Lord Merlyn's Magic

by Marcy Stewart

  “How tragic. Then you and Harriet …”

  “There has never been anything between us, Abby. I won’t deny there have been times when marrying her seemed the perfect solution for Colleen’s sake. But I’ve never been able to forget that Harry is the mother of my brother’s child. And there was the problem of the husband, you see. We have only recently learned that he is dead.”

  Abby grew very still. “Then Harriet is a free woman.” She pulled the hood of her cloak closer to her face, and he barely heard her next, woe-filled words. “Now you will be able to marry her, if you wish to.”

  He looked at her quickly. The pressure inside his head began to lessen. “There is one major impediment to that course of action.”

  She peered up at him, blinking away the rain. In a hopeful voice she asked, “Harriet is like a sister to you?”

  “No,” he blurted, images of Harry’s countless overtures playing through his mind; but it would break all the rules of gentlemanly behaviour to mention them. Still, he must erase the growing alarm in Abby’s eyes. “The problem is that I do not love her. Not in that way. And she’s been through enough. She deserves more than a man who cannot give her all his heart.”

  A ghost of a smile played at Abby’s lips, then faded. “I believe you, but I don’t understand why you told me nothing about Harriet and Colleen before we reached Avilion. How could you allow me to think what I did?”

  “I warned you that I’m not kind.”

  “Oh, stuff. I have found you to be considerate upon occasion.”

  One eyebrow raised ironically. “You overwhelm me.”

  “You are welcome. Now answer my question, please.”

  He sighed deeply. “All right. I thought if you were disillusioned, you would not persist in wanting to remain with me.” He glared into her eyes, but it was evident he was not angry with her. “Now, do you still think I am considerate?”

  She studied him in silence. The sound of the courtyard cobblestones beneath the wheels startled her. She had not noticed they were almost at the stables.

  “I am beginning to think you will do anything to be rid of me.”

  Knives plunged fresh wounds into his head. He pulled the gig to a halt within a hundred yards of the stable. One of the grooms came to watch them curiously from the shelter of the building.

  “That may be true, but do not doubt, do not ever doubt, that I love you.”

  She began to speak rapidly. “When you touched my hand onstage that first night we met, you said you saw great strength—a lion’s strength—in me. No one ever spoke to me in such a way. I fear it has turned my head. I find myself saying the boldest things to you; things I would never dream of saying to anyone else. And now I tell you this. Put aside your fears for my safety. Let us live the lives we have been given as joyfully as we can.”

  Her eyes were so hopeful that he wanted to groan. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he said, “We need not be in a hurry to make decisions of this importance. We have ample time.” But he knew there could be only one decision.

  “Of course,” she said faintly.

  Forcing a twinkle into his eyes, he clucked the horse into motion. “You’ll be glad of a warm bath and fresh clothes after this adventure. And I’ll thank you to put my ring on again.”

  She attempted to imitate the lightness of his tone. “I will, and at the same time I shall return the funds I’ve borrowed from you.” When his eyes widened, she hurried on. “Speaking of fresh clothing, I look forward to the results of Mrs. White’s needlework. She took my measurements before we left Avilion and promised to send a few things before the week’s end.”

  “What fortunate news,” he said, pulling the horse to a stop in front of the stables. He handed the reins to the groom, climbed down and assisted Abby from the gig. “Does that mean you will never wear that awful mud-colored dress again?”

  “Your interest in my clothing surprises me, my lord,” she bantered bravely, walking beside him to the castle. “I thought gentlemen were unconcerned with such trivial matters.”

  He gave her a playful look. “When a lovely lady is forced to hide her beauty inside a dismal garment, any gentleman would cry foul.”

  There was a moment’s silence. “You always know what to say, Julian,” she replied, no longer able to feign jocularity. “In nearly every instance.”

  He questioned her with his eyes, but she did not return his look nor speak again, not even when they entered the cold walls of the castle and climbed the stairs to their rooms.

