Guardian - Stolen Magic Part 17

David was beginning to wonder if he was dreaming this whole encounter. Mere weeks ago, he and Sarah had barely been able to put food on the table, and now a second n.o.bleman wished to sponsor him? "Your lords.h.i.+p's generosity is truly magnificent, but I already have an investment partner."

Drayton snorted. "Let me guess. Would that be Lord Falconer?"

"Indeed it is, sir. How did you guess?"

"Falconer and I have . . . interests in common." The glint in Drayton's dark eyes made ice look temperate. "He has won this round, but there will be others. My secretary will send you more information about the forum and the patent process. Good day, Mr. White. Mrs. White." This time his nod to her was a little deeper and more respectful. He turned and left as abruptly as he had arrived.

David sank onto a bench. "Am I dreaming, or did we just have another lord here offering us money and fame?"

"You weren't dreaming." Sarah stared after the vanished Drayton.

"If Falconer decides to cease funding my work, it's good to know that another patron is ready and waiting."

Sarah frowned. "I wouldn't want to be beholden to that one, David. Nor do I want to become caught in a compet.i.tion between two n.o.blemen."

"I like Falconer better myself," David admitted. "But if he withdraws his support, Drayton's offer could prove useful."

Sarah's face set in stubborn lines, something David had seen only once or twice before. "We will not have Drayton as a patron, David. If we need another investor later, we can find someone else. A merchant, not a lord. I wouldn't want Drayton's money."

Startled by her vehemence, he said peaceably, "As you wish, my love."

It was the megrims of pregnancy affecting her, he decided. She would come around if they ever needed Drayton's support.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

Meg stared at herself in the mirror, trying to reconcile the image of a terrifyingly grand lady with Mad Meggie. The sumptuous silk brocade gown was patterned with roses and opened in front to reveal a deep rose-colored petticoat. The stomacher was covered with intricate gold embroidery and gemstones, and the skirts were so wide that if not for the hinged panniers, she couldn't have pa.s.sed through a doorway without turning sideways. Even her hair powder had a subtle undertone of rose to harmonize with the gown. In short, she looked like a total stranger.

Wis.h.i.+ng her confidence matched her splendid facade, she said to her lady's maid, "Thank you, Molly. You have made me appear to be a genuine society lady."

"You are a genuine society lady," a deep voice said from the doorway. "A very beautiful one."

As she turned to the door, Simon entered her boudoir. She caught her breath. He was always handsome, but in full evening dress of blue velvet and satin, he was mesmerizing. Though his white wig made him seem distant and intimidatingly fas.h.i.+onable, the effect was softened by his hound Otto, who padded beside him on silent paws. Trying not to gape, she said, "Thank you, but credit for my appearance goes to Lady Bethany, the modiste, and Molly."

He set a velvet covered box on a table. "They only gilded an already lovely lily."

She made a face. "Am I going to have to spend the evening deciphering complicated compliments?"

He laughed. "Without question. Every man who sees you will be trying to come up with new ways of saying how beautiful you are. Expect poetry. Just don't expect it to be good poetry."

She would prefer to be invisible, but didn't know any spells for that. "I a.s.sume that as a mere uneducated female, I don't have to be clever in return."

"All you need do is smile and the gentlemen will be falling at your feet. I do hope that none of them challenge me to a duel to win your favor."

As Meg smiled at his banter, Otto decided to sniff at Lucky, who was curled in a ball under the vanity table. Taking instant offense, Lucky hissed and scrambled for safety on top of the nearest high object, which happened to be Meg.

"Oh, no!" Molly wailed as the cat raced upward, tiny claws digging into the embroidered rose silk. "That little beast will ruin your gown!"

"No, he won't." Simon swooped in and captured Lucky just as the cat was about to latch on to the wide fall of lace that spilled around Meg's wrist. "The claw marks won't be visible amidst all the embroidery."

Laughing, Meg scratched her cat's head, the only part of him not caged by Simon's hands. "He doesn't seem to understand that Otto is forbidden to hurt him."

"If a creature fifty times my size was sniffing me like a beefsteak, I'd be nervous, too," Simon observed.

Meg dismissed Molly before the maid could start worrying about orange cat hairs getting on the gown. When she and Simon were private, his light manner dropped away. "Of course you're worried about your first ball. Any woman would be. But remember that you are going to this event with a goal-to discern whether Drayton has other captives. The conversation and dancing will take care of themselves."

