Against the Magic

by Donna K. Weaver

  “Thank you.” Her ladyship sighed. “About my brother, I will not presume anything, but I must cling to my hopes. Two people who have learned to love each other can overcome many things. Come, we truly must make haste.”

  They had to respect each other too, but Reese kept that thought to herself. She didn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings more. Her love of her brother was strong, but what had he done to earn it? Was it Ellen’s loneliness that kept her from seeing his bad traits? He sure didn’t sound like Mr. Darcy.

  Ellen talked about all she had been busy with during the day, and Reese couldn’t help being impressed. Not only had the girl overseen what the housekeeper and the cook were planning, Ellen had checked on the condition of the rooms to make sure the airing and change of bedding met her high standards. Fires had to be lit in each to take out the chill.

  It wasn’t until Reese reached her room that she wondered why Ellen had given her such a rundown of her responsibilities. Because she wanted Reese to know what being the hostess of a great house entailed? That sly girl, doing her own educating. Reese’s respect for her went up even more.

  “I’m scared to death to meet these people,” Reese said when Ellen was about to leave.

  “You? Frightened of people?” Ellen wore a disbelieving smile. “You are the most fearless person I have ever met, male or female.”

  “Then you haven’t met many people.” Reese stepped forward. “What if they mock me? I can’t always keep my tongue between my teeth.”

  “Cannot ever keep your tongue between your teeth, you mean.” Ellen gave a soft laugh. “That is what I love about you. I have never met such an honest person. I can always trust that what you say is what you mean. You shall do fine.” She swept from the room, and her dresser entered.

  The woman said nothing but immediately went to work. Reese had learned not to fight the whole dressing thing, so the woman finished in short order. Another maid had entered the room while the dresser finished buttoning up the dress.

  “Sit.” The woman pointed to the vanity table chair.

  When Reese was in place, the dresser and maid each began to work on her hair. They must have done that kind of thing together before because they worked fast, and in the end Reese’s hair had a balanced appearance.

  She stared at her reflection, surprised at how much she looked the part of a gently-bred woman. As soon as she opened her mouth—or tromped into a room in her unladylike stride—everyone would know she was a fraud.

  But that was okay, wasn’t it? She couldn’t care less about these people or what they thought of her. They were all dead anyway, in her time. The thought that Ellen was too sent a wave of grief through Reese. It would be wonderful if Ellen could come to the future with them and have a chance to live up to her potential. She could go to college or pursue some other invigorating career. Maybe even politics since that kind of thing interested her.

  “You are ready, miss,” the dresser said.

  Reese swallowed and stood. She did her best to walk gracefully as she made her way down the stairs. Only for Ellen would she make such an effort. From the drawing room came the sound of voices, with that haughty tone she had become familiar with at the ball. Reese’s courage failed her, and she turned and went out the front door instead.

  She walked to the little gazebo at the back of the garden and watched the ducks swimming in the pond. A swan swam on the other side. One of the ducks climbed out of the water and waddled over the grass. Reese’s gaze went back to the swan. That was the two of them—Ellen the swan and her the duck out of water. The image made her chuckle and lightened her mood.

  Her thoughts drifted back to the village. Now that the Earl was home, would he interfere with her work there? He might be tight-fisted and refuse to fund the improvements. Ellen had been forceful and the staff had done her bidding. With her big brother here, that could change.

  He had shown himself to be a poor steward. Cluelessness was no excuse for the maintenance to have been so badly neglected. She doubted he had any understanding of how poverty tended to feed on itself, of how discouraging and demoralizing it could be. How being surrounded by other people who felt equally defeated made it difficult to work hard enough to get out of a bad situation.

  Reese found her anger at the Earl rising again, and she had to take a deep breath. Maybe he shared the attitude of the privileged of this time, that if people couldn’t care for themselves, they should be sent to the poorhouses like in Dickens’ works. She paused. When had he written A Christmas Carol? If he was writing in this time, Ellen might have a copy.

  “There you are,” her ladyship called from a distance.

