The Magic of Love Series

by Margaret Locke

  “I must be mistaken. I meant the ... younger sister.”

  “Marianne? Truly?” Grace wrinkled her nose. “Think you not she’s a bit rash, hasty to action?”

  Yes. Much like me.

  “You’ve read the novel already? In America?” Emmeline’s face reflected her puzzlement. “My brother procured Grace a copy in November and said it had only recently been published.”

  Deveric said nothing, his eyes watching her intently.

  Way to help me out, dude.

  “Uh-h,” stammered Eliza. “Two women on the coach yesterday discussed it at length.”

  “When you weren’t sleeping, of course,” said Emmeline, her brows knitting together.

  “Yes, exactly. Perhaps one of the ladies in the coach was a Jane and I confused her name with the book. I was quite tired and often dozing, of course.” Sweat pooled in her armpits. Thank goodness the dress and undergarments were thick enough to hide it. Antiperspirant. Another thing I took for granted.

  Grace looked first to her brother and then dipped her head toward Eliza.

  “My apologies,” Deveric said, taking a step closer. “I forgot you had not yet been introduced. Grace, please meet Mrs. Eliza James, a Virginia cousin. She survived the fire and is to stay with us for ... a while. And E—Mrs. James, this is Lady Grace, my sister.”

  He’d nearly called her by her first name. Again. No one else had noticed, but it pleased Eliza for some stupid reason, that slip. At the same time, she’d noticed his hesitation at “a while.” Panic seized her again. He did mean to get rid of her.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. James,” said Grace, her voice shy.

  “You, too, Lady Grace.” She wanted to say, “Call me Eliza,” but refrained. She needed to do a better job of adhering to protocol, whether she wanted to or not. Her eyes drifted to Deveric. “How many sisters do you have?”

  She supposed that was likely a rude question, but what the hell. At this point, what did she have to lose?

  “Five. And one scamp of a brother, whom you’ve already met. Lady Cecilia is now at Cove Lawn with her husband, the Marquess of Amsfordshire.”

  “And their darling daughter,” added Emmeline.

  “Yes. Their daughter.” Pain creased Deveric’s face momentarily.

  Emmeline’s hands flew to her mouth. “I am sorry, Dev. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “I rejoice in their healthy daughter,” Deveric said, his face once again a stoic mask. “Please never think otherwise.” He stiffened his shoulders, his back unnaturally straight, his gaze not quite meeting anybody’s eye. “If you’ll excuse me, I have business to which I need to attend.” With that, he strode out of the room.

  Emmeline’s face crumbled. “I didn’t think, Grace.”

  Grace took her sister’s hand and rubbed it lightly. “You were not inappropriate, Emme. Our brother truly does take joy in little Mary.”

  Emmeline shot Eliza a glance. “Shall we continue?” she said, beckoning Eliza forward, clearly eager to drop the topic of their niece.

  Eliza would much rather have gone after Deveric but turned to follow Emmeline, leaving Grace to submerse herself in the book she pulled out from under her shawl.

  Just wait until she reads Pride and Prejudice. Eliza was ecstatic to meet a fellow Austenite and bookworm, even if Lady Grace was rather shy. Cat was an introvert, too. Eliza could deal with that.

  What woman wouldn’t fall in love with Darcy? At that thought, an image of Deveric in those breeches and boots, his face remote, his attitude arrogant, leapt into Eliza’s mind. What woman, indeed?

  Deveric paced his study, the study to which he’d retreated for the second time in twenty-four hours. Coward.

  Both times were on account of a woman; the first, in an effort to dampen his desire for Eliza James—an effort that had failed miserably, given his reaction to seeing her this morning. His whole body had lit up, an unusual feeling of happiness infusing him upon seeing her delicate face. The second, however, had been in a desperate attempt to stem his emotions, lest his sisters witness him lose his composure.

  Guilt consumed him over how little he’d seen Cecilia and his new niece, Mary. But in truth, he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to see those chubby little cheeks, those sparkling eyes, so full of life. Of course, he didn’t begrudge his sister her happiness. She deserved it, deserved that darling little girl.

