A Lady and Her Magic

  She supposed that he should. His hand fell from her thigh, and he gave her bottom a bump to eject her from his lap. She rose quickly and circled around the bench. “I can find my own way back,” she said. But could she? Not very likely. She didn’t even remember how she’d gotten to his chamber in the first place. Sophia glanced down at her nightrail and immediately felt much too exposed. “Oh, dear,” she muttered.

  Ashley crossed to his bed and picked up his robe, then draped it over her shoulders. “You can’t walk back looking like that.” He smiled broadly at her. “If my footmen saw you in your nightrail, I’d never be able to get them back on task.”

  How ridiculous. “I highly doubt they’d notice.”

  “I can’t do anything but notice,” the duke muttered. She closed the robe around her body. It hung all the way to the floor. Only a complete ninny would journey out without appropriate clothing. She flexed her toes in the rug.

  “Would you like for me to carry you?”

  Her heart leapt at the very idea.

  “That won’t be necessary. But thank you.” It was almost as though she was turning down tea, rather than his actual proposal that he wrap her up in his strong arms and carry her all the way back to her chamber. How scandalous.

  He walked to his door and turned the handle slowly. “Shall we?” he asked, as he held out his crooked elbow.

  Shall we walk back to your bedchamber and pretend like I’m not in my nightrail, wearing your robe? Why, certainly! She took his arm, relishing the way his muscles contracted as soon as her fingers wrapped around him.

  She felt the need to apologize for interrupting his quiet time. “I’m sorry,” she said, as they started down the corridor.

  “Sorry for?” A lock of hair tumbled across his forehead as he looked down at her.

  “For being a bother,” she began. But she couldn’t find appropriate words. She stumbled over her own tongue.

  “You weren’t a bother.” He held up a hand to stop her when she would have protested. “You are a delightful breath of fresh air.”

  “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming at any moment?” she murmured.

  “But,” he finally said. “I care for your reputation even if you don’t.”

  “I don’t give a good damn about my reputation,” she said. But ladies didn’t speak in such a way, did they? Not true ladies. She groaned beneath her breath.

  He chuckled. “I give a good enough damn about your reputation for both of us.”

  They were quickly approaching the door to her bedchamber. She’d tried to remember the path through the maze of corridors that was the Hall. Hopefully, she would remember adequately. They stopped in front of her door.

  “Good night, Your Grace,” she said softly. But she gasped when she looked up at his face. His eyes intently peered into hers, as though his gaze alone could divulge what was in his soul.

  “I need to warn you of something, Sophie.” Not Sophia. Sophie. She liked that.

  “All doom and gloom again, are you?”

  “Take me seriously,” he said, his voice crisp as clean bed linens. But not nearly as cold. In fact, his voice was as hot as a fire on a cold winter’s night. He cupped the side of her face in his hand. “The next time you come to my room, Sophie, be prepared for me to kiss you.”

  He wanted to kiss her? She wanted nothing more. But that was not part of her mission. She couldn’t mess this mission up. “Yes, Ashley,” she whispered.

  He inclined his head swiftly and left her standing there in her doorway. She watched him as he strode away, his steps swift and full of self-assurance. It was only when he was gone that she realized she still wore his robe. She brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply. Yes, she’d be fully prepared for him to kiss her. That’s why she must stay out of his room and out of his path entirely. It was necessary. Stay away from the duke. He was dangerous in more ways than one.

  ***

  Ashley turned a corner and cursed himself for being raised a gentleman. Any other man would have tossed Sophia Thorne onto his bed and not let her come up for air until the next morning. Damn his sense of decorum. Damn his desire to do the right thing. Damn his moral hide. He had a raging manhood, a desire for Sophie that wouldn’t be easily appeased, and now he couldn’t get the little minx off his mind. He stopped and started to go back to her. But then a door opened to his left and his brother stepped directly into his path.

  “What the devil?” Finn muttered as Ashley nearly bowled him over.