  Reese got to her feet and turned. Ellen strolled on the arm of a very tall man. He resembled the painting, so it had to be her brother. The Earl wore his hair longer now and had some waves in it. It was still dark, though the hair at his temples had a few streaks of gray.

  Her heart pounded as his hooded eyes took her in, from her head to her feet. He put a stupid quizzing glass to one eye, pausing to give attention to her chest. The creep. Reese’s face went hot, and she had to clench her jaw to keep from saying something that might upset Ellen.

  Yet Reese would not put up with that from any man. She put on her best glare and folded her arms, taking a stance that mimicked his own. She scanned his tall frame, dressed in his fancy clothes, making sure to give a little sneer followed by a sniff to show she wasn’t pleased by what she saw.

  He dropped the quizzing glass, the color around his neck growing dark.

  Perfect. She had given as good as she’d gotten. See. Jem wasn’t the only one who could act.

  Ellen frowned, sensing the tension between them.

  “Gareth Hildebrand, eighth Earl of Kellworth,” she said, “I would like to introduce to you Miss Clarisse Hamilton from America. She is Aunt Nellie’s guest and my special friend.”

  The Earl, who had regained his composure after Reese’s dismissal, shot his sister a quick glance at her emphasis. His expression softened. The rancor faded, replaced by a twinkle in his eyes, as if he found his sister’s friend humorous.

  “How do you do, Miss Hamilton.” He bowed and held out his hand. When she hesitated, the corner of his mouth twitched.

  She thrust out her hand. Rather than giving him a chance to kiss it, she gave his a good, forceful shake and pulled it back. Both his brows rose that time.

  “Good day, sir.” When Ellen’s eyes widened, Reese quickly added, “My lord.” She made sure that use of the title sounded begrudged and not deferential in the least.

  “Americans.” He said it like it left a bad taste in his mouth and started walking around the gazebo, almost like a stalking panther, studying her the whole time. Poor Ellen watched them both, dismayed.

  Oh yeah? Reese crossed her arms again, pushing out one hip and wearing a bored expression. If he thought to intimidate her, make her think of herself as prey, then he was in for a surprise. She had faced off with enough drug dealers, bureaucrats, and other pompous fools that she was not about to back down.

  Someone called from a distance. The Earl stopped in front of Reese, holding her with his gaze as he called out, “Over here, Ned.” Gareth gave her a nod and smiled for the first time. “Truce, Miss Hamilton?” His voice was low and soft.

  She glanced at Ellen and gave in. “For your sister, yes.”

  “Then, ladies,” the Earl offered each of them an arm, “shall we return to the house? I believe Ellen went to great effort to prepare tea for us, and we are already late. We should join my guests before they have eaten everything.” Ellen took his arm.

  Reese clasped her hands behind her back and strolled beside him instead. She was perfectly capable of walking without some man to hang on to. As long as she didn’t trip on her stupid skirts. Please. He arched a brow but didn’t remark on it.

  Ellen and her brother chatted as they strolled back to the house. When they entered the room, she smiled and greeted the Earl’s guests amiably. The easy gr
ace with which they interacted showed that the girl knew them, which meant it wasn’t the rowdy crowd from last year. The tension in Reese’s shoulders relaxed a little.

  Her ladyship went through the introductions, but Reese knew she’d never remember their names and titles. The three women watched her curiously, wearing haughty attitudes and a sense of superiority befitting Mr. Bingley’s sisters. Reese had been careful not to walk with her usual “manly” stride and knew she at least looked the part of a lady of quality.

  The men, Ned and Reggie, also watched her, though they weren’t quite so obvious about it. None of them tried to pull the Earl’s stunt. Ned looked to be about thirty and dressed much fancier than the Earl did. Ned also seemed overly aware of his clothing. In modern times, Reese thought he would be considered a metrosexual male. Maybe the term in this time was a dandy, if they still had them in the Victorian era. Reggie acted like his sidekick.

