A Lady and Her Magic

by Tammy Falkner

  Ashley wiped his mouth and looked at Anne. The little girl’s face fell quickly and harshly. “Something wrong?” he asked of her.

  “I don’t want a governess,” she said with a pout.

  “If that lip pokes out any farther, someone will step on it,” Ashley said as he stood. He addressed Wilkins. “I thought the agency refused to send any more of their referrals.”

  “That’s correct. But this one was brave, evidently.” He eyed Anne askance. “I interviewed her and found her qualified.”

  “By all means, show her in,” Ashley said as he sat back and waited.

  “She’s installing her things in her chambers,” Wilkins explained. “But I’ll bring her about and introduce her as soon as she’s ready.”

  Ashley dismissed Wilkins with a nod. Then he faced his daughter. “Absolutely no frogs in this one’s bed,” he warned. “Or insects.”

  “I know,” Anne sighed.

  “You’ll be on your best behavior,” he continued. “And under no circumstances are you to set anyone’s hair on fire.”

  Anne got a little gleam in her eye at the last, almost as though she was proud of doing it.

  “Don’t even think about it.” He shook a finger in her direction. But with the look on her face, he had to bite back a grin. He reached over and ruffled her hair. She jerked back from him and straightened her locks with stiff, unhappy movements. Perhaps she was getting too old for him to tousle. Another lady he’d love to tousle came to the forefront of his thoughts. A little dark-haired lady with flashing eyes who smelled like bluebells. He would like very much to muss up her hair.

  He called to a footman. The man stepped to attention. “Fetch Wilkins for me?” Ashley asked hesitantly. He wasn’t at all certain he was making a good decision. But he needed to see her. She was becoming as integral to him as breathing.

  Wilkins entered the room a moment later. “Would you find Miss Thorne for me? I’d like to invite her to ride with me this morning.”

  But a man stepped around Wilkins and directly into his line of sight. “Perhaps you should ask me instead, Your Grace.” He bowed slightly. His bow and salutation warred with the annoyed look on his face.

  “I don’t know you, much less do I want to ride with you,” Ashley said, immediately realizing how acerbic his tone was, but he didn’t like the way the man looked at him.

  “Your Grace,” Wilkins began. “This is—”

  “I don’t particularly want to ride with you either, but as my sister’s guardian and the head of our family, you should at least ask for my permission before you take her off alone.” The man lifted his nose in the air. “Did you plan to make an offer for her?”

  “An offer? Of marriage?” Ashley asked. Wilkins sputtered even more than Ashley did. Poor man. But in the back of Ashley’s mind, that didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

  “Of marriage, yes.” He glanced around the room, taking in the startled butler and the still-pouting Anne. “Could you clear the room, Your Grace?” he asked.

  “Of all the nerve,” Wilkins breathed.

  “No need,” Ashley said quickly and crisply. “Deliver Anne to the new governess,” he said to Wilkins as he strode through the door. He motioned to the stranger. “Follow me, sir. I think my study is a much better place to discuss any slight I may have given you.”

  “Decidedly so,” the man said as he followed Ashley down the hallway. The man was so close on his heels that Ashley didn’t even have time to formulate a plan. He breezed into his study and stalked behind his desk. He sat down and began to shuffle through a stack of correspondence while he collected his thoughts.

  The man coughed loudly.

  “Oh, do sit,” Ashley groused with a breezy wave of his hand.

  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  “You know who I am, but I have not had the pleasure,” Ashley said.

  “Everyone knows who you are, Robinsworth.”

  “Quite so,” Ashley agreed. He sat back heavily in his chair. “And you are?”

  “Marcus Thorne, Your Grace.” At what must have been Ashley’s blank look, the man continued. “Sophia’s brother.”

  Ashley narrowed his gaze. “When did you arrive?”

  “Late last night. I had some matters to catch up on at home before I could join the festivities.”

  “Late last night…” Ashley repeated.

  “Very late.” He speared Ashley with a glance. “Late enough to catch my sister returning to her chambers in nothing more than a nightrail and your dressing gown.”