  Chapter 14

  Although Julian’s explanations had soothed Abby’s wounded feelings, her relief rang hollow during the next few days. Weeks ago, the prospect of setting up her own establishment would have delighted her. Now her heart was too deeply entangled to contemplate such an existence.

  Julian continued to treat her kindly, but it was a distant kindness. He never touched her except by accident, nor did he sit beside her by choice. His aloofness continued to scorch her. She longed for his kisses; she hungered for his arms to encircle her. Night after night, she stared at the door connecting their bedchambers with a feeling of incompletion and loss. More than once she imagined herself walking past the door and into his bed. But every instinct warned he would reject her, and she knew she could not bear that.

  When their paths crossed, Lord Michael observed Abby and Julian with amusement. He often tried to separate her from the other family members, but she contrived never to be alone with him. He seemed fascinated by her revulsion. Whenever she was present, he missed no opportunity to criticize the servants or throw jibes at Julian or Nina. But to her he was gentility itself. She could no more sit down than he would rush to bring a cushion for her back and an ottoman for her feet. Only the best portion of meat could be placed before her, and woe to the footman who did not drain her vegetables properly and serve her the largest trifle or pudding. Every topic raised at table must include an opinion voiced by Abby. And always, always, his eyes regarded her with a solicitousness that hinted something secret and indiscreet lay between them.

  Abby did not imagine he was attracted to her; she believed he treated her so in order to provoke angry reactions from Julian or Nina. But neither rose to the challenge, probably because his lack of subtlety did not mislead them either. Only when Lord Michael flew into a rage over some mundane matter would Julian step in to calm him. She was surprised the magician could do so easily; he need only move toward Lord Michael to make him shrink away. She could almost feel sorry for her brother-in-law, if it were not for the delight he took in creating mischief.

  As the days passed, she came to realize her first impression—that Lord Michael and Philip were much alike—was in error. There was a meanness, a small and petty viciousness behind her brother-in-law’s behaviour that hinted at madness. She was more afraid of him than she had ever been of Philip, who, now that he no longer seemed to be a threat, appeared harmless and sane in comparison. At least her almost-fiancé’s possessiveness and overbearing ways had been born of frustrated love, if such could be called love.

  Lord Donberry took a turn for the better during the next days, though he could not move from his bed. Julian visited him daily, sometimes taking Abby with him. She rapidly became fond of the marquess and his wife, a fondness they returned in kind. Lady Donberry especially seemed someone with whom she could grow close, and that lady entertained Abby with several lively conversations about Julian’s boyish escapades.

  Abby wished she could feel an equal affinity for Nina, but Lady Michael’s stifled, meek manner put her off. Abby told herself it was because she exhibited many of her own tendencies. Had Abby married Philip, she would doubtless have behaved in the same fashion.

  But none of that was Nina’s fault. Ashamed of her prejudice, Abby made every effort to be congenial. However, a week following her attempt to run away, she could not disguise her consternation when Nina knocked at her door.

  The lady held several gowns in her arms. When Abby admitted her, N
ina said softly, “I’ve noticed you didn’t pack many clothes, so I thought you might like to borrow a few of my gowns while you are here. We are much the same size, and I don’t think alterations will be necessary.”

  “How kind of you,” Abby gushed, feeling dismay. Were they the same size? A quick glance in the cheval glass beside the door confirmed the fact. Somehow, she had felt much taller than this poor, bland woman. “Julian has been complaining about my dreary wardrobe. But I’m afraid your generosity is unnecessary because I received several new gowns from Avilion this morning. I’ve just finished trying them on. Would you care to see them?”

  Nina placed her dresses on the sofa and said she would. Abby instructed Charlotte Ann to bring the garments from the wardrobe one at a time, and all three women commented on the various merits of each.

  “I fear Mrs. White must have sewn night and day to make four gowns in this length of time,” Abby said. She smiled contentedly. “Two for day wear, and two for evening. I haven’t had so many new clothes at once in—,” with a pang she recalled giddy buying sprees with her mother, “—in years.”