  By the end of tea, Reese had decided she couldn’t stand to be around these people much longer. If the Earl killed the work on the village, she would return to Nellie’s, Jem or not. Had the invitation to him gone out yet, or did the Earl have to give his permission first?

  When the meal was finished, Ellen suggested her guests might like to rest. She and Reese hung back as they leisurely left the room.

  “I saw you were not comfortable with them,” Ellen said when the door had closed behind them. “I am sorry. It is better than last year. These friends are not wild.”

  Just snooty. “I figured that out by how you treated them,” Reese said. “I do feel a little bit like an intruder here. This is your brother’s house, and he has the right to be comfortable here without a snarky American making things awkward for him and his company.”

  “Please stay.” Ellen clasped her hands to her chest.

  “I really think it would be better for everyone if I leave,” Reese argued.

  The door creaked open behind them, and they turned to find the Earl there. Had he overheard them?

  “I thought I might find you still here.” He shut the door behind him and came to stand by them, placing himself as close to Reese as he did to Ellen.

  “Before we found you in the garden, Miss Hamilton,” he said, “my sister was telling me how diverting she found your company. It can be lonely for her when I am busy in London. I appreciate you keeping her entertained.”

  “Her ladyship is delightful. It has been my pleasure,” Reese said, “but I believe I have overstayed my welcome. It is time for me to return to Aunt Nellie’s.” She curtsied.

  “I wish you would not. My guests will continue their journey in a few days,” the Earl said, holding up his hand to stop her. “I hope you will stay.”

  Reese studied him, suspicious of his invitation. There had to be ulterior motives. Because he was that kind of guy. Wasn’t he? The Earl must have read from her expression that she still meant to leave.

  “Please, Miss Hamilton. It would mean a great deal to my sister. She spends too much time here alone, I know.” He sent Ellen an apologetic glance. “She looks forward to the end of the Season because it means that I will be home. Next year, when she has come of age, it will be different, and I must face losing her.”

  The real affection in his voice and in the look he gave his sister softened Reese’s attitude. For the first time, she understood Ellen’s high opinion of her brother, distorted as it might be. Love made it easy to excuse bad behavior. Reese had seen it too many times in abused children who craved the love of unworthy parents. She let out a breath of resignation.

  “I will stay,” she said, “for Ellen.”

  “Oh, yes!” She clapped her hands. “Thank you.”

  “Have you already sent Jem an invitation?” Reese didn’t like it, but she had learned a long time ago not to fight the inevitable.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention it.” Ellen’s cheeks flushed. “Mr. Taylor is Miss Hamilton’s cousin and also a guest of Aunt Nellie’s. He is interested in learning about Kellworth. I think you two would get on famously.”

  The Earl shot his sister a shrewd glance before his piercing gaze shifted to Reese’s in query. He was trusting her to tell him if Ellen was safe around Jem? How curious.

  “Lady Ellen need not fear that he would behave inappropriately with her.” Just Reese.

  “I will look forward to meeting your cousin then, Miss Hamilton. Ellen, I would prefer Mr. Taylor not join us until after my other guests have gone. Perhaps we should invite him for a dinner party.” The Earl bowed and strode from the room.

  “Oh, Clarisse, thank you.” Ellen gave her a quick hug.

  Chapter 16

  JEM STARED AT HIS CARDS. He had spent hours among Nellie’s staff working on his accent. Until he’d been around them more, he hadn’t paid attention to things like posture and body language. It shamed him when he realized he’d been giving more attention to Nellie’s “quality” guests. Reese was right. This culture could suck a person in.

  Geoffrey had interrupted Jem’s time in the kitchen several times to announce visitors asking for him and Cyrus. With his friend off visiting Bath with William, Jem hadn’t been able to make excuses not to come. It turned out that they were lady callers, eligible single women in the company of their mothers. They came under the pretense of visiting Nellie, but seemed awfully anxious to meet the two American men who had fortunes. Sitting in their company, making meaningless conversation, he once again understood Reese’s feelings.

