“Gwen,” a new voice said. Gwen didn’t need to turn to recognise it as Lady Mary, their mother. Her mother’s voice had been ingrained in her ever since she was born, since not an hour would go by without Lady Mary trying to turn her into a proper young lady. “I’m so glad you came.”
Gwen exchanged a last look with David and allowed her mother to haul her through the crowd and up towards the house. David had bought a mansion on the southern side of London for his wife, although Gwen had heard that he also had a flat in Pall Mall to conduct his business affairs while in London proper. Even for an aristocrat, London tended to be difficult to navigate early in the morning. It was a fine house, even though Gwen had heard that it had a bad reputation. The previous owner had lost most of his fortune in a disastrous investment in the South Seas and had had to sell it to recoup most of his losses, before winding up in debtor’s prison. It was a chilling reminder that failure could come to anyone, even an English aristocrat.
Lady Mary was wearing a frilly pink dress that made her – in Gwen’s private thoughts – look rather upsetting. As the mother of the birthday boy, she was second only to Laura, but she’d dressed to attract attention. Gwen had never had any time for the social circle that her mother effortlessly dominated, regarding it as rather silly, the worst display of foolish females in the country. It had often struck her that women would get more respect – and opportunities – from the men if so many women didn’t waste their lives on the social whirl. Lady Mary had a fine mind, when she chose to use it, but she preferred to use her position and knowledge as a weapon. Gwen had no intention of ever becoming like her.
“Gwen,” she said, as soon as they were inside. “I trust that you have managed to find yourself a husband?”
Gwen gaped at her, openly surprised. Her mother had to know that she hadn’t found anyone – and wasn’t even looking. Sure, she’d taken Bruno Lombardi to the ball, but that didn’t signify that they were going to get married. Besides, Lombardi had been lucky enough to meet a girl who might even make him happy. Gwen was hardly going to stand in his way, not when they hadn’t had anything, but friendship – insofar as a boy and girl could be friends.
“You’re alone in a house of male magicians,” Lady Mary said. “Do you not see your opportunity?”
For a moment, Gwen couldn’t understand a word that she’d said. Alone in a house of male magicians...what in the world did she mean? And then it struck her. Master Thomas, as far as Gwen knew, was unmarried – and probably the most eligible man in the city. Did her mother expect her to try to seduce a man old enough to be her grandfather? Or, perhaps, what about the younger magicians? Lord Blackburn wasn’t married. The nasty part of Gwen’s mind had wondered if anyone would want to put up with him, if they knew what he was like. Her mother couldn’t expect her to marry one of them, could she?
“Mother –”
“Gwen,” Lady Mary interrupted, talking over her daughter, “I have agreed to allow you to study and learn magic. I have even agreed to allow you to live at Cavendish Hall.”
Gwen scowled at her. It had been her father who had agreed to allow her to study magic – and he’d been under immense pressure from some of the most powerful men in the realm. The decision hadn’t been taken by Lady Mary – and, as a wife and mother, she would have had little say in it anyway, at least officially. A wise husband would learn to listen to his wife, if only to ensure peace and harmony at home. And her mother, whatever her faults, was very strong-willed. If only she had spent her time storming the bastions of male supremacy rather than carving out an empire of foolish females for herself.
“I have agreed to that against my better judgement, for society judges,” Lady Mary continued. “It is not decent for a young woman to live on her own among men. It is not right.”
“Mother,” Gwen said, as patiently as she could, “there are plenty of young girls my age who go to finishing schools in Switzerland where their brains are turned to mush. How exactly am I any different?”
She knew what her mother would say before she opened her mouth. “Those girls are chaperoned by their teachers – and they are not alone. You are alone in a household of men.”
“Men who know better than to try to lure me into their rooms,” Gwen snapped. Her mother always brought out the worst in her. “And there are female maids and servants and –”
Lady Mary snorted. “Servants cannot be relied upon to guard a young girl’s reputation,” she said, sharply. “You need to start looking for a husband. I have a list of suitable young men –”
Gwen felt her temper flare. “I am not interested in marrying anyone,” she said. Anger burned through her voice, threatening her stability. She felt magic flickering into life behind her eyes. It wanted out; it wanted to be discharged. Somehow, Gwen kept it under control. The last thing she wanted to do was lash out at her own mother.