  But for Deveric, Mary was a nearly unbearable reminder, a painful contrast of glowing health in comparison with his little Louisa. So pale, so lifeless. His daughter had never drawn a breath, never looked at him with those impossibly small eyes, never grasped his finger with her tiny one. He’d held her, held her for hours, tears streaming down his face. Until the doctor had come and told him Mirabelle was gone, too.

  He hadn’t been with his wife, as he ought. Relations had long been strained, to be true, but he should have attended her, not just their daughter. His mother had insisted it wasn’t his fault; that it would have been unseemly for him to be there as the doctor had attempted to stem the bleeding, to save her life.

  But Deveric knew. The guilt gnawed at his heart. He hadn’t given a thought to Mirabelle; the grief over his daughter had been all consuming. He would forever carry that burden, knowing that not only had he caused his wife’s death, but he hadn’t been there, hadn’t even thought of her while she lay dying.

  He took a swig from the nearly empty brandy bottle. It was early, but he didn’t care—plus, nothing worked better to cure a hangover than a bit of the poison that ailed him. Nothing worked better to ease pain than drowning it.

  At that thought, he set the bottle back down. He’d almost gone down that path, almost given himself over to the darkness of his despair. Until Cecilia had come to him, had reminded him his son needed him, his family needed him. She’d pulled him from the depths.

  And so, he’d thrown himself into managing the estate, into improving the lives of those dependent on him, into strengthening the land and increasing profits. If he couldn’t save his wife and daughter, by God, he’d make sure no one else in his care suffered.

  That was why he must steer clear of Mrs. Eliza James. He couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk her. Even if it were an option, she was not the kind of woman he could tumble, a woman he could bed and forget, like the occasional mistress. No, in his bones he knew she’d never be as simple as that. And so he had to stay away.

  After he got answers, of course.

  Chapter 10

  “It’s a bit chilly, but I find a walk in the gardens refreshes me and prepares me for the day ahead,” Emmeline said, as Eliza trailed behind her through the back hall. They’d finished the house tour and Eliza, frankly, was overwhelmed and exhausted by it all. This was not a house. It was a castle.

  How could she ever hope to fit in here, she of no financial means who’d only lived in rented apartments her whole adult life?

  And she wasn’t just aspiring to fit in, she wanted the role of duchess. The highest female title next to royalty? Whom was she kidding? Being a duchess was no light undertaking. A duchess had to manage the household, had to supervise servants. Had to know the ins and outs of the peerage—with whom one should associate, with whom one shouldn’t. A duchess had to raise children in the principles of the British ruling class. Eliza was sure there were probably numerous other activities a duchess was expected to undertake, duties to perform about which she knew nothing.

  Knowing all those things from her studies was quite different from facing them in reality.

  She wished she could lie down for a while and take a nap, but didn’t want to be rude to Emmeline, who’d been surprisingly friendly and accepting that morning. As had most of the family. Well, except maybe the Dowager Dragon. And Amara. And, well, Deveric. Perhaps not most, then. The thought depressed but didn’t surprise her. Nobody falls in love in a day, Eliza James, whether with a lover or with a friend.

  Except she and Cat had clicked instantly, all those years ago. What she woul
dn’t give to be sitting in the coffee shop with Cat right now, nursing a mocha and a piece of Crumb Cake. Her stomach growled at the thought. But only for a moment—because Cat is finding what she needs, I’m sure, and I’m here to do the same.

  “Do you have a pelisse?”

  Emmeline’s voice startled her back to the present. Or should she say past? “No.”

  “I shall have a maid fetch you one of mine. We are of similar size, I see.”

  Eliza smoothed her hands over her hips as Emmeline signaled to a maid. Similar size, my ass. She snickered inwardly at the bad pun. She and Emmeline might be of the same height, but she was sure she had at least twenty pounds on the girl. Maybe thirty.

  “I should like to hear more about this Virginia,” Emmeline said. “Is it as wild as they say? Were you ever attacked by Indians?”