His words settled Meg's nerves. She turned to examine herself in the mirror again. "This incredibly expensive costume is armor, isn't it? A way to disguise myself so I can learn what I need to know." The thought made her feel strong instead of uncertain and vulnerable.

"Exactly. We have discussed how you intend to proceed. I will never be far away. This will be your best opportunity to discover the truth."

Their gazes met in the mirror. His words made her feel that they were warriors together. "And if we find others in thrall?"

"Then we will free them." Simon raised Lucky and stroked the purring cat's soft fur along Meg's bare throat. "You need some jewelry for a finis.h.i.+ng touch."

s.h.i.+vers ran through her at the wanton sensuality of the gesture. "I don't think that Lucky can be trusted to stay perched on my shoulder," she said breathlessly.

"Cats tend not to be good ornaments." He brushed the silky cat along Meg's cheek with teasing delicacy. "So we had best keep Lucky out of Otto's reach."

Simon placed the cat on the vanity table, where he retreated to settle among bottles of potions and perfumes. Then Simon retrieved his velvet box, which was wide and flat, with a double lid. "You can wear the Falconer diamonds. They are rather famous." He flipped up the right-hand lid.

Meg gasped at the brilliance of the gems that sparkled from necklace, earrings, and bracelets. She took a closer look. "A tiara?"

"For the most formal occasions only," he explained. "I understand it gives the wearer a fearsome headache."

She rested her fingertips on the centerpiece of the necklace, which was an amazingly large square-cut diamond. The gem was framed and supported by gold settings and three strands of smaller diamonds that sparkled with beauty. The stone carried traces of several different women's energy. The strongest signature was of a swift, restless, mercurial temperament. A woman of charm and volatility. "This set belonged to your mother?"

"She was the most recent owner."

Meg withdrew her hand. "These are beautiful, but I . . . I'd rather not wear them."

"She wasn't wearing these when she died," he said quietly.

"I didn't think so-there is no pain energy caught in the stones. But it seems wrong to wear family jewels when I'm not a real member of your family."

"I thought you might feel that way." He closed that lid and opened the other side. "Here is an alternative."

A blaze of scarlet met her eyes. This suite of jewelry was made of rubies and lighter in style than the diamonds. To her eyes, the pieces were far more beautiful than the family jewels. She skimmed her fingers over the necklace and earrings. "This is new, isn't it? I can feel only trace energy impressions, all of them male, probably the gem cutters and jewelers." She frowned. "There's also some strong magic bound up in the stones."

"You're very perceptive. I bought this set new as a gift for you. The magic is a protection spell."

"No!" she exclaimed. "You mustn't give me anything so valuable. You've given me far too much already."

"You saved my life. That is worth more than rubies to me. Think how undignified it would be if my unicorn head ended up mounted above Drayton's fireplace." He took the necklace from its velvet nest. "The spell might not be needed, but it won't hurt to have more protection available. Would you like to see how this looks?"

Meg wavered between her wish not to be even more beholden and a purely female desire to wear jewels that were so much to her taste. Desire won. "Please."

He fastened the necklace around her throat. The image of them in the mirror was unreal, a reflection of two impossibly handsome people. Yet the gold was cool against her skin and his warm fingertips sent excitement s.h.i.+vering through her. Her heartbeat quickened. "You're trying to distract me from my nerves, aren't you?"

"That's part of it." He bent and pressed his lips to the bare flesh just above the rubies. "But not everything I do is calculated. You are entrancing, Meg. I am having some trouble remembering that we should be leaving for the ball right now."

Though tempted to close her eyes and lean back against him in wanton invitation, she managed to say, "Duty calls."

"I'm glad that one of us remembers duty." He kissed her on the pulse point below her jaw, then stepped away. In the mirror, she saw the mask of control drop into place.

She put on the earrings, which moved with scarlet vivacity when she turned her head, then donned the matched bracelets. Last of all she raised her fan and opened it for Simon to see the painted image. "Jean gave me this to commemorate my first ball."

He smiled ruefully when he saw the scene depicted. "A unicorn hunt with the beast laying his head in the virgin's lap. Jean has a wicked sense of humor."

Meg studied the fan. "This makes it all look so peaceful. No fierceness in this unicorn. No murderous hunters. No sense of wonder."