“There is no one who would be interested in me –”
“You are a magician and of good birth,” Lady Mary said. That was absurd. Being a magician, even an untrained one, had ruined her prospects long before Master Thomas had invited her to train under him. “I have no doubt that you would find a partner...”
There was a cough from behind her. Lady Mary spun around to see a young girl, wearing a maid’s uniform. The maid, looking embarrassed to have stumbled into an argument between two of the guests, curtseyed. “Begging your pardon, madam, but the dinner is about to commence,” she said. “The master would be pleased to see you in the garden.”
“Thank you,” Gwen said, before her mother could launch into a furious tirade at the poor maid. She’d never beaten Gwen – or David, as far as Gwen knew, even though the rules for bringing up young men were different from those for young women – but Gwen knew that she had beaten a number of maids over the years. It was the same casual unconcern for the lower orders that Lord Blackburn and his fellow Darwinists shared. “We’ll be out in a moment.”
The maid bowed and vanished. “Come on, mother,” Gwen said. “The master of the house has called us to dine.”
Lady Mary scowled at her and then smoothed out her face as they walked back out into the garden. It was just past noon, with the sun hanging high overhead; Gwen could have almost convinced herself that they were in the midst of the country, rather than on the edge of London. Bees and birds flew through the air, searching for pollen and prey; in the distance, she could see the smog that hung over London. She didn’t care what the factory owners claimed. Something that smelled so bad couldn’t be harmless to the poor humans trapped underneath.
David – or, more likely, Laura – had laid out the tables carefully. Gwen, as David’s sister, had been allocated a seat on the high table, where she could see the other guests as they received their bowls of soup from the servants. David wouldn’t have experimented with exotic dishes from India or the Americas, somewhat to Gwen’s regret. The soup was a conventional chicken and vegetable: tasty enough, but not particularly exciting. Gwen supped it gratefully, her mind turning her mother’s words over and over again. Lady Mary had to be joking, surely. She couldn’t seriously expect Gwen to marry Master Thomas?
But then, Lady Mary hadn’t had much choice in her own martial arrangements. Her parents had pushed her into marrying Gwen’s father; Gwen’s father hadn’t been offered much choice either. It made perfect sense to have parents choose their children’s partners, if only because parents were more given to cold calculation than youngsters in the hot flush of youth. But Master Thomas...how could anyone expect Gwen to marry him? Gwen liked him and respected him, but he was old! And Lord Blackburn was a monster in human form.
The thoughts kept dancing through her head as the servants removed the bowls of soup and set out the next course. As Gwen had expected, it was ruthlessly conventional; roast beef, potatoes, boiled vegetables and gravy. A set of Yorkshire puddings – the sole gesture of unconventionality – was placed below her, inviting anyone to take one if they so wished. The servants carved the meat themselv
es, setting out dainty portions for each guest. As a child, Gwen had thought it hideously unfair that the servants didn’t get to share the meal; as she’d grown older, she’d realised that the servants probably ate up the scraps as well as having a little of the meal reserved for them in the kitchens. It was just never officially acknowledged.
David had gone to a boarding school, Gwen knew, and it had shaped his tastes. Laura would probably have wanted to experiment more, but not at a dinner party. Gwen smiled at her sister-in-law, realising just how happy she looked. Oddly, she felt a dull ache within her heart. She had known that she wouldn’t find such happiness even before Master Thomas had convinced her father to allow her to study magic. Was it a bad thing to wonder if Laura didn’t have the intelligence to be unhappy, or should Gwen regret having the intelligence to realise that there was more to life than parties and children? Gwen’s horizons had been wider long before she’d ever met Laura.
