Thinking of the Povests made her think of Owen and she felt a stab of loneliness. She missed her parents and brothers desperately as well, but it was easier to push thoughts of them away. Her brothers were better off not knowing about her lifestyle. If they happened to have any latent powers of their own, they wouldn’t know what to do with them and things would end up exploding, she was sure. The hypocrisy of not wanting her brothers to know anything didn’t escape her. But she still refused to believe her parents had done the right thing. If only they had been open and honest, she could invite them for a visit, send Gloria back to escort them. But they hadn’t and she couldn’t.
Or could she? Thinking about her mum and father actually hurt a lot less than missing Owen so she concentrated on this new nugget of an idea. Why exactly couldn’t she invite her parents here? Show them how well she was doing. How absolutely not in danger she was. She liked the idea of it until she thought of Nick.
Her parents had known him back before she was born, since he was the brother of her father’s best friend. The fact that she’d never met Nick in all her years of visiting Jeremy Kerr as a child meant he must have been considered a black sheep in that family. She’d gone back to a time before she was born and Nick had been part of her parents’ social circle, so they most likely knew about the debt he’d been mired in then. Ariana didn’t think they’d understand it wasn’t his fault and that he’d been deceived by a friend. And they wouldn’t love the fact he was so much older than her. No, a visit was out.
One of the new recruits popped his head in the door, pulling her from her thoughts. “Lady Ariana, er, your Majesty?”
He was gangly and had a mop of tangled red hair, wild freckles all over his face and disappearing into the loosened collar of his shirt. He was probably only a few years older than her and from what she’d seen was a very nice young man. They might have been friends if everyone didn’t revere her so. Calling her a queen had been a jest started by Gloria and Milo, but now everyone took it so seriously. They all walked on eggshells around her as if she’d throw them out at the slightest offense. Had she ever given them a reason to think that way? It made her remember every petty thing about herself that she longed to forget.
“Ariana by itself is fine, Caleb,” she said. It came out magnanimous instead of casually friendly and she winced.
“It’s Alan,” he corrected with a slight bow.
She winced again. “I’m so sorry. I won’t forget again. We both start with an A, you’d think I wouldn’t have forgotten at all.”
“It’s not a problem, Lady … Ariana.”
Her smile felt stiff but she tried again to break the barrier between them. “Shall I ring for some tea?” she asked, waving toward a chair.
“No thank you. I only had some news for you.” Alan moved in front of the chair but didn’t sit. He continued to look everywhere but at her so she finally snapped.
“Well, what is it?”
“Er, as you might know— well, actually, you might not. At any rate, I’ve been assigned to the scrying you wanted done. For your, er, cousin?”
She jumped out of the armchair and hurried to Alan, scaring him half to death. She bit down on her hurt feelings and irritation, excited to hear what he had to say. No one had been able to conjure an image in weeks.
“Owen? Is he all right?”
Alan nodded and swallowed, pulling out a piece of paper. “He arrived at the Povest stronghold. We can’t see inside the walls, it’s much too heavily guarded.” He sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. “What I wouldn’t give to learn some of their secrets.”
“So that’s all you know? He arrived? I suppose that’s something. At least he’ll be safe there with his family.”
Turning the paper over, Alan cleared his throat. He was the biggest ball of nervous ticks she’d ever seen. “Yes. He arrived at the village and as I said, we lost all sight of him. But we moved up a bit in time. Actually, that was Gloria who did that. I don’t have that kind of ability yet.”
“What do you mean you moved up in time?” she asked. It was true that Gloria was incredibly gifted with anything that had to do with time.
“She moved it forward very fast. Not that she was actually moving it forward, but as it has already happened in relation to the year we’re in, she was able to—”
“Yes, I get it,” she interrupted his long explanation. “Like flipping through the pages of a book without reading them.”
He beamed at her. “Ah, that’s a perfect example. I shall have to tell Roddy, because he couldn’t understand at all.” He stopped abruptly at her look and she carefully rearranged her face so he would stop twitching. “Yes, your cousin. Of course. Well, after three days, he left.”
“Left the village?”
“Yes.”
“Is that all? Go speed forward some more. Perhaps he went on an errand? Why would he leave after only three days?”
Alan shrugged. “I’m sorry, my lady, but we can’t get a read on him again. It’s as if he just disappeared.”
She didn’t think screaming in frustration would advance the friendly image she wanted Alan to see. Nor would throwing something. She stiffly walked to the door and held out her hand.
“Thank you for the information,” she said even more stiffly.
Alan scurried out. “Don’t worry. We’re still going to keep watching for him.”
She nodded and as soon as he was out the door, she slowly and quietly eased it closed. “Those bastards,” she hissed, pacing from one end of the large room to the other.
Had they kicked him out after only a few days? What kind of family was that? Had Owen been wrong about his cousin Sorin’s open invitation? No, Owen wasn’t wrong. Those horrid people must have found some fault with him. But how? He was sweet and malleable and agreeable in every way. It wasn’t possible he’d offended them somehow. And he was brilliant. Incredibly talented.
