A Lady and Her Magic

by Tammy Falkner

  Thorne’s hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed it. Ashley fought the urge to shrug him off. “I don’t offer marriage lightly,” Ashley informed him.

  “I don’t warn you off marriage lightly,” Thorne responded. He was difficult to read, but Ashley almost sensed that he regretted his words. The whole situation. “I warn you for your own good. She’s not of your world. She can’t stay in it.”

  “Try to take her from it, and you’ll regret it,” Ashley finally bit out.

  Thorne’s face softened. “No, I’m afraid you will.”

  ***

  Sophia fanned her face as Captain Perkins led her from the dance floor. It was growing warm enough that she felt moist in the crowded room.

  “Can I get you some punch?” the captain asked.

  “Punch would be heavenly,” Sophia sighed with a smile. He was a nice man. Not everyone had insides that matched their outsides, and vice versa, but she sensed that his did. He led her over to the punch bowl, allowed a servant to prepare a glass for her, and placed it in her hand. She took a healthy sip. “Thank you.”

  He looked toward her torn dance card and grinned. “It appears as though no one has taken the next few sets.”

  Sophia laughed. “I wouldn’t have a clue if someone did or not. Perhaps someone will remember me and come to claim their due.” She shrugged. She really didn’t care if no one arrived to claim her. She enjoyed talking with Captain Perkins. She’d rather be with Ashley, but the captain was a nice man.

  “I’m surprised Robinsworth hasn’t come to claim you, yet.” He glanced about them. “Perhaps he left?”

  Sophia highly doubted it. She scrunched up her face.

  Captain Perkins laughed. “Yes, I doubt it as well. He seems rather intrigued with you.”

  Sophia didn’t know what to say to that.

  “Will you accept a friendly warning about him?” He looked down at her, his gaze serious and concerned.

  “Something tells me I do not have a choice in the matter.” Then she squeezed his arm. “Pray continue. It will do me good to hear the truth about the man.” She batted her lashes at him. “You did intend to tell me the truth, did you not?”

  He chuckled and leaned close to her. “When you do that flirty little thing with your eyelashes, it makes me want to lie to you just to see if I can coerce you to do it again.” He sighed dramatically. “But, truthfully, Robinsworth is a dangerous man.”

  “So I have heard.” She clucked her tongue at him. “What evidence do you have of this?” She tugged the top of her glove toward her elbow and didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to give too much credence to his words. No more than they deserved.

  “His wife falling from the tower of their ancestral home is not evidence enough?”

  “I don’t believe he pushed her.” Sophia would not believe that. Not for a second.

  “Nor do I,” Perkins said quickly.

  “Then why on earth are we having this conversation?”

  “Because someone did push her. She did fall from the tower.”

  “You don’t think she could have tossed herself from the turret?”

  “Not very likely, since she was confined to a wheeled chair. She could barely move herself from the bed to the conveyance.”

  Sophia’s gaze shot up to meet his. She had heard none of this. Not once had anyone mentioned that the late duchess was disabled. “What was her ailment?”

  “That’s not common knowledge.”

  “Of course, it’s not.” Sophia drank the last of her punch and passed the glass to a waiting footman. “Nothing about the Duke of Robinsworth is common knowledge.”

  “One thing is well known, Miss Thorne. He’s dangerous. Do take care around him.”

  Sophia nodded. What more could she do? It wasn’t as though she would be alone with the duke any time in the near future. Her mission had been given to Claire.

  The next set began and no one came to claim Sophia for a dance. Sophia was relieved. But the music began to steal her wits.

  “Are you all right, Miss Thorne?” Captain Perkins asked, taking her elbow in his palm to steady her.

  “The music,” she said, raising a hand to rub her temple.

  “Would you care to walk with me to the card room? I’d like to check on my sister. The last time I saw her, she was heavily involved in a game of whist.”

  She tucked her hand into his arm and inclined her head. They started down the long corridor, but as they walked farther toward the noisy, voice-packed room at the end of the passage, Sophia heard a melodious voice coming from a nearby room. “Who is that?” she asked of the captain.