She chewed her meat slowly, noting which of the guests risked a glance at her before returning to their food. Some of the younger men – all unmarried, or their wives would have come with them – might well have been invited by Lady Mary, rather than David. Laura would have known better than to arrange casual encounters between Gwen and any young man, particularly without telling her in advance. Her mind kept returning to her mother’s words, desperately trying to parse out the meaning behind them. Had someone asked for her hand in marriage? And if so, who? Or had someone rejected her firmly enough to sting her mother? That would make a great deal more sense.
The meal was finally cleared away and small bowls of ice cream placed in front of each of the guests. Ice cream was expensive, Gwen recalled; her father had sternly limited the amount they could eat as children. David was making a statement to his guests, confirming that his business interests were as strong – and profitable – as ever. Gwen smiled in memory, nodding towards her elder brother. David had pleased her parents; maybe they could be convinced to let her chart her own path in life. She remembered her mother’s face and shook her head. Lady Mary wouldn’t be happy until both of her children were married off to good matches. And then she’d probably start matchmaking for her unborn grandchildren.
David tapped his knife against his glass and quiet fell over the garden. “I would like to thank you all for coming,” he said. His voice seemed to echo oddly in the silence. His expensive school had taught public speaking, training the children to mimic the words and styles of a Greek or Roman orator. Cicero’s speeches were still studied in public skills, as were the writings of Caesar and Pompey. “My wife and I are very pleased to see you all.”
There was a long pause. “It is my pleasure to announce that we had good news yesterday evening,” he said, after a moment. “My wife and I are expecting our first child.”
Gwen smiled as cheers rang through the air from the younger – and less well-behaved – men. The older people smiled and nodded. Beside Laura, Lady Mary was beaming. A grandchild was someone she could spoil – and perhaps use as a pawn in her endless games. Gwen made a resolution to spend time with her coming niece or nephew. She wasn’t going to allow her mother to mould the newborn child in her own image.
She glanced up, sharply, as she sensed magic. It was shimmering above her...no, it was coming down! Tables shattered under the impact; guests screamed and scattered as broken glass and splinters of wood fell everywhere. Gwen jumped back, using a little magic to direct her flight, and glanced upwards.
The rogue Master was standing on the roof, staring down at the chaos.
Chapter Twenty-Three
What are you...?”
David’s voice broke off as he saw the intruder. Master Jackson was standing on the roof, wearing a black cape and a top hat that mimicked the one worn by Master Thomas. Gwen knew, without a doubt, that there were no other magicians at the party. The servants and guards that David had hired wouldn’t be able to stop the rogue. He’d go through them like a knife through butter.
The guests were panicking, running in all directions. Gwen saw one young man, one of the ones who had been casting glances at her, fleeing towards the bushes at the end of the garden. Others were fleeing into the mansion, although Gwen knew that that wouldn’t provide any real safety. The rogue had wrecked a far stronger mansion in the centre of London. If he was to be stopped before he slaughtered the guests, Gwen was the only person who could do it.
“Call help,” David said, quickly. “Call Master Thomas.”
He was holding Laura, something that touched Gwen’s heart even as she returned her gaze to the rogue. Master Jackson was posturing, mocking her by standing on the roof, daring her to do something about him.
Gwen said nothing. She hadn’t learned to use mental communication yet. A Talker could have summoned help instantly, but Talkers tended to go insane unless they were trained very carefully. Gwen had been reluctant to risk learning to use that talent and Master Thomas hadn’t pressed. In hindsight, that had been a mistake. And she would bet half of her legacy that the rogue Master knew that she couldn’t call for help.
She gathered her magic and threw a fireball up towards the rogue. He leapt into the air, right over her head, and came down amidst the wreckage of the tables. The fireball missed completely. He lifted one hand and fired a burst of red-gold light towards David. Gwen raised her magic and deflected it barely in time. Cold anger – and fear – ran through her mind. She hadn’t faced anyone who shared her powers before – and she’d barely been trained to fight. Dodging or catching beanbags was no substitute for actual experience, and she had none.
“Get Laura inside and head out the other side of the building,” she said. David had to understand that he couldn’t help her. A man wasn’t supposed to desert a woman who needed help, but there was nothing David could do, apart from dying bravely. “Now!”