  If his teeth pressed more tightly together, Ashley feared he would break his jaw. “I see,” he said.

  The man jumped to his feet. “Do you see? Do you really?”

  “I believe I do.” Ashley sighed heavily. “What would satisfy you in this situation?” The only thing that would satisfy Ashley would be to marry her. But he didn’t want to seem too eager.

  “Did you defile her?” Mr. Thorne asked from between gritted teeth.

  “You’ll have to define the word ‘defile,’ I’m afraid.” Ashley leaned his elbows on the desk to regard the man closely.

  “Did you take liberties with my sister?”

  “Again, it’s all about perspective,” Ashley equivocated. Ask me the right question. Will I marry her? Yes!

  The man put his palms of his hands on Ashley’s desk and regarded him closely. “What are your feelings for my sister?”

  “Now we get to the meat of the matter. You have finally asked the right question.” Ashley tried his best to set his pride aside. And his past. And concentrate only on his future. “I’m quite fond of Sophia,” he said hesitantly. He hated the way his head tied his tongue in knots.

  “Why was she in your chambers in her nightrail?”

  Ashley thought about that for a moment. “I’m not completely certain. One moment, I was playing the piano, and the next, there she was.”

  “Oh, dear God,” the man groaned, lowering his head into his hands. “Music,” he spat. “I should have known.” He raised his head, remorse in his gaze. “Shall I assume that you sent her back to her own chambers with haste?”

  “You could assume that.” Mr. Thorne relaxed with a heavy sigh. “But you would be wrong.”

  Sophia’s brother’s head shot up. “Beg your pardon.”

  “I kept her there in my chambers for as long as I could.”

  Mr. Thorne turned a little green around the mouth. “What happened?”

  “Nothing untoward,” Ashley admitted. A few harmless kisses. A few harmless kisses that had rocked his very being. “What matters is that I’m prepared to make it right.” He looked directly into his eyes. “I’d like to offer for your sister. I can make a rather generous settlement upon you, if you have need of it.”

  “I think it’s me who’s supposed to offer the dowry,” Mr. Thorne said, his mouth opening and closing, as though he had words to say but couldn’t formulate them.

  “I’ve never stood by society’s restrictions,” Ashley admitted. “I’m willing to pay handsomely for her.”

  “I’ll not sell my sister.” Mr. Thorne heaved a disgusted sigh. Ashley had to give him credit. Many men of undetermined origins would have jumped on the opportunity to get their hands on a wealthy duke’s fortune. Even a small portion of it. “Is she still innocent?” Mr. Thorne looked pained by the question.

  “She is,” Ashley said as he inclined his head.

  “I’ll be able to tell,” the man muttered.

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” Ashley returned.

  “Not where we’re from,” Mr. Thorne returned quietly.

  “And where is that, exactly?” Ashley asked.

  “I’m certain you’ve never heard of it.”

  That was the same answer Sophia always ha
d. Blast and damn. Would no one tell him details of their heritage? From where they heralded? This one was as tight-lipped as Sophia. “I’ve only known her for a few days,” Ashley admitted. “But she’s like a breath of fresh air.”

  “That’s what she’s supposed to be,” Mr. Thorne said. He sighed heavily. “As long as she’s still innocent, my dealings with you are done.” He bowed in Ashley’s direction. “We’ll be taking our leave today. All of us.”

  Leaving? “Wait!” Ashley called to his retreating back.

  The man stopped and turned toward him. He arched an inquisitive brow and waited. “She could be carrying my child,” Ashley said without even thinking about it first.

  Mr. Thorne looked like he needed someone to catch him when he fell. Ashley shot up from his chair and crossed the room. He stopped in front of the man, fully intending to catch him when he collapsed. However, he got a rousing surprise instead when Mr. Throne’s right fist cuffed his left jaw.