  Ashley regarded Finn’s state of dress, which mirrored his own. Their valets would skewer them if they knew they’d been seen in public in such a state. But it was the middle of the night, after all. Finn’s neck was bare, his shirt hanging open. Ashley glanced down at himself. His shirt was untucked. Thank God, it was untucked, or he could be forced to explain the state of his manhood. Fortunately, the very sight of his brother was taking care of that for him.

  “Where have you been?” Finn asked.

  “You first,” Ashley grunted. He glanced toward the door Finn had just exited and raised an eyebrow.

  “Must you know everything?” Finn murmured with disgust as he turned to walk toward his own room. A mere day ago, his brother had been lamenting the loss of his mistress. Not to mention his prowess when the woman had complained about his lack of “attention to her needs.”

  “That mistress is off your mind, I assume?” Ashley asked casually.

  “What mistress?” Finn asked with a grin. Then he raised a brow of his own and looked down his nose at Ashley. Not an easy feat when his brother was an inch shorter than he was. “Who were you with? Anne’s room is at the end of the opposite end of the house.”

  “I was escorting a lost lady back to her chamber,” Ashley admitted. No need to tell him who the lady was, was there?

  “And you just happened to stumble upon her in the corridor?” Finn scoffed. “Try that on someone who doesn’t know what a recluse you are. You rarely leave your chambers.”

  “Perhaps I’m changing,” Ashley tried.

  “Perhaps you’re a poor liar,” Finn laughed. “How is Miss Thorne?” he asked casually.

  “Perplexing,” Ashley admitted.

  “Perplexing can be good,” Finn tried.

  “It can?”

  “On occasion,” Finn said with a shrug. He stopped and regarded Ashley with seriousness. “You like this chit?”

  “She’s not a chit,” Ashley began. But Finn just smiled. Damn his brother for knowing him so well. Ashley didn’t know how to continue. But his brother would certainly understand his reticence.

  “What do you know of her?”

  Finn was a bit of a sleuth. “She’s quite unique,” Ashley said. Give Finn an inch and he’d take a mile. He’d know more about Sophie than Ashley did within days. He clamped his lips shut.

  “I don’t want her shoe size, Robin,” he said.

  Tiny. Her feet were tiny.

  “Specifics, Robin,” Finn snapped.

  “One grandmother, with whom she’s traveling. That’s all I know.” Aside from the fact that she had flashing hazel eyes that reminded him of a golden meadow, then a forest at dusk. Damn, it had been too long since he’d had a woman.

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “I don’t want her to know,” Ashley started, resigning himself to the fact that Finn would put his nose in where it didn’t belong. And that he would do so with glee.

  “You don’t want her to know you like her? I’m afraid it’s too late for that. Because you’d not leave the safety of your chambers to visit some lady you’ve no interest in.”

  “I really dislike you at times,” Ashley said.

  Finn clapped him on the back. “I know. I feel the same way about you.”

  Eight

  Sophia woke early the
next day, despite Margaret’s grumblings about having been kept up all night and then being expected to rise at the crack of dawn.

  “And I returned His Grace’s clothing to his valet,” Margaret said, her voice full of censure. “Though I’ve no idea why you ended up in his clothing at all.” She sniffed with disdain.

  Sophia rolled her eyes. “I didn’t end up in his clothing.”

  “Then it was my imagination that you were wrapped up in his dressing gown this morning?” Margaret snorted. “I thought Simmons was going to kiss me when I returned it, he was that excited. It was all I could do to evade the man’s grasp. He has an affinity for the duke’s clothing.”

  “Perhaps he takes his job seriously?” Sophia taunted. Margaret had been with Sophia’s family since long before Sophia was born. She had been her mother’s maid at one time, though Margaret never spoke of her. Servants in their land were different from servants in England. They took much more liberty and weren’t held to societal standards.

  “He certainly takes the duke’s clothing seriously. You’d think the man had spun the threads himself.”