  He inclined his head toward the sound and concentrated. “Sounds like Lady Ramsdale, maybe?” He shrugged. “I’m not certain.”

  “Lady Ramsdale sings?”

  “Like a songbird,” the captain said. “She has the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard.” He shook his head. “But she only sings by special request for special guests. It’s rather rare to hear her break into song in this type of setting.”

  They continued down the corridor toward what Sophia assumed must be the music room, and the words become clearer and clearer, as did the tone. It struck her heart like an anvil strikes metal. Like the kick of a horse. Like the tick of a clock that ticked at her very being. Like Ashley’s music. She inhaled deeply and tried to steady herself.

  The captain stepped to the side and motioned for her to precede him into the room. She did so, skirting around the room to stand in the rear. There were fewer than a dozen people in the room, but it seemed crowded. Sophia let the sound of Lady Ramsdale’s voice wash over her, closing her eyes as the lady hit the high notes, feeling them all the way to her soul. In that moment, it was almost as though a piece of her cracked into two pieces.

  Unfounded tears suddenly burned the backs of her lashes, and she found it nearly impossible to commit to a full breath. She blinked hard and studied the woman standing beside the piano. Lady Ramsdale’s auburn hair tumbled from her upsweep to tease her bare shoulders. Bare shoulders that were riddled with freckles. Freckles she obviously didn’t feel the need to hide. She had them across the bridge of her nose as well. Her nose was narrow and her cheekbones high. She looked quite fae, truth be told.

  Sophia’s lungs began to burn with every inhale. She laid a hand on her chest and tried to steady herself. But the lady’s song was tantamount in her mind. Then Lady Ramsdale reached one hand to adjust the pewter comb that held her hair in place, and as she adjusted, Sophia thought she saw the edge of a pointy ear present itself from behind her hair. Lord Ramsdale was beside her in a trice, adjusting her comb and patting her hair back into its place. She smiled softly at him, a wicked little smile that made him blush. She ran a fingertip slowly down his upper arm. He shot her a playful look and stepped away from her.

  She continued to sing, never breaking her stride, the music rising and falling over Sophia like water over the falls. And just as harshly. Her knees began to tremble. She reached out one hand toward Captain Perkins as a tear traced a hot path down her left cheek. But suddenly, the captain wasn’t there. Sophia stumbled into a hard object. She looked up, her vision blurred by her tears, and saw the man she needed. The only one she needed.

  “Ashley,” she said aloud. The music in the room stopped. Every eye turned toward them.

  “Sophie,” he said, his brow furrowing as he caught her to him. “What’s the matter?”

  She stretched her arms about his neck and held on, but her arms quivered under her own weight, and her knees refused to support her. She collapsed against him. He swept her up into his arms and looked down into her face.

  “Sophie,” he cried, his voice harsh and jarring. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

  He lowered his face close to hers, as though he could give her the breaths tha
t left his mouth to replace her own, which refused to support her. “I think she’s my mother,” Sophia whispered. Then darkness overtook her, and she let it.

  ***

  Ashley looked down into Sophia’s face and took in her pale countenance, her closed eyes, and the weakness of her body, and his heart lurched within his chest. “Sophie,” he called to her, gently jostling her within his arms. “Come on, Soph,” he urged.

  Sophia’s brother approached him and attempted to take her from his arms. “Let me have her, Robinsworth,” he said, shooting Ashley a glance that could have stopped a charging elephant in its tracks.

  “Not on your life,” Ashley replied, turning her body away from her brother. It was terribly selfish of him, he knew. But he wasn’t about to put Sophia in anyone else’s arms.

  Suddenly, her grandmother was at his side. “Come this way,” she urged, as she bustled out the door and down a long corridor. She stopped at a small yellow parlor and stepped to the side to allow him in. Ashley lowered Sophia’s inert body onto a settee and dropped to his knees beside her.

  “Did she grow overwarm?” Ramsdale asked from the doorway. But then his wife shoved her way into the room and moved Ashley to the side with a gentle push. He made way for her. He didn’t want to, but he did. He’d never felt quite so lost. Quite so desperate for help.