  “Indians?” Eliza answered. She fought the urge to correct the word to Native American. At least Emmeline hadn’t said savages. “Uh, no. There are not many near where I live.” Not to mention we decimated them.

  “Truly?” Emmeline’s mouth tipped down in disappointment.

  The maid appeared with the requested pelisses, and Eliza was grateful for the interruption. As she pulled on the long, red, woolen garment, she heaved a sigh of relief that it was not as snug as she had feared. She couldn’t fasten the front buttons, but she didn’t mind.

  Emmeline looked her over, and then handed her a pair of kidskin gloves. “We shan’t stay out long. If you get cold, please inform me.”

  Get cold? She was already cold. How much worse could it be outside?

  “Oh, it’s lovely,” Eliza exclaimed, as they reached a garden threaded through with well-organized paths lined with numerous plants, most of which were foreign to her. Not that she’d paid much attention to the flora and fauna in Virginia, either. She was rather an inside girl, content with a book or a screen, and something to munch on.

  This area, however, made her understand why people would like to stroll here. Evergreens and other small trees—fruit trees, perhaps—dotted the landscape, and here and there charming stone benches provided spots for respite. She bet when flowers were in full bloom, the area was even more spectacular. A row of tall hedges lined the back, preventing her from seeing what lay beyond.

  “Shall I show you the maze? It is quite popular with our guests,” Emmeline said, her face glowing pink in the cold.

  Eliza pulled the pelisse closer around her midsection. She’d prefer to troop back to the house, perhaps warm up with a hot drink, but she didn’t want to disappoint Emmeline. Eliza needed all the allies she could get in this bizarre situation. “Um, sure.”

  The two women meandered toward the hedge. Upon approach, Eliza could see the small break marking the opening to the maze.

  “I love to walk here. It feels as if I’m in my own private world,” Emmeline said. “Not that I don’t love my family ...”

  “But sometimes one needs a bit of space to oneself.”

  Emmeline’s face flushed.

  “There is no shame in that; it makes sense to me. It must be weird to have people around constantly—especially servants.”

  Emmeline stopped walking for a second. “You didn’t have servants in America?”

  Eliza chuckled. “Definitely not.”

  “How did you dress on your own?”

  Eliza looked down at her gown. It would be difficult to don the undergarments she was wearing, much less secure the back of the dress she had on, without assistance. Cat had helped her the night of the ball, and a servant had been there to aid her this morning. Could one do it alone? How silly, to design clothing that necessitated aid to get in and out of. A hallmark of wealth, she supposed.

  “My ... sister.” Cat had certainly been the closest thing to a sister Eliza had ever had—it felt right calling her that. A wave of longing for her washed over Eliza again.

  “Oh, how tragic, to have lost a sister. I cannot imagine.” Emmeline’s eyes clouded, but she resumed her leisurely pace. “You must miss her.”

  Eliza nodded, hugging her pelisse close. “Yes. Very much.”

  “Emmeline!”

  Eliza and Emmeline turned around, searching for the source of the booming voice.

  “We are here, brother!” Emmeline called cheerfully, as Deveric’s head poked around the side of the hedge near which the women were standing.

  “My apologies, I did not realize you were still with our guest. Lady Penelope is looking for you.”

  “Oh, hurray. We are going to look at the latest Belle l’Assemblee. I need new gowns for the Season.” Emmeline wrinkled her nose. “Why did you not send a servant for me? I’m sure Lady Penelope did not mean to inconvenience you.”

  Deveric shifted from one leg to the other. “I was ... on my way to the stables anyway. Thus, it was not an inconvenience.”

  Emmeline turned to Eliza. “You are likely chilled; let’s return to the house. I hope you don’t mind that I wish to spend time with my friend.”

  “Not at all,” Eliza said. “I understand the value of friendship.”

  “Do not concern yourself with Mrs. James,” interjected Deveric. “I will be happy to escort her back to the house.”

  Emmeline’s brow rose. “I thought you were going to the stables?”

  “Indeed. But Mrs. James and I have some business matters relating to her father to discuss.” His eyes bore into Eliza’s.