  “I don’t think men here do that sort of thing,” Sophia said absently, as she appraised the upsweep Margaret was making of her hair. She’d left just enough trailing to tickle Sophia’s neck. But the rest was piled atop her head in an artful arrangement. One Sophia would surely ruin as soon as she left the room.

  “Are you certain I can’t wear it down?” Sophia pressed lightly on the tips of her pointy ears to ensure they were hidden in the mass of hair. The duke would get quite a surprise if he noticed that particular trait. It was one of the only pieces of evidence that marked her as fae.

  Margaret batted at her hands. “No one can see them. So, stop your fussing. I know you’d rather wear it down, but you can’t go out looking like a gypsy, no matter how much you’d like to,” Margaret warned. “The duke wouldn’t like having another hoyden under his roof.”

  “Another?” Sophia turned to face Margaret. “Who’s the other?”

  “His daughter, from what I hear below stairs. She’s quite a bit untamable.” Margaret poked at Sophia’s curls and grimaced. “A lot like your hair.”

  “I sincerely doubt anyone will be up at this hour,” Sophia said with a toss of her head, which threatened to dislodge her coiffure. She patted at the tightly restrained curls. They’d be down around her shoulders within an hour. At least then she wouldn’t have to worry about her ears.

  “His Grace has breakfast every morning with his daughter around this time, before he goes riding,” Margaret said cryptically.

  Sophia had planned to spend the morning snooping. But if Lady Anne was up and about, and the duke would be going out, she might be able to spend some time with the girl instead. “Thank you for the information.” She pulled on her gloves and started for the door. “You haven’t seen Ronald lurking about, have you?”

  Margaret just shook her head. But then she sobered and looked at Sophia with all seriousness. “Be careful, miss,” she said.

  Sophia started down the corridor toward the common rooms downstairs. Her grandmother would still be in bed, since she’d spent most of the evening gambling with the dowager duchess. But if she hurried, Sophia might be able to catch Lady Anne once her father left. She felt a bit like a thief lingering in the shadows as she waited for some sign that the duke had left the area.

  The clearing of a throat caught her attention. “If you’d like lessons on how to lurk about without being seen, I’ll see if my brother is available,” the voice said. Sophia spun to face it, only to find a tall man with sandy hair, who looked remarkably like the duke but much lighter complexioned. His brother, if she had to wager.

  Sophia patted the hair over her ears, ensuring the tips were still hidden. This man would notice, otherwise. “I won an award once for lurking. I’m just a little out of practice.”

  His amber gaze walked lazily up and down her body, which made her feel decidedly uncomfortable. She shifted her stance. “You look like you might be good at subterfuge,” he acknowledged, his voice full of skepticism. People usually liked her. From the start. They never doubted her motives.

  “Perhaps there’s a future for me in professional lurking. It seems to be working for you.” She arched a playful brow at him. It probably would be best if the duke’s brother liked her, at least a little.

  “I took you for a professional. But a professional what is the question.” He let his voice trail off.

  Sophia squared her shoulders, fully prepared to give him a piece of her mind. Things happened when she got angry. And they weren’t always good things. In fact, they rarely were.

  “You don’t like me, do you?” he asked as he leaned casually against a doorjamb.

  “I wouldn’t say that.” She could easily loathe him, particularly if he stood between her and completing her mission.

  “Shall I go ahead and point out the elephant in the room? Or shall we continue to dance around him and pretend he’s not here?”

  “You needn’t compare me to an elephant, my lord. An ode to my beauty would please me so much more.” She smiled broadly at his taken-aback expression.

  “Score one for Miss Thorne,” he said with a low whistle.

  She made a big circle with her thumb and forefinger. “Score zero for the duke’s… brother?” she hesitated and then asked. She held out her hand to him. Perhaps she should make more of an effort. “Sophia Thorne, my lord.”

  He didn’t bother to give her his name as he took her hand and bowed over it.