  “You must wear the lavender muslin today,” Nina replied, her mouth barely opening as she formed the words. “Purple is Michael’s favorite color.”

  Abby looked at her in surprise.

  “I like for him to be pleased,” Nina explained.

  “So I would imagine,” Abby said.

  Nina fingered the fabric of the lavender gown. “He’s been a sad man since his father died.” She dropped her hands into her lap and knitted her fingers together restlessly. “That loss devastated him more than anyone knows.”

  Glancing up suddenly, she looked at Abby with determined eyes. “We must all try to do our best to help Michael feel better. He is a good man, a deserving man. I see how Julian watches him with suspicion, how he never allows him to visit Carl alone, and I tell you, it should stop. I don’t like to think he’s turning the marquess against him. It is very upsetting to Michael.”

  Nina was breathing hard and blinking, obviously trying to gain control of her emotions. Abby watched her speechlessly. Charlotte Ann cleared her throat, rolled her eyes, and jumped to restore the gowns to the wardrobe.

  “I don’t mean to offend you,” Nina said after several uncomfortable moments. “It is only that Michael means everything to me. I want him to be happy.” Her lips tightened. “How long do you remain with us?”

  Shocked at the lady’s rudeness, Abby stiffened. “I truly cannot say. Julian has not mentioned a departure date yet.”

  Nina nodded once, slowly, and stood. She walked to the sofa and collected her gowns, then took her leave with a minimal exchange of words. When she had gone. Abby turned to Charlotte Ann.

  “Pinch me; I must be dreaming,” Abby said. “How can she possibly be so besotted with Lord Michael when he treats her as he does?”

  “Takes all kinds,” Charlotte Ann commented sagely.

  *

  During the remainder of the day, Abby tried not to think about her strange interview with Nina. Instead, she gloried in the feel of her new day dress—she chose the ivory one with an overlay of old lace, not the lavender—and the compliments it brought.

  After luncheon she persuaded Julian to walk with her in the park that surrounded the castle walls and told him of the morning visit. He did not seem as surprised as she.

  “Sometimes people learn to side with their oppressors,” he said. “It happens in war; why should it not happen in domestic situations? Although I must admit I’d not expected a spirited defense of anything from a timid woman like Nina.”

  “Have you ever obtained a reading from her?” Abby asked. When he admitted he had not, she added with a smile, “Perhaps she hides great strength. She may be a lioness in disguise.”

  “You are the only lioness I care to know.” The light in his eyes made her feel she had been embraced. She swayed toward him, but he moved back almost imperceptibly, his boots scraping the brick walkway.

  Of course, Julian, she thought painfully It wouldn’t do for me to touch you.

  As if to make amends for his coldness, he inquired, “Have I told you how lovely you look in that new dress?”

  Her smile wavered back to life. “I don’t remember,” she teased, pushing aside her hurt. “Would you like to do so now?”

  *

  That evening before dinner, Abby dressed in her favorite new gown, a deep blue satin cut in the fashionable Greek style with high waistline and low décolletage. Tiny jewels were sewn across the bodice and hem like fairy dust. Mrs. White had sent along decorative blue feathers which Charlotte Ann pinned into a bandeau and interlaced among Abby’s upswept curls. Her only jewelry, other than Julian’s ring, was the locket containing her parents’ miniatures.

  The others were gathered in the hall when she descended. Julian was reading a magazine, Lord Michael paced in front of the fireplace, and Nina sat some distance away, embroidering flowers on a piece of white linen.

  At Abby’s entrance, Julian glanced up from his magazine and set it aside. As he stood, his gaze moved over her appreciatively. A slow smile crossed his face. Abby blushed and felt herself growing warmer and warmer. She could not look away from him. He was devastatingly handsome in his black evening clothes and white linen shirt. The intense blue of his eyes was casting a spell over her. She was bewitched. She wanted him to cross the room and take her in his arms.

  But it was Lord Michael who rushed to her side. “I have never seen anyone so lovely in my life,” he said eagerly, then took her hand and led her to sit on a satin sofa near his wife. “Look at her, Nina. Take note of the simplicity of her dress, the purity of its color. You would do well to imitate such a style, though naturally Abby’s beauty and youth cannot be copied.”