  Had she met the Earl yet? Was she, at this very moment, being pursued by Ellen’s widowed brother? Since these noblemen didn’t necessarily marry for love, the guy might find an American heiress worth the effort to court.

  Or could the threat come from one of the guests the Earl was reported to be bringing with him from London?

  Jem couldn’t shake the image of Reese deciding to stay here. Not for the title and prestige, but because being married to someone with power and influence would let her help more people. And that tenant village was full of people who needed someone like Reese. Besides sneaking into the project as a servant, Jem had to find a way to get an invitation to Kellworth as an official guest.

  He threw in his cards and stood abruptly. Nellie’s evening guests looked at him in surprise.

  “You should perhaps retire, Taylor,” one man said. “Your mind has not been on the game anyway.”

  “Good advice.” Jem bowed. Tomorrow would be a busy day.

  He went to the pool room and entertained himself there until he heard the sound of Nellie’s guests retiring for the night. With the door open a crack, he watched for her to come toward the servant’s quarters as she did every night to discuss the next day’s needs.

  “Aunt Nellie.” He approached her.

  “I thought you had gone to bed.”

  “I need to talk with you.”

  Nellie didn’t quite roll her eyes but nodded toward her morning room. She sat in the chair at her desk and pushed aside a ledger she must have been working on earlier. Leaning back, she rested her elbows on the arms and steepled her fingers.

  “What can I help you with, young Jem?” she asked.

  “What is the protocol for a single man to visit an estate?” he asked.

  “For an untitled American to visit the home of a Peer to whom you have not been introduced?” she asked.

  Jem winced. “But what if that single man has been introduced to that Peer’s younger sister?”

  “I repeat. You have not been introduced to his lordship. I’m sure Geoffrey would have told you this already if you had asked him.” When Jem opened his mouth to argue, she spoke more firmly. “It does not matter anyway, young Jem. Lord Hildebrand is home now, and you must wait for him to make the first move before visiting.”

  “But what about Reese?”

  “Reese has a charity project that is doing quite well.” A number of emotions crossed Nellie’s face, but she finally smiled. “I believe she may have saved at least one child’s life.” She shot him a hard look.


  Jem wondered why she would look at him so intently—and then he knew. He had been so preoccupied with Reese that he hadn’t paid attention to Ellen. If she were crushing on him, of course she would have mentioned him to her brother.

  “I haven’t done anything to lead Ellen to think I like her like that. It’s Reese. It’s always been Reese.” Saying the words aloud, Jem felt a rush of emotions flood through his body, and he knew they were true. How had he ever thought differently?

  “I am glad to hear you have not been toying with Lady Ellen’s affections. I would have been even more disappointed to find that you would lead on one lady while claiming an emotional attachment to another,” she said. “You must find a way to let Lady Ellen down gently. She is not one to give her affection frivolously. I do not wish to see her hurt.” Nellie dropped her hands to open her desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. With a considering expression, she tapped it on her chin before holding it out to him.

  “What’s this?” Jem took it. The envelope had his name, Mr. Jamison Taylor, written in a beautiful script. He didn’t recognize the writing.

  “I believe it is an invitation to Kellworth,” Nellie said.

  Jem jumped to his feet. “I’ll leave right now.”

  “I think not. It is merely an invitation to dine, not to stay.”

  “Oh.” He sank back into the chair and noticed the seal on the back was still unbroken. “Hey, how do you know it’s an invitation?”

  “We fae have our ways.” The mischievous twinkle returned to her eyes.

  “How long have you had it?” Jem had to work to keep down his anger.

  “It came this afternoon.”

  Would she have shared it with him if he hadn’t approached her? “Why are you so determined to keep me out of Reese’s way?”

  Nellie let out a deep breath, all humor gone. “The magic knows.”

  “You’ve said that before, and all it does is make me crazy.” He hit the envelope on the wooden arm of his chair, and a corner of the hard-wax seal broke off. “You make it sound like this magic has predetermined her future. I don’t believe it, and I won’t sit by and let it happen.”