  “I would say it has been nice to meet you,” Sophia began. And she couldn’t stop herself. “But I’d be lying.” Goodness, that was probably the wrong thing to say.

  “Practice makes perfect, Miss Thorne?” he asked.

  “Practice makes proficient,” she corrected. “Yet I didn’t carry that one off very well, did I?”

  “No, you quite adequately let me know how you feel about me.”

  “As did you,” she replied. “Though I’ve no idea why you disliked me at first sight.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s that I don’t trust you.”

  “Are you so distrustful of everyone you meet? Or just ladies?”

  “Is that what you are, Miss Thorne? A lady?”

  “I do try,” she replied drily.

  He leaned toward her as though to tell her a conspirator’s secret. “I do not allow anyone to hurt him, Miss Thorne. So, if your intentions with my brother are not honorable, I’d suggest you stop them now.”

  Sophia whispered dramatically back at him. “And what if he likes my dishonorable intentions? Shall we have him tell me that he doesn’t appreciate them?” She pointed toward the breakfast room where she knew he was behind the closed door. “We can ask him if he likes my attention or your protectiveness more.” She took a step toward the door. “Are you coming?” She turned back to look at him. “Or are you afraid of what he’ll say?”

  When he didn’t answer, she continued, fully irate and worried that her face was flushed scarlet. But she didn’t truly care. Real ladies didn’t get angry, did they? Good grief, she was messing this all up. She rubbed at her forehead.

  “I will find out all about you, Miss Thorne. I’m very good at it.”

  He would only find out her past if he could find the land of the fae, and that was blasted near impossible. Even she couldn’t find the portal without her dust. Much less get past the fish.

  “Good luck with that, my lord,” she said and she inserted herself directly into the room where the duke dined alone with his daughter. His footmen moved to block her path, but she paid them no heed.

  Ashley jumped to his feet, wiping his mouth quickly with his napkin. “Miss Thorne,” he choked. He looked over her shoulder toward his brother, who she knew stood scowling from the doorway.
“What’s going on?” he asked.

  Sophia picked up a biscuit from the sideboard and took a healthy bite. She chewed for a moment and then said, “Your brother distrusts me.”

  “He told you that?” the duke barked as he shot his brother a look. The duke’s brother just shrugged as though he didn’t care. Ashley cleared his throat. “I’m very sorry if he offered you any slight.”

  “Oh, he didn’t offend me. I find him to be quite amusing.”

  Now it was the offending brother’s face that turned red.

  “Amusing, Miss Thorne?” Ashley asked.

  She laid a hand on his sleeve. “Could you ask him to go away so I can join you for breakfast? I’d rather not eat with him breathing down my neck like a bloodhound.”

  “Well, that’s not very nice,” his brother protested.

  “True,” Sophia sighed. “It’s a terrible comparison for the hounds.” She looked up into Ashley’s still-startled face. “May I join you for breakfast?”

  At Ashley’s nod, a servant rushed forward and pulled out a chair for her. She perched delicately on it. “Good morning, Lady Anne,” she said to the grinning girl.

  “Yes, it is,” the duke murmured.

  ***

  Ashley filled a plate for her himself, trying to still his racing heart. He waved a servant away when he moved to take over the chore; Ashley needed a moment to compose himself before he faced her. At least he hoped he would be able to rid his face of the shock he felt all the way to his toes. He couldn’t immediately discern whether he was more surprised by the sight of her or the look on his brother’s face as she took him to task. First his daughter, now his meddlesome brother. She was a formidable creature, even if she was tiny. He let his gaze roam up and down her body as he placed a plate in front of her.

  “One might think you have plans for something other than breakfast, Your Grace, with the way you’re appraising my person,” she murmured quietly to him. Good God. Did the woman ever have a thought that didn’t rush out of her mouth like a team of runaway horses? He was starting to doubt it.

  “My father doesn’t gobble ladies up in one bite,” Lady Anne said primly.