I love you, too. And I’m so glad you’re here with me.”
“I’m glad as well,” he said, but she recognized the gallantry behind the word. It was obvious by the pain that lurked in the depths of his eyes that he wished he were elsewhere and with someone else entirely. “Hurry now. Run upstairs and wash your face. Malachi doesn’t like to wait.”
Chapter Twelve
Dyfed was right. Lord Graymar, and everyone else, knew that she’d
been crying when she came back downstairs, ready to depart. But it was Lord Graymar who sat beside her in his elegant carriage, patting her hand and speaking reassuringly.
“You must believe me when I tell you that you’ve nothing to fear,” he said. “You belong to the Seymours as surely as if you’d been born into the family, and we take care of those who are ours. You’ve been as a daughter to my uncle Ffinian and as a sister to Dyfed. I won’t speak of what lies between you and Kian, for I know that the curse has made it difficult for you to hear.”
“Lord Graymar,” she began, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“We won’t speak of it further. I only wish to make you understand that no matter what happens today, you have a family that loves and will protect and care for you. Always.”
“Thank you, my lord. The words will seem trite, but I truly am more grateful than I can say.”
“Loris,” he said with a touch of impatience, “please do call me Malachi. You’ve known me long enough to assume that familiarity.”
“Thank you,” she said again. “Malachi.”
“You’re stiff as a poker,” he said. “If you wish, I could perform a certain enchantment that would—”
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m fine. Truly. Kian has done that to me before, and if it should be done again without my permission I cannot promise that you won’t be terribly unhappy with my response, my lord, once I’ve regained my senses. I mean to say, Malachi.”
He laughed, inexplicably amused by this. “Very well, then. I shall restrain from calming you by magic. We’ll be arriving at Lord Perham’s home shortly. Shall I tell you something of him before then?”
“Yes,” she said eagerly. “Please.”
“He’s an elderly gentleman,” His Lordship began, settling into the cushioned seat more comfortably. “Quite wealthy, descended of one of the older families. Well connected. His wife died five years ago, and his only child, a daughter, ran off with a neighbor’s son eighteen years before. He believes that she was pregnant at that time, though he cannot be certain. He’s been trying to find that daughter, or his grandchild, since his wife’s death. Evidently she had prohibited such efforts while she was alive.”
“But why?” Loris asked. “Didn’t she wish to find her daughter?”
“From what I’ve been able to discover, Lady Perham wasn’t possessed of the usual maternal nature found in most females. She never wished to have children and resented the one she believed Lord Perham forced her to bear. She also didn’t wish to be made a grandmother at too early an age, being one of these women blessed with youthful looks. Apparently, when she believed her unmarried—and unbetrothed—daughter to be with child, there was an attempt at forcing the daughter to be rid of it. Some kind of poison was secreted into the girl’s cup one night at dinner.”
“God’s mercy,” Loris whispered, horrified.
“It came to naught, however, as the young woman recovered and did not miscarry. Which is why Lord Perham isn’t certain that the girl was ever pregnant to begin with.”
“What happened after she recovered?”
“She fled with the young man,” Malachi said, “never to return. Which was unfortunate, as the young man in question was something of a wastrel and given to a good deal of gambling and drink.”
Loris stiffened. “My father was not a wastrel,” she said hotly. “And if he was given to gambling and drink, he certainly never let it bring us to ruin.” At Malachi’s patient look, she amended, reluctantly, “Entirely, anywise.” Looking out the window, she asked, “What was his family like? The young man’s?”
“Their name was McClendon,” he said.
“Scottish?” she asked, looking back at him with quick interest.
“Possibly,” Malachi replied, smiling. “It would explain a great deal about you.”
Loris’s eyebrows rose.
“Your thriftiness,” he explained. “And your strict management of Castle Tylluan. It might interest you to know that the addition of Scottish blood has always been of particular benefit to the Seymours. One of our most well-loved forebears, Glenys Seymour, had a Scottish mother, and she is the one who wed Lord Eneinoig, a mere mortal who renewed the strength of our bloodline and brought us back to an understanding with the spirit world.”
Loris felt a little swell of pride. “Of course. That makes perfect sense. Loris McClendon,” she said, testing the sound of it. “I like it. What else do you know of them?”
“The father—your father’s father—was the rector at Perham. He and his wife, both departed now, had three children. An elder son, who has died, leaving neither wife nor children behind, a daughter, who has married and borne children of her own—these would be your aunt and cousins—and a younger son, who Lord Perham believes is your father. The younger McClendon was the wild and undisciplined man of whom I spoke earlier. He and Perham’s daughter ran away together, and neither has been heard of since.”