She stopped her pacing and shivered, recalling how powerful Owen was. To the point of having no control over it. That was the reason he’d gone to the Povests in the first place, to learn how to harness it so it wouldn’t trample all over everyone. And they’d turned him away. If he’d been too much for his powerful family to handle, she couldn’t bear how alone he must feel, wandering around Europe on his own. Struggling not to do magic. Was he getting enough food?
She wanted to run from the house and saddle up a horse to find him, then laughed at her folly. She was years, not just miles away from him. And if her team of expert scryers couldn’t find him, how could she?
The door opened again and she swore, turning red when she saw it was Nick. She forced the irritation from her face, but apparently not successfully.
“Goodness, shall I go out and come back in again?” he asked in the teasing tone she normally loved. “Or not come back at all?” His laughing face turned serious when he saw there were tears on her cheeks. She hadn’t noticed them herself until he wiped them away with his fingertips. “Ariana, what is it?”
She couldn’t explain it to him without making him jealous. Which was ridiculous. She loved him. Of course she did. But it was different from the way she loved Owen and he would never understand it. She hated when he got sullen every time she mentioned Owen’s name. Or any of her family, for that matter. She remembered her inklings of a plan to invite her parents and felt the tears flowing again. She was so very lonely.
Instead of telling him anything about any of it, she let herself be gathered into his strong arms. Normally that made her feel better but her worry for Owen was too great to be soothed away with a mere hug. Of course she couldn’t let him know that or she’d have to contend with his sulking. She was just not in the mood.
“You must have some magic to you,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound false. “You always make me feel so much better, no matter how foul my day is going.”
He grumbled deep in his chest and she was sorry for bringing up his lack of magical ability. It seemed she couldn’t do anyt
hing right around anyone today.
She had always thought magic was something anyone could learn at least a little bit of, but she was wrong. Nick was completely useless in that arena. However, it didn’t bother her unless he got in a snit about it. She could never make him understand that she didn’t need him for that. Or for money. But if she tried to explain that to him, he went all pouty, same as when she talked about Owen. Nick was awfully high maintenance sometimes.
“Take me into London tonight,” she said, hoping to get them to common ground. Good food and good wine in a posh eatery was sure to make him happy. “We can spend the night.”
She wagged her brows suggestively at him and then instantly regretted that as well. It seemed she couldn’t get her footing back since the news about Owen. To keep Nick from getting his hopes up too high, she pulled away from him, trying to look more prim and proper. While she enjoyed their fevered kisses and his deliciously roaming hands, she’d never spent the night with him. He’d been fine with it so far, but as time went on she knew he’d grow more impatient. She could demand he marry her but she wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted. And honestly, she wasn’t sure he would propose. So she kept him at arm’s length, literally, as he smiled down at her.
“Darling, that’s a marvelous suggestion, but have you forgotten I’m leaving for Italy and the year 1814 today? I’ve come to say farewell.” He took her hands, fondling the huge ring on her finger. “It looks so lovely on your fair hands. Think of me every moment I’m gone, won’t you?”
She had completely forgotten he was going back to check on an investment he’d made. She’d told him a hundred times he didn’t have to worry about it, but his manly pride made him insist on having money of his own. Normally she would have wanted to go with him and she pondered asking if he’d like company. He did look a little hopeful she would.
“Darling?” he prodded. “You look as if you won’t miss me at all. As if you’re plotting a grand party the second I leave.” He chuckled nervously and she shook her head.
“Don’t be silly,” she said with a stilted laugh. “Of course I’ll miss you. I still don’t know why you insist on going at all.”
He kissed her nose, then her lips. “Ah, my dear.” He looked at her wistfully and kissed her again. She leaned in, standing on her toes until he pulled away. “It’s so you can better love me.”
She didn’t understand him at all, but with her fears simmering for Owen, she barely noticed when he left. She decided to pour herself a glass of wine after all. Just a little something to sip on. Half a bottle later, she came back to the idea of somehow getting her parents to see what a marvelous life she’d made for herself.
A tear splashed into her empty wine glass and she shakily reached to refill it, noticing with dismay how much she’d already had. How horrified her mother would be if she knew just how often Ariana finished off a bottle of wine by herself. She couldn’t remember the last thing she’d said to her mum and the tears flowed harder. She missed them all so much, down to Cook and her father’s valet, Duncan. They all doted on her, and it was out of real affection, not the way everyone tiptoed around her here. No one here would tease her the way her bratty little brothers did or confide in her the way her best friend Maria would. Or used to.
She doubled over with a sob, thinking about how neatly she’d ruined Maria’s chance at happiness. So what if Owen had lied? If she was a true friend she would have found a way to help them. Made Mr. Winters see that Owen was worth his weight in gold even if he didn’t actually have two farthings to rub together. Instead she destroyed everything with her wicked tongue and the worst part of it was that she’d meant to do it. She still couldn’t figure out why, but it had been malice, plain and simple.
“Oh Mum, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
She cried into her skirts, wanting more than anything to feel her mother’s arms around her. Hear her father’s stern voice as he awkwardly patted her and told her everything would be fine. She knew she should dry her tears and join the others, or at least seek out Gloria and confess her misgivings. But she had so many misgivings to confess and how could she tell Gloria how badly she wanted to go home? They depended on her here.