  Ashley took the blow, which was strong enough to knock him slightly off center. What he wasn’t expecting was the second punch that hit him directly in the nose. He stumbled, cursed profusely, and then righted himself. He took a deep breath and asked, “Feel better?” as he wiggled his nose to be sure it was still attached. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the blood he’d provoked with his own carelessness. If anyone said the same about Anne, he’d be provoked to kill him. If all Ashley got was a bloody nose, he was fortunate.

  “Feel better?” Mr. Thorne snorted. “Hardly.” He looked devastated. And Ashley’s conscience pricked at him a little.

  “Do you want to hit me again?” Ashley dabbed at his nose. Damn, but that hurt. It had been a long time since he’d been in a brawl. Well, one couldn’t really call taking two punches a brawl. But it still hurt like the devil.

  “I want to kill you,” Mr. Thorne said as he dropped heavily into a chair. He looked deflated, like a balloon that had lost its air. “This mission wasn’t meant for her,” he muttered.

  Mission? Sophia had mentioned a mission more than once. “Pray tell me about this mission.”

  Mr. Thorne avoided his question entirely. “She could be with child. This does not bode well.” He labored to his feet and tugged at his jacket. “I assume there’s only one thing I can do.”

  “And that would be?” Let her marry me. Force her to marry me. I’ll make her happy with time.

  “She’ll have to give up her life as she knows it. And marry you. And face the consequences. There will be consequences, whether her child is born like one of us or you.”

  Born a murderer. “I don’t believe homicidal tendencies are bred into a person,” Ashley informed him.

  A startled gasp arose from the doorway. “What did you say?” Sophia asked as she barged into the room. She reminded him of a storm cloud heavy with thunder and lightning. Ready to erupt. Her hazel eyes flashed, and her dark brows drew together, her expression stern.

  Ashley avoided her gaze. But her brother spoke up. “You should have told me,” he said, sounding like an old man, suddenly. A wounded old man. Something inside Ashley twisted. But he schooled his features.

  Just then, Sophia noticed Ashley’s nose and the bloody handkerchief. She was across the room in a trice. “What happened to you?” she asked as she took the handkerchief and wiped at his nose. Her touch was gentle, but, by God, it hurt. He winced and backed his head up an inch.

  “Careful,” he murmured. He took her hand in his and held it, looking into her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. How else could he convey what he was feeling? He couldn’t even put word to his thoughts. Much less explain them. “I’m sorry” was a poor substitute.

  “Did you hit him?” Sophia asked her brother. She punched her brother in the shoulder, which made him wince loudly. It made Ashley want to chuckle as the man massaged his arm.

  “Damn it, Soph, don’t do that,” he groused. “He had it coming.”

  “What on earth could he do that would make you want to hit him?” she asked, her voice rising.

  “He informed me that you could be with child,” Mr. Thorne hissed at her. His glance kept moving quickly over to Ashley. But Ashley stayed silent and watched Sophia.

  She pressed a hand to her stomach. “With child?” she croaked.

  She looked stricken. And Ashley reached for her. She doubled over. This time, he grabbed for her. Dear God, he’d caused her pain. He would undo it.

  Sixteen

  Sophia could barely catch her breath. She doubled over in the middle and clutched her stomach. She’d rushed into the room when she’d heard Ashley’s muffled curses, never expecting to find him standing there with blood dripping on his cravat and Marcus shaking out his fingers to relieve the pain he’d caused himself. She stayed bent over and took a few deep breaths. With child? A laugh escaped her mouth.

  “Sophie, it’s all right,” Ashley soothed, bending down to her level to look her in the eye. A drop of blood hit the rug they stood on and Sophia looked down at it. They’d come to blows. Over what? She came back upright and he straightened his body along with her.

  “You told him I could be with child?” she asked in her most pleasant voice. It sounded a little choked because of all the laughter, and she wiped at her left eye with her knuckle.

  “There’s no need to cry,” Ashley continued. “I’ll make this better.” She turned to Marcus. Good God, Marcus looked like a wounded man, and he wasn’t even the one was bleeding.