  Lady Ramsdale took Sophia’s hand in hers and squeezed it gently. She touched the side of Sophia’s face with gentle fingertips, as though looking for something even Ashley couldn’t see. When she looked up, tears welled in her eyes. “Mine,” she breathed. Then a sob tore from her throat, and she pressed a hand to her mouth and rose. She dashed across the room and flew into Sophia’s grandmother’s arms.

  Lord Ramsdale looked about as discomfited as Ashley felt. He watched his wife with horror on his face. Lady Ramsdale cried into Sophia’s grandmother’s shoulder until her sobs became small hiccups. Then the older lady pushed Lady Ramsdale from her with her hands upon her shoulders and said, “It took you long enough to recognize us.” She grinned an impudent and unrepentant grin.

  “Exactly what is going on, here?” Thorne asked.

  Lord Ramsdale shrugged. Ashley couldn’t answer either. And Sophia still lay on the settee with her eyes closed, her breaths falling naturally and comfortably in her stupor. Only Sophia’s grandmother and Lady Ramsdale had a clue as to what was transpiring, it seemed.

  “I never thought she’d find me,” Lady Ramsdale breathed. Then she looked at Thorne and covered her mouth again. “Marcus,” she said. She crossed the floor and tried to envelop him in her arms. He stepped to the side, incredulity still written on his face. Thorne looked to Ramsdale as though begging for assistance with his wife.

  “He doesn’t recognize me,” she said with wonder, as another sob hiccupped from her.

  “Have we met, Lady Ramsdale?” Thorne asked.

  “Once upon a time, yes,” she said. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. She didn’t reach for him again. Not yet.

  Suddenly it was clear to Ashley. The flashing hazel eyes. The dark auburn hair, with more curl than was fashionable. The high cheekbones and pixie-like appearance. But it wasn’t his story to tell. It was hers. And Ramsdale appeared to be in the dark as well. The poor man’s gaze was flashing from one person to the next.

  “Let’s move Sophia above stairs, shall we?” Lady Ramsdale said with a wave of her hand. Ashley moved forward to pick her up, but Ramsdale moved faster.

  “I can carry my daughter above stairs, thank you, Your Grace,” he said, his voice cracking at the last. Then he speared Ashley with a glance. “Can I leave it to you, Your Grace, to handle the festivities while I take care of familial obligations?”

  Meaning, could he give Ashley a meaningless task to take his mind off the fact that Sophia was about to meet her parents for the first time? To keep him from hearing their deepest secrets? To permit them some dignity during this trying time? He supposed he owed them that much. “May I call upon her when the guests have departed?”

  Ramsdale glanced down into Sophia’s sleeping face, and he coughed to clear the lump from his throat. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

  Ashley shook his head. “Today.”

  Ramsdale sighed heavily. Ashley feared he had some explaining to do. And so did they.

  Twenty-Two

  Sophia woke to the notes of a gently hummed song. The sound of it washed over her like a warm blanket, comforting and snug. She blinked her eyes open, not entirely sure of where she was, and took in the sunny bedchamber with the reddish-purple hues of the sunrise visible out the window. She stretched broadly and looked for the source of the hum.

  At her side, a woman sat with an embroidery hoop in her hand. She pulled a piece of gossamer thread through the sheerest of fabrics. She hummed softly to herself as she did so, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her hazel eyes suddenly rose to meet Sophia’s and she startled. Her grin widened. “Oh, you’re finally awake.”

  Sophia sat up on her elbows. “Where am I?” she asked. Then vague recollections of the night before clouded her senses. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to remember. But it was all cloudy. One thing she did remember, however, was falling into Ashley’s arms just after she’d recognized her mother.

  Her mother.

  Her mother sat before her. There was no doubt in Sophia’s mind that the woman smiling at her was her mother. The lady brushed her hair back over her ear and Sophia noticed the small pointy crest of it, evidence that she was fae. She let her gaze linger on the woman’s features. So much like her own.