Loris sat quietly, pondering the things Lord Graymar had said. After a moment she sighed and said quietly, “I never knew my last name, you know. My father changed it each time we moved. It was Smith or Andrews or Clay. He never told me what it really was.”
“Which is precisely why Lord Perham isn’t certain that you’re his granddaughter. And you may not be, Loris. You must prepare your heart for both eventualities.”
“Yes, I know,” she agreed solemnly. “May I tell you something in confidence, my lord?” She gave herself a mental shake and said, “Malachi.”
“If I were your lord, Loris,” he said, “I would readily give you my oath of secrecy. But you know that I am not. Another is, of whom we have already agreed we will not speak. I will keep secret all that you tell me, save from him, if he should ask me for such knowledge.”
“Kian Seymour is only my lord as master of Tylluan,” she told him. “He certainly won’t care to know what I wish to say. He sent me to London to meet Lord Perham.”
“What is it, then?”
“It’s difficult to say,” she began, “for I’ve often wished to know who my parents’ people were. But if Lord Perham is not my grandfather, I think what I’m going to feel more than anything else is relief.” She hesitated. “Is that wrong of me?”
Malachi was thoughtful, then said, “I don’t believe it is. You love Tylluan and wish to remain there, and a grandfather who is not of magic blood complicates matters. From my own experience of him, I do not believe that Lord Perham is one of our sympathetics. If that is true, and if he should prove implacable in not understanding our kind, then a relationship with him would prove difficult. You would have to make a choice, and as I know that it is impossible for you to part from Kian for any great length of time, I have no doubt of what that choice must be.”
Out of respect for the earl, Loris refrained from arguing with him about his assertion regarding her relationship with Kian. It would have been churlish to naysay Malachi, and fruitless as well. The Earl of Graymar wasn’t given to being corrected. She focused, instead, on what else he had said.
“Are you quite certain, sir?” she asked. “That Lord Perham couldn’t one day become a sympathetic?”
A sympathetic was a mere mortal who understood and accepted magic mortals. Sympathetics sometimes married into magic Families and helped to keep them safe. Seymours were especially fond of uniting with such beings, for rather than diluting their powers, the mixing of bloods increased them.
“No, I’m not,” he confessed. “I do not know the man well, and have only dealt with him in regard to meeting you. Perhaps you might discover something in him that will give us an answer.”
“Perhaps,” she said as the carriage came to a stop outside of a very large town house. Loris looked out at it, and her heart gave a leap of fear.
“Malachi.” Her voice sounded thin even to her own ears. “Please stay with me.”
He took her gloved hand and squeezed it lightly. “I will. Don’t be afraid, Loris. You’re in the care of the Dewin Mawr, and Lord
Perham is but a mere mortal. Nothing so very terrible can happen, can it?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured as the carriage door was opened. “He may well be a grandparent, and I’ve heard that they are the most powerful beings alive.”
Lord Perham’s town house was built on a grand scale; in fact, it looked more like an imperial mansion than a mere dwelling. Malachi was clearly comfortable with such surroundings, but Loris found them to be daunting. Which struck her as odd, considering that she lived in a beautiful medieval castle.
A butler in elegant costume opened the door and led them into an impressive entryway with marble floors and fragile antiques lining the walls.
“His Lordship awaits you,” said the butler, and motioned for them to follow him.
Malachi took Loris’s hand and set it upon his arm, and she found that her feet moved forward whether she wished them to or not.
The large room they were taken to was at once imposing and inviting, with ornate furnishings and a fireplace burning merrily in the far wall. Lord Perham was sitting in a chair near that fire, a book resting on his lap and a glass filled with an amber liquid in one hand, halfway to his lips. The glass was put back on a nearby table when they entered the room, and Lord Perham stood, closing the book and putting it aside as well.
He was a tall, slender, distinguished-looking gentleman, with a thick crown of white hair and neatly trimmed mustache. He gazed at Loris very directly, and she gazed at him, both trying to find some resemblance to the woman they remembered, one as daughter, one as mother.
Loris had been seven when her mother had died and had nothing but the dimmest of memories to remember what she had looked like. This very fine gentleman stirred nothing within her, and yet she couldn’t say that he wasn’t her grandfather. From the forbidding expression on his face Loris wondered if he wasn’t having the same trouble.
“Is this the girl then, Graymar?” Lord Perham’s tone was calm and steady, nearly absent emotion.
Malachi’s hand was warm and comforting on Loris’s back, and as he prodded her forward he replied graciously, “This is she. We do not know her last name, and have always called her by the first, which is Loris.”
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