A Lady and Her Magic

  “With pleasure,” Finn smirked as he tossed the bag over his shoulder. Finn grunted when Ronald kicked him in the back through the bag.

  ***

  Sophia felt as though the wind was taking her breath, and she’d never been so strangled, not in all the many times she’d ridden the wind back to the land of the fae. She held tightly to Margaret’s fingertips until a sob welled within her. The woman reached for her and drew Sophia into her arms.

  “I was wondering how long you could maintain,” the maid murmured. She stroked Sophia’s back gently. But then Sophia looked up. Ronald was there in the wind with them for a moment. But suddenly, a darkly clad arm reached into the mist and jerked him from it. Ronald let out an oath and disappeared from sight.

  “What the devil?” Margaret breathed.

  “He pulled him back.” Sophia’s heart leapt. “Why would he do such a thing?”

  “Your duke knows the gnome is the keeper of wishes.” Margaret didn’t look very pleased.

  “You don’t think…” Sophia began. But it was too ludicrous to even consider.

  “I do think,” Margaret said. She shook her head. “He’s a fool if he thinks he can get to the land of the fae using a wish.”

  Suddenly, Sophia reached for her reticule. She opened it quickly and pressed a hand to her heart when she saw what was inside. She tipped it over and not a thing fell out.

  “Where is your dust?” Margaret cried. Her face blanched white.

  “I don’t know,” Sophia said, suddenly unable to take a full breath.

  “You’re going to be in big trouble, miss,” Margaret said, shaking her head.

  Yes, she was.

  Twenty-Nine

  Sophia stepped off the wind when it stopped swirling, still clutching tightly to Margaret’s hand. The grass always seemed greener in the land of the fae. But aside from that, it was no different from Ashley’s land. Aside from the magic, that is. For once, the grass didn’t look greener. It didn’t smell nicer. The sun didn’t shine more brightly. All because Ashley wasn’t there.

  “Sophia,” Marcus called from the front door of their home. “Glad to see you finally arrived.” He leaned casually in the doorway. But he nearly vibrated with tension. “Do come in and join us,” he said with a nod of his head.

  Us. The Trusted Few had arrived already. Sophia took a deep breath for fortification and pushed past Marcus into the house. “Where is Grandmother?” Sophia asked.

  “She stayed with Mother,” he whispered out the side of his mouth.

  Sophia tripped over her own toe. “She didn’t return?”

  “Apparently, she knew she wasn’t returning when she left. There’s a bit of a tale that you’ll need to hear.” Sophia let Buncomb, the butler, take her pelisse. “I had to hear it twice before I believed a word of it.”

  Sophia nodded and stepped into the drawing room. Four gentlemen came to their feet and waited for her to curtsy to them. “Gentlemen,” she said, slightly distracted by the fact that there were only four. “Where’s Grandfather?” she asked.

  Marcus’s face fell. “It appears as though Grandfather is ill.”

  “Ill?”

  “Gravely ill,” Marcus said, his frown deepening, just as the furrows between his brows did.

  “He was fine when we left. We should really send for Grandmother.” She pressed a hand to her lips. “But we don’t have Ronald.”

  Marcus looked around as though he could find him behind the furniture. “Where is Ronald?”

  “The Duke of Robinsworth jerked him from the wind at the last moment.”

  The Trusted Few put their heads together and began to grumble almost silently, shooting heated glances in Sophia’s direction.

  Marcus leaned closer to her and whispered, “From what I can tell, all of this is Grandfather’s doing.”

  “Where is he?”

  Marcus nodded toward the back of the house, where Grandfather and Grandmother’s quarters were.

  “I’ll go to him immediately,” she said, starting in that direction.

  “Don’t be too startled by what you find, Soph,” Marcus said, his voice softening. “It was a bit of a shock to me as well.”

  Sophia rushed down the corridor and knocked only momentarily before barging into the room when a maid opened the door. “Grandfather!” she cried when she saw him lying beneath the counterpane, his face gravely white.