  “I know this is all a shock to you,” Lady Ramsdale said, reaching a hand toward Sophia. But Sophia scuttled outside of her grasp in the big bed. Lady Ramsdale tilted her head to the side and sighed heavily. “I understand your reticence. Really I do.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them back, and then swiped quickly at her nose. “I have a lot to tell you,” she said.

  “You’ve had twenty-six years to tell me anything I needed to know.” Sophia knew the words were harsh. They made her wince, and she was the one who said them.

  “I couldn’t go back,” her mother said with a quick shake of her head. As though her affirmations could explain it all. “I had no magic. No dust. I tried. I couldn’t find the portal. Time after time, I tried. I even made your father go with me. He has compared me to a Bedlamite on more than one occasion.” She began to fidget with the bedclothes. She took a deep breath. A breath heavy enough Sophia was surprised that she didn’t suck all the air from the room. “I never thought they would be able to take you from me.”

  “Where is Grandmother?”

  “Sleeping. I sent them all to bed. Even Marcus. He’s quite confused.”

  If he was half as confused as Sophia, he was nearly insane.

  “Only your duke is still awake. He’s probably still standing vigil at the door.” Her hazel eyes twinkled. “He’s the one, isn’t he?” She leaned forward and propped her chin in her hand, blinking those pretty eyes at Sophia. It was like looking into a mirror.

  Sophia shook her head. “He can’t be the one. He’s not of my world.”

  Lady Ramsdale snorted lightly. But she didn’t say anything else. She reached into her pocket and pulled forth the silver casket Sophia had given to Lord Ramsdale the night before. “I believe this is for you.”

  Sophia sputtered. “I gave that to your husband last night. It was our mission.”

  The lady chuckled heartily, tears welling again in her eyes. “My father’s machinations, I imagine. I am so glad he finally came to his senses. I thought he’d never do this.”

  Sophia shoved her hands back as her mother tried to give the casket to her. “But it’s sealed by magic. I can’t open it.”

  “I have already opened it. It filled in a lot of blanks for me. I imagine there’s one for Marcus, too.” Sh
e held it out again.

  Sophia shook her head. “What’s in it?”

  Lady Ramsdale shrugged. “My memories of you.” She shook her head quickly and got up to face the window. She kept talking. And Sophia let her. “I thought my magic would be strong enough. I thought I could keep you. I cast a few spells, enchanted some charms. I even enchanted you. Your love for music? Have you ever wondered where it came from?”

  Sophia had always wondered.

  “It’s a token I planted within you. A memory of me. One of my greatest loves, aside from my husband and children, is music. In case my spells didn’t keep you here with me, I wanted you to be able to find me someday.” She shrugged. “It worked.”

  “You tried to keep me with you.” Sophia sat forward, fully absorbed in the tale.

  “With my very being,” she said, clutching a fist to her chest. “I’m the daughter of one of the Trusted Few, for goodness sake. A renowned mission faerie. A thing of legend and lore. I thought my magic would be strong enough. It wasn’t.” She equivocated. “Well, it was. But it was a little too late.”

  She sat down on the edge of Sophia’s bed and continued her tale, her words frantic and hurried and barely comprehensible. “When someone of the fae falls in love with a human, he or she must make a choice. A lady must choose between his world and hers, you see? I had to choose to stay with your father and go forward with him in this world, knowing full well that any children I had who were born fae would be taken from me just after their birth. Along with my memories.”

  Sophia opened her mouth to speak but closed it quickly when her mother rushed on.

  “It’s an ending we expect, but I thought I would be able to keep you. I took every opportunity I had to break the fae hold upon you.” She held up both hands as though offering something to Sophia. “It didn’t work. They came and took you, and they took my memories of you. Of all that I did.” She reached for the silver casket. “That’s what’s in this box.”

  Sophia didn’t take it.

  “I tried something different with each of you. With you and Marcus, it didn’t work. I didn’t know until I laid eyes upon you that you even existed. But I knew you with my heart the moment I saw you.” She clutched a fist to her chest again.