  Abby cast a distressed look in Nina’s direction, but the lady’s wan smile remained in place, her head tilted in a half-bow. For the first time, Abby found her meekness chilling. But she dismissed it from her mind when the dinner bell sounded, and they moved into the dining room.

  Abby could never enter this room without thinking of a cave, or a chapel. The chamber was impossibly long and narrow, the ceiling appearing higher than the room’s width. A series of stained glass windows yawned along the outside wall. The table was at least twenty feet in length; and though the four of them sat at one end of it, proximity could not make them cozy, nor could the attentive servers, whose shoes slapped the stone floor with echoing importance.

  As always, Lord Michael led the conversation, chattering about the estate, Napoleon’s exile, the shameful condition of veterans, and any other subject that entered his head. Abby’s mind wandered. Once she caught Nina’s eyes upon her, but the lady’s gaze quickly returned to her plate.

  “I think Carl is much improved, don’t you?” Lord Michael asked loudly. “He’ll soon be well enough to join us downstairs, I think.”

  “Do you?” Julian asked mildly. “I hope you’re correct.”

  Lord Michael frowned. “Well, you saw him when I did. He ate a full meal today, the first in a fortnight. Don’t you think it a good sign?”

  “I do if nothing further happens to make him ill.”

  “Are you implying something, Gypsy?”

  “Not at all. Why? Should I?”

  Lord Michael laughed. “If you’re trying to be subtle, Julian, you’re not managing very well.”

  Leaning back to allow the footman room to serve his plate, Lord Michael’s eyebrows suddenly pulled together. “What is this, Grimsdorff? It looks like salmon, but that cannot be. No one would bury salmon in cream sauce with peas and carrots and mushrooms. And by my soul, can this be celery?” His face darkened. “Well, don’t leave it in front of me, man! Take this monstrous concoction back to the kitchens! If Spurrows can’t poach the fish properly, he will soon find himself sacked!”

  Without visible emotion, the footman bowed and removed the plate.

  Lord Michael turned to Abby and said with sudden gentleness, “Would you
like to return that dish, my dear? You don’t have to eat it.”

  “The salmon looks perfectly delicious to me,” she said primly. Her brother-in-law’s tantrums were increasing as the days passed. His childishness both frightened and embarrassed her.

  Her rejection appeared to disturb him. “I am going to visit Carl,” he said suddenly, and pushed back his chair.

  Julian’s voice crossed the table like a whip. “Not now. He and Sophia are having their dinner.”

  “What does that matter? Carl is always happy to see me.”

  Nina turned toward him but kept her eyes lowered. “You’ve not eaten, dear.”

  A peevish look stole across his features. “Have Grimsdorff bring my meal upstairs. I’ll dine with my brother.” He rose and walked toward the door.

  Julian threw an apologetic glance at Abby and stood. “I’ll join you.”

  “No!” Lord Michael turned back, his cheeks suffusing with color. “For once I wish to see Carl alone! Since you came, you have attached yourself to me like a leech, and I am heartily sick of it! It’s my right to spend time with him; do not forget it is I who am his only true brother, not you!”

  Abby’s eyes widened as Julian rushed around the table. To her relief, she saw no anger in his face, only tight control. When he reached for Lord Michael’s arm, the older man jerked away.

  “Don’t touch me! I know what you are, and you’ll not taint me with your evil!”

  He ran for the stairs. Julian paused only long enough to excuse himself and followed.

  Silence descended. The remaining footman turned his back to them and quietly began lifting and replacing lids on the dishes arrayed at the sideboard to no apparent purpose. Abby stole a look at Nina. She did not seem unduly upset, had not even paused in eating the despised salmon. Abby attempted to imitate her and lifted her fork.

  Lord Michael had been right; the food was tasteless. After a moment, she replaced the utensil and put her hands to her face. Her cheeks felt hot.