  “You lied to me, Soph?” Marcus asked. He very slowly tested his grip by opening and closing his fingers.

  “I didn’t lie,” she started, swiping at mirth that overran her other eye.

  “There’s no need to cry, Sophie,” Ashley crooned.

  Crying? He thought she was crying.

  “Her name is Sophia. Miss Thorne to you. And she’s not crying, you idiot,” Marcus bit out. “She finds this extremely amusing.” His gaze moved to Ashley’s hand, which still drew light little circles on her back. It felt quite good, actually. “And I would suggest you stop touching my sister.” Marcus kept his sight on that hand, which slowed and then stopped. Ashley pulled it back as though it had something vile on it, then let it drop at his side.

  “You think this is amusing?” Ashley asked.

  Sophia drew her upper lip between her teeth for a moment to keep a loud burst of laughter from escaping. Then she said, “I find it supremely amusing that you think what we did could get me with child. I thought you were a man of the world. Lady Anne was not left under a yew hedge.”

  Color crept up Ashley’s cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak. But no sound came out. He closed it. Then he opened it again. Still nothing.

  “Exactly what did you do?” Marcus growled.

  Sophia spun to face him. “Nothing that could get me with child, I assure you.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Be more specific,” Marcus said from between gritted teeth.

  Marcus would torture himself with this until she told him the truth. “He was playing music,” she muttered.

  “Beg your pardon, I couldn’t hear you,” Marcus said, coaxing her with a hand that moved toward him. As though by sheer will alone, he could break her heart open and spill all her secrets. Not likely. “Soph,” he warned.

  Like a dog with a bone, she thought. He would never let this drop.

  “Music!” she yelled. Then she began to pace. “He was playing music. And you know how much I love music.”

  “He mentioned that. The music is what drew you to his bedchamber?” Marcus asked.

  Well, kind of. Ashley himself drew her like a moth to a flame. But the music was what woke her from a dead sleep, a sleep where she dreamed of His Grace doing wicked things to her. But Marcus didn’t need to know about that.

  “It was very compelling music. More compelling than a
ny I’ve ever heard. When he stopped playing, I borrowed his robe and went back to my chambers.”

  Marcus faced Ashley. “Is that the truth?”

  Ashley probably hadn’t answered to anyone in a very long time. Sophia hoped he wouldn’t be too vexed about it. “Yes,” he finally bit out. “That’s what happened.”

  “That’s why you were dancing in circles when you came back to your room? That’s why you looked giddy?”

  A grin slid across Ashley’s lips. He swiped at it with the back of his hand, but it was still there. He leaned closer to her. “You were happy when you returned to your chambers?” he whispered, a devilish glint in his eye.

  She bumped her shoulder into his as heat crept up her face. “Hush,” she said, a grin tugging at her own lips. “The point is that,” she turned to glare at Marcus, “I am not with child. Nor will I be.” She turned to Ashley and said, “Do you need a refresher on how babes are made? Because I assure you that nothing we did would cause it.”

  “A refresher would be fabulous,” the duke said with a wide grin. Blast his hide. He was so easy to like.

  “Assure my brother that nothing happened,” she coaxed. She should send Ashley’s grandmother to him for the education about where babies came from. That was what he deserved.

  “Nothing happened,” Ashley muttered.

  She turned to face Marcus. “And apologize for trying to rearrange his face.”

  “No,” Marcus muttered. “Why should I? He started it.”

  “You two are worse than children,” she sighed. Then she dusted her hands together. “Are we done here?”

  “He is,” Ashley said with a grunt. But then he straightened and adjusted his coat. “But then there’s the matter of my offer.”

  Marcus opened his eyes wide. “You still want to offer for her?”

  Ashley nodded and Sophia’s belly flipped over.

  She stepped closer to Marcus. “No, Marcus,” she said calmly.

  “He wants to court you,” Marcus said, and she could almost see the machinations of his mind.

  “I do,” Ashley agreed stoically. All because he didn’t know who or what she was. And she couldn’t tell him.