No. She’d chosen this life. There had been a reason. A good one, she knew, though it was hard to muster up her old righteous anger when she was so lonely. She didn’t want any of her new friends. She wanted her family, but they were lost to her now. Beneath her desolation, she still had a shred of pride. As much as she knew her parents would welcome her back with open arms, that would only be the first day home. After that would come the censure, the disappointed looks, the punishments.
She gasped as a realization hit her. Not all of her family was truly lost to her. It was only that she’d have to find them. She dried her tears and raced for the stable.
“Saddle me a horse,” she demanded.
The boy looked at the lowering sun and then glanced nervously at the horses, all snug in their stalls for the night. “It’s a bit late, Your Majesty, but I suppose—”
“I suppose you’ll do as I say,” she snapped, glad for once they all danced around her every whim. “Saddle up Gilly. I’m going to London and want to get there as fast as possible.”
He made an obvious gulping sound. “London? You mean to ride all the way to London at this hour? It will be pitch black when you arrive. It’s not safe. If you’re determined to go, let me get Jacob and we’ll ready the carriage.”
Ariana stamped her foot. “It’s perfectly safe. Have you seen my hex to make a man fall into a heap and convulse until he pisses himself?” She had no such hex and was a little ashamed to make up something so terrible it made the stable boy’s eyes bug out, but she could use her feet and her fists as well or better than any man, thanks to her mother’s self-defence training. “Saddle up Gilly or get out of my way so I can.”
He bobbed his head and scrambled for the tack. She heard him muttering apologies to the horse and her conscience twinged. She almost gave up the idea. Surely it could wait until morning? But she knew she’d never sleep. She’d only drain another bottle dry and become morose again. She had to go now. She had to get into the loving arms of family once again.
***
Nick looked with distaste at the overly fussy top hat perched atop Milo’s shiny, bald head. It looked foolish with the staid, gray suit he wore. But now that he was escorting him back to 1814 where a man could bedeck himself in velvet and lace and not raise an eyebrow, Nick could tell that Milo could barely wait to change his clothes once they arrived. Milo seemed to read his thoughts and patted the richly embroidered traveling bag that was wedged between them on the carriage seat. It couldn’t have gone on the floor or with Nick’s own baggage up top. Oh, no. The man certainly loved his finery. And except for puttering around the mansion pretending to fix a floor board or a lamp here and there, Milo didn’t do a thing to earn any of it.
You’re one to judge, he thought bitterly.
What had he done recently but hung on Ariana’s arm when she went to charity balls in her honor, or jumped at her every beck and call? It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy every minute he spent with her. Well, almost every minute.
She’d been more and more moody every passing day that she didn’t hear from her damnable “cousin.” He wondered with a sickening, burning jealousy if they’d ever been lovers. He shook his head to rid himself of that thought. Of course they hadn’t been. They were practically children. And if they had, she would certainly be less stingy with him if she weren’t still a maiden. He shuddered at his low thoughts and put his head in his hands. What had he gotten himself into with Ariana Alexander? He almost thought running from creditors in his own time might be easier than the confusing muddle he seemed inextricably caught up in.
But was he really caught? He was going back to his own time to check on the loathsome investment Ashford’s wife had set up for him to try and keep him from Ariana in the first place. If it panned out, he’d have money again
and could disappear. Live in Italy with a more worldly woman closer to his own age and tastes. But there was something about Ariana that kept him slavering like a lovesick pup.
It was only his emasculating lack of funds that had him in such a state. Once that investment paid out, he’d feel more himself, more in control of things. What did it matter where the funds originated from? Tilly Jacobs, no, Lady Ashford now, might have set it up but she ultimately lost. If it gave him a sour taste in his mouth, he’d rinse it out with fine wine from the loads of cash he was certain to make. And make a toast to her with her daughter.
“What’s got you scowling so?” Milo asked.
Nick pulled himself from his thoughts and came up with a mild enough answer. It was something that had come up a few times in the last few days, as Milo found more witches who had supposedly been part of things the first time around.
“A few of those new chaps you dredged up from God knows where and when keep calling me Sir Amos,” he said irritably. “What’s that all about?”
He didn’t think they were the sort that were good for the image of their … he hated how Ariana so blithely called it a coven. That made him conjure images of dirty, naked witches chanting and hissing around a bubbling cauldron, not the sophisticated society he’d prefer to be part of. But Ariana was so tenderhearted towards the downtrodden. The dirtier and more ragged they were, the more she welcomed them.
“Is that so?” Milo answered. He stared straight ahead for some time before continuing. “Perhaps they remember things differently.”
Nick slapped his palm against his thigh, his irritation turning to outright anger. “What do you mean, remember things differently? If everything went as you say it went, then there should be only one way to recall things. The correct way. Perhaps your memory spells aren’t working properly lately.”
Milo puffed himself up, deeply affronted that the gift he was so proud of was being called out. Nick was perversely pleased to have riled him. Let someone share his foul mood.
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