  “Is he dead?” she asked the maid.

  “Not yet,” her grandfather croaked from beneath the counterpane tucked around him. “I have a few things to set to rights before that happens.”

  Sophia dropped to sit beside him on the bed and took his hand in hers. “You were well when I left.”

  “I wasn’t,” he said. He shook as his body was wracked by a fit of coughing. She lifted a glass of water to his lips and waited while he settled. “That’s why I put things in motion the way I did. I couldn’t tell you about it. Or I’d ruin your mission.”

  “You put things in motion.” What on earth did that mean?

  “I think Grandfather has some things to explain,” Marcus said from the doorway.

  “I had some wrongs to right,” Grandfather said. Then he was wracked by coughs again. He was deathly pale when he calmed.

  “We should go and get Grandmother,” Sophia urged Marcus.

  “She’ll be along shortly,” Grandfather breathed. “If that duke of yours and that son-in-law of mine can figure out how to get by the fish.” He chuckled lightly, which caused a new fit of coughing. “Let’s hope they’re smarter than they look.” He settled against the linens and closed his eyes. “Let me rest for a moment, will you?” he groaned.

  “Of course.” She kissed his weathered old cheek and stood up.

  She walked toward Marcus, who still hovered in the doorway. “What did he mean about getting past the fish?”

  Marcus dropped an arm around her shoulders and guided her down the corridor. “I have a bit of a story to tell you, Soph,” he began. He winced as though it was painful. “More than a bit, actually.”

  “When do you plan to get started?”

  ***

  Ashley stepped up to the doorway of Viscount Ramsdale’s home and was rewarded by the door opening without him even having to knock. The butler did raise a brow, however, when the duke cursed beneath his breath. “Sod off, Ronald,” he grunted as he lowered the burlap sack to rest beside his leg. The butler stepped back when the bag fidgeted at his feet.

  Ashley reached into his pocket for a calling card and presented it to the butler. “If you don’t go and find Ramsdale for me, I’m going to let it bite you,” Ashley warned, when the man spent too much time staring at the bag. He ducked his head and motioned for Ashley to follow him into the foyer.

  The butler disappeared for no longer than a moment, when Ramsdale himself rushed around the corner. “Please tell me my daughter decided not to go,” he said, looking around Ashley as though he might have Sophia tucked in a pocket somewhere.

  “I’m afraid not,” Ashley grimaced. “She caught the wind first thing this morning.”

  “Where the devil did she catch the wind? I thought I’d at least get to see her off,” Ramsdale groused.

  The man must not have known that Sophia had spent the night with him. And Ashley wasn’t certain it would be a good idea to inform him. A father on a rampage wasn’t something he wanted to deal with at present. Just then, a flurry of yellow dashed around the corner and barreled directly into Ashley’s side. He caught the slip of a girl and held her out from him. She looked very much like Sophia, and he could well imagine what Sophia looked like when she was younger. But she was the girl he’d met while waiting in the corridor all night for Sophia, her younger sister. She curtsied quickly.

  “I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” she s
aid.

  “What have I told you about running in the house?” her father warned, his tone not harsh at all.

  “Don’t run in the house. Don’t fly in the house. Can I do anything in the house?” the girl quipped. A grin tugged at Ashley’s lips.

  “I hope you have a house full of daughters one day,” Ramsdale said. The youngest Ramsdale scurried on down the corridor. “Follow me,” the viscount muttered as he started toward the back of the house. Ashley bent to pick up the bag, which had grown strangely quiet. “What do you have there?” Ramsdale asked as Ashley lowered it to the Aubusson rug in his study.

  “One very angry garden gnome,” Ashley said. The viscount reached toward the bag. “It bites,” Ashley warned.

  “Quite right,” the viscount said, bending to rub his ankle as he obviously remembered something. What Ashley wouldn’t give to know what it was. “It he alright in there? It looks awfully still.”

  Ashley kicked the side of the sack with the side of his boot. Ronald cursed. Prolifically. “Seems fine to me,” Ashley said, settling into a chair.