  Emmeline headed toward the house, waving gaily to Eliza and her brother. “I shall see you soon,” she called as she picked up her pace.

  Deveric pulled Eliza back around the edge of the hedge so that they were enfolded within the greenery around them.

  “What are you doing?” She shook his arm off her elbow.

  “My apologies. But I want answers. Who are you? And don’t give me that nonsense about being from the future.”

  She chewed on her lower lip. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Shall I tell him I’m here because he is my soul mate and we are destined for a great love affair? It’s not like he would believe me. Maybe it wasn’t even true. Eyeing the angry duke in front of her, she regretted the lack of a sure happy ending to their tale. Although if the outcome were predetermined, it wouldn’t feel legit, right? That’s what Cat had decided for herself.

  Yes, but I’m not Cat. And I want the fantasy—the whole thing. I just want it to be real. Like Cinderella at the ball, but, well, true. Is that too much for a girl to ask?

  “I’m waiting, Mrs. James.” He tapped his boot on the gravel path.

  She ran her tongue over her lip to soothe the spot she’d bitten. Deveric emitted a noise. A growl? A groan? What was up with him?

  “You can believe what you wish, Your Grace,” she returned, irritated with his commanding tone. Did he expect her to fall at his feet in submission? The drill-sergeant approach never had worked well with her; it always roused rebellion. That had tickled her husband, who’d often said she wouldn’t last a day in boot camp. It was true.

  Deveric stared at her, his eyebrow rising. He was not used to people challenging him; that much was clear. Narrowing his eyes, he moved a few steps closer. “You insist you are from two hundred years in the future? That I was there with you last night? And that now you have followed me through time to the present? Or the past?”

  “Yup.” She refused to back up. Not that there was much space—she was almost against the hedge itself.

  “And you say that in order to travel through time, you had to activate whatever magic was involved by kissing me, correct?”

  She swallowed as he moved even closer. Hedge needles pricked her back. “Um, yeah.”

  “Then obviously there’s only one thing to do.” A wolfish grin broke out on his face.

  “Wh-what’s that?”

  “This,” he answered, and lowered his lips to hers.

  Eliza closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss. She hadn’t expected it, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to fully enjoy it. She opened her mout
h and slid her tongue along Deveric’s lips. He paused, as if surprised, but then widened his own lips and met her tongue with his, dueling with her as they each pressed harder into the other.

  This is a battle I don’t mind waging. She wound her hands up through Deveric’s hair, pulling him closer. He enthusiastically complied, reaching around and clasping her to him as if he feared she’d disappear at any second. For a moment, there was nothing but sensation, the delicious taste of each other among the scent of the evergreens, the feeling as if all were right, as they stood enfolded in each other.

  Suddenly, Deveric broke off, leaning back and staring at her. He didn’t remove his arms from around her waist, but his gaze was no longer hot; instead, he looked troubled. His eyes darted around as if ascertaining their surroundings.

  “We’re still here. If kissing you brought us here, it should have sent you back,” he said.

  Eliza gasped. “That’s ... that’s why you kissed me? Because you wanted to send me back?” She thrust her arms up, breaking the embrace. Deveric let her.

  “You told me you had to kiss me to travel here; it only seemed logical to try the reverse,” he mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, confusion furrowing his brow.

  Her cheeks burned with shame. “I had thought—” She broke off, studying the stone path at her feet. “I wish to return to the house.”

  “You thought what?” Deveric reached for her arm, grasping her hand and pulling her back toward him. “That I kissed you because I wanted to? Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about kissing you since I met you? That I’d like nothing more than to keep kissing you because your lips taste like nothing I’ve ever known before, a taste of which I can’t get enough?”

  Eliza stared up at him. Those eyes. Oh my God, those eyes. “Well, a girl can dream, right?” she stammered, attempting a weak smile.

  His pupils flared. He leaned toward her, his lips parting. Just as she was sure he was going to kiss her again, he backed up a step, exhaling loudly as he tugged at his overcoat.