The rogue Master smiled and nodded, his mocking gaze never leaving Gwen’s face. It struck her that David and his guests weren’t the real target; Gwen herself was the target. If he killed her, Master Thomas would have to start looking for another Master. He’d never be able to retire. The rogue’s smile grew darker, as if he were reading her thoughts. Gwen had no experience in shielding her mind, but she pulled her magic around her anyway, hoping that it would provide a barrier.
There was a moment’s warning – and another blast of energy came blazing towards her. It was strong, strong enough to knock Gwen backwards even though it impacted on her defences rather than directly on her body. A wave of heat struck her as the magic dissipated harmlessly. It seemed hot enough to burn her skin. The rogue was far more experienced than her, yet he seemed almost to be pulling his punches. He was mocking her! Rage flashed through her and she lifted her hand, throwing a burst of magic back at him. It broke up just before it could touch him and started a number of small fires amidst the wreckage. The rogue Master danced back, his smile daring her to follow him. David, Gwen noted with relief, had made himself scarce. The other guests had scattered.
Master Jackson launched himself into the air. Gwen remembered what Master Thomas had taught her and reached out with her magic, seeking to disrupt the power that held her enemy aloft. It seemed to work, just for a moment, before the magic recoiled on her. He’d disrupted her grip while flying! Gwen launched herself into the air after him, throwing a series of fireballs towards his position. He ducked and dodged, hopefully too busy guarding himself to try to knock Gwen out of the sky. She sensed a brief flicker of magic and dropped, just before something tried to shimmer into existence around her. It closed harmlessly above her head as her feet touched the ground. Despite herself, she felt excited. She could win this!
She looked up and around, but there was no sign of Jackson. He’d vanished. Gwen wondered if he’d found her a harder target than he’d expected, but he’d duelled with Master Thomas – and Gwen knew that she wasn’t anything like as capable as her tutor. Master Jackson would never have a better chance to remove her from the field and he had to know it. Closing her
eyes, she tried to sense...and ducked, just before a blow slashed through the air. It would have decapitated her if she’d allowed it to hit. Now she knew roughly where he was, she could see the glimmer of magic that was concealing his position. It wasn’t perfect invisibility, but it would have made him impossible to see at night. Even in bright daylight it was still hard to see him.
There was a wavering shimmer in the air and he materialised, only three yards from her. Gwen had expected him to be carrying a cane, just like Master Thomas, but his hands were empty. He was taller than she had expected, with dark hair and a rough, handsome face – and very bright eyes. Despite herself, she felt a flush of attraction – and damned herself for it a moment later. Master Jackson had turned on his tutor and killed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people. He was a traitor to his country and to his family.
He nodded to her, a gesture of respect that oddly warmed her heart. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then he hurled himself back into the air. The next mansion, a smaller building clad in pink stone and surrounded by statues of weeping angels, was easily within reach for a Master. He landed on the roof and gazed at her, daring her to follow him. Gwen reached down and tore her skirt free, before jumping into the air herself. It had never occurred to her to try jumping from rooftop to rooftop, but perhaps a practiced magician would have other ideas. She landed neatly on the roof, her eyes searching out and finding Master Jackson. He lifted a hand and a blow struck her in the stomach. She found herself tottering backwards, on the verge of stumbling over the edge and falling down to the stone below. Desperately, she caught at the air around her and threw herself upwards. Master Jackson jumped back as she formed fireballs and threw them at him, hoping to distract him while she came down and reached out with her magic. She pulled a chimney away from the roof and launched it at his back. He evaded it barely in time.
Gwen cursed her own mistake as she prowled forward. He’d developed his own combat senses, just like her...and he was far more practiced. There was no need for him to look to know what was behind him. He could probably read her mind and know what she was planning ahead of time. Maybe he intended to Charm her into submission, or...there were simply too many possibilities for someone who controlled all of the talents. She kept inching forward and sensed the trap, a moment too late.
The Royal Sorceress Page 21