  “What can I do for you, Robinsworth?” Ramsdale said as he sat down and steepled his hands in front of him.

  “My list is long and varied,” Ashley said hesitantly.

  “Start at the top, shall we?” Ramsdale was awfully calm. Almost too calm.

  “He had inappropriate relations with Sophia,” Ronald called through the burlap sack.

  Ramsdale sat back and his eyebrows arched up nearly high enough to meet his hairline. “He had better be saying that to make me want to kill you. Because I will.”

  Ashley had no doubt of it. He opened his mouth to speak.

  “She spent the night in his bed last night,” Ronald called, his voice muffled by the bag. Ashley should have stuffed the gnome’s mouth full of his cravat.

  Ashley scrubbed at his face with his hand and kicked the side of the bag. Hard. “Shut it,” he growled. “That’s why I’m here, sir,” he attempted.

  “To admit that you took advantage of my daughter.” Ramsdale choked out.

  “To ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage,” Ashley rushed on.

  “Put the cart before the horse, did you?” Ramsdale looked none too pleased. In fact, he looked murderous.

  “She came to see me last night to retrieve Ronald.”

  Ramsdale didn’t say a word.

  “He was holding me hostage,” the bag squawked.

  “It’s true. I was. I knew she would come for him,” Ashley admitted. “I like to think she would have come anyway.”

  “I like to think she wouldn’t,” Ramsdale countered.

  “I love her,” Ashley admitted. “I told her that last night. So, you may as well know. And, with your blessing, I’d like to marry her.”

  “Now that you’ve defiled her, you think I should allow you to take her from me?” Ramsdale leapt to his feet and began to stalk across the room. “I’ve only just found her, man. Couldn’t you have allowed me a few moments with her as my little girl?”

  “With all due respect, it’s not my fault you missed six-and-twenty years with her, Ramsdale.”

  His comment hung in the air like a bad stench. No one inhaled. No one exhaled. It was as though the world stopped.

  Finally, Ramsdale’s shoulders slumped. “You plan to make it right by her,” he said.

  “Of course,” Ashley agreed.

  “It wasn’t a question, Robinsworth. You’ll marry my daughter or you might just find yourself tossed from your own bloody tower.” He glared at Ashley until Ashley couldn’t stand it any longer.

  A laugh built within him. He couldn’t fight it. Finally, it burst from his chest. Of all the things people had said to him in the past, no one had ever threatened to kill him in the way his wife was murdered. And by doing so, Ramsdale had just bought his respect for life.

  “If I don’t make it right, I’ll toss my own bloody self from my own sodding tower, by God.”

  Ramsdale nodded. “I’ll hold you to it.”

  The bag squawked. “When the two of you are done having intercourse, I’d like to come out of the burlap.”

  “Ronald, is that you?” Ramsdale asked.

  “Set me free and find out,” the gnome taunted.

  Ramsdale didn’t move toward the bag. Instead, he muttered to himself, “I’d better get my wife.”

  That was probably a good idea. A low whistle emanated from the bag, and Ashley rolled his eyes at the sound of it. “You should be treading the boards, Ronald,” Ashley muttered. “So much theatrics bottled up within such a small body.”

  “Small,” the bag harrumphed. “I might be small in stature, but I’m mighty in will.”

  Suddenly, Lady Ramsdale burst into the room as though the hounds of hell were upon her heels. She skidded to a halt just in front of Ashley. “It took you long enough to show up.”

  Ashley tugged his watch fob from his pocket and glanced at it. It was barely morning yet. “Next time my lady leaves me for a make-believe land, I’ll try to be more prompt when I arrive to bid you retrieve her.”

  Lady Ramsdale scoffed. “Retrieve her? If you are here to bid me to retrieve her, you are sorely mistaken, Your Grace. I have neither the magic nor the strength.”

  Ashley toed the burlap bag. “I have the magic and the strength,” he said. “Well, I have directions,” he corrected. Or at least he could. He hoped.

  She raised one brow as she eyed the bag. “What’s in the bag?”

  “Hello, Lady Ramsdale,” Ronald called from inside.

  The good lady covered her mouth as a small shriek erupted. “Ronald!” she cried. She reached for the bag. But Ashley stepped between her and the object.

  “Apologies, Lady Ramsdale, but his capture earns me a wish. But only if I free him.” He quickly tugged the rope that tied the bag closed. It slumped forward as Ronald wiggled within. His head popped free of the bag, his hair standing straight up like a red flag. His face was the color of a tomato. Sweat stained his underarms and shimmered on his upper lip.

  “Ronald,” Lady Ramsdale said, her words coated with affection, just as much as her eyes shimmered with tears.

  He bowed low before her. As low as a garden gnome could go, which was pretty low.

  “Oh, don’t stand on such ridiculous ceremony, Ronald. It has been a long time.” She held out her hand to him and he pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her hand. She swiped a tear from her cheek.

  The gnome adjusted his clothing and tried to smooth his hair down, but failed miserably. “Please forgive the state of my dress. It’s not every day one is stuffed into a burlap sack and hauled across town.” He turned to glare at Ashley. “Upside down.” He snuffled. “With no air to breathe.” He coughed into his fist. “Forced to perspire.”

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” Lady Ramsdale said.

  “Hoped is more like it,” the viscount murmured. But his wife shot him a glance full of scorn. “Apologies,” he muttered.

  “I’ll have my wish,” Ashley said, enunciating each word clearly.

  The gnome turned to him with a snarl on his lips. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, a smile breaking across his face.

  Lady Ramsdale held up one finger. “Be careful, Robinsworth. Gnomes are wily little beasts.”

  Ronald looked overjoyed at the thought of being called wily. “Thank you,” he said, smiling up at her as though she hung the stars and the moon in the sky.

  Ashley didn’t know how to continue. “Would you like to give me a suggestion on how to word it?”

  “Well, what are your goals?” she asked. She shot her husband a sly glance.

  “I want Sophia.”

  “Seems to me you already had her,” the gnome murmured, his hip hitched on a footstool as
he appraised his fingernails much too closely. His mouth twisted with his stare.

  “Why you little…” Ashley said, bounding to his feet and grasping for the gnome.

  “He’s goading you on purpose,” a voice said from the doorway. Ashley turned to see Sophia’s grandmother standing in the entry. “He’s hoping you’ll waste your wish.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “So you say.” She laughed as she stepped into the room. “What’s your fondest desire, Your Grace? What do you want above all things?”

  “I want to spend the rest of my life with Sophia.” He didn’t even have to think about that one.

  “And what stands in your way?”

  “She’s in the land of the fae. And didn’t leave a map for me to follow. Nor do I have an inkling of how to get to her.” He exhaled heavily, feeling like bellows that had just been exhausted.

  “Can you swim, Your Grace?” she asked, her brows coming together as she glared at him intently.

  “You can wish for Ronald to lead you to the door,” Ramsdale tossed out.

  Ronald smirked. “Is that your wish?”

  “No!” everyone in the room cried at once.

  “Even if he gets to the door, he’ll need magic to open it.”

  Everyone looked to Sophia’s grandmother. “I need my magic to get me back through the portal. Much less the rest of you.”

  Ashley reached into his coat pocket and pulled forth several vials of shimmering dust. “How much magic will these buy for me?” he asked.

  The room stilled. Sophia’s grandmother held out one shaky hand. “Don’t move, Your Grace,” she said. She reached for the vials but he jerked his arms back. She hissed at him. “They are highly volatile. In other words, just waiting for the right time to explode when in the hands of the nonfae. It’s a defense mechanism.” She beckoned him forward. “Give them to me, so no one will be harmed.”

  He clutched them tighter in his palm, the vials slippery with sweat from his hands. “I think not,” he finally said. He turned to Ronald. “My wish is for you to take all of us to the portal.”