"Is that what you felt, Meg?"

She thought back to the moment when an impossible, ethereally beautiful creature laid his s.h.i.+mmering head in her lap, the twisted horn reflecting subtle rainbow highlights. "It was the most remarkable moment of my life." It was also the beginning of the end of Mad Meggie, and thank G.o.d for that.

"Whatever fate brought us together, it truly was remarkable." He offered his arm. "Shall we venture forth to dazzle society and steal Drayton's secrets?"

She laid her hand on the exquisitely soft blue velvet of his coat. "This time, I will not let him captivate my will." But though her words were emphatic, in her heart she was less sure. Drayton was connected to her energy, and she was still vulnerable to him.

But surely that connection ran both ways, and he could be vulnerable to her. She intended to find out.

Meg's first ball was everything she had expected, and a great deal more. The guests were a mixture of mundanes and Guardians, and they sparkled with color and vivacity. The Guardians, perhaps, sparkled a little bit more. She also loved the music, which was played by a group of professional musicians whose skill far exceeded anything she'd ever heard.

She was less fond of the scents of too many perfumes, candles, and bodies heated by dancing. She simply wasn't used to being around so many people, and the weight of their minds was a good test of her s.h.i.+elding. Luckily, she had been trained well.

After several dance sets, Simon headed off to get them cool drinks, leaving Meg to relax in a chair at one edge of the ballroom. Jean Macrae approached and took the chair next to her. In a room filled with white wigs and powdered hair, Jean's blazing red locks stood out. They had greeted each other earlier, but hadn't had a chance to talk.

"That was a beautiful minuet you and Simon performed." Jean's eyes twinkled. "Your dance style is remarkably like Gwynne's."

Meg laughed. "Thank heaven for her lesson! I thought I'd perish of shyness when I found out that everyone was going to watch us. I think that Simon must have used a calming spell to get me through the first steps."

"Very likely. He's a practical man." Jean made a wry face. "You look so lovely and polished that I heard two Guardian women say that you couldn't possibly have spent ten years in thrall. Sometimes one can't win no matter what one does."

"I choose to take that comment as a compliment," Meg said. "But people can be very tiresome."

"Especially for a powerful magic holder like you. There are several ladies' retiring rooms upstairs if you need to take a break from all the people."

"I'm almost ready now." Meg raised her fan and wafted cool air over her face.

"What did Simon say when he saw the fan?"

Meg glanced down at the painted unicorn. "He said you have a wicked sense of humor. I'm not quite sure if that was a compliment."

"Probably not." Jean laughed. "Since he and Duncan are close friends, he is something of a big brother to me. An indulgent if alarming big brother." Her smile faded as her gaze scanned the crowded chamber. "I haven't seen Drayton. Have you?"

Meg shook her head. "No, and I've certainly been watching. I don't think he's here, or I would sense his presence. I don't know whether to be relieved, or sorry that I won't have the chance to face him after girding myself to do so."

"Be relieved. Nothing good can come from that man." Jean wielded her own fan, an elegant trifle decorated with a Chinese scene. "It's amazing how quickly I've progressed from being terrified of b.a.l.l.s to acceptance, and now to a certain ennui."

"Does that mean that you've made no progress toward the goal of finding a husband?" Meg said teasingly.

"Not even close. I've met several eligible males who might be willing to make an offer if I encouraged them, but none of them are particularly interesting, and I have no desire to settle for someone who is merely adequate." She frowned. "I've always felt that I wouldn't marry a Guardian, but I've done no better in meeting mundanes than with the Families."

"You still miss your young man?" Meg asked softly.

Jean snapped her fan shut. "I shall always miss him. Robbie and I had known each other our whole lives. Though he was mundane, that . . . never mattered. He was my best friend." The candlelight caught a glint of tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"So am I." She managed a smile. "But I'm doing my best to get on with my life. It's what Robbie would have wanted, and what I would have wanted for him if I were the one who had died. People can recover from the most horrific things, after all. A couple months ago, you were virtually a slave, and now look at you-you're a beautiful countess, with one of the best men in Britain for a husband."

"Believe me, I remember daily how lucky I am!" Meg rose, feeling the need to get out of the ballroom for a few minutes. "I see that Simon has been waylaid by your brother so I'l visit the retiring room. Tell him I 'l be back soon."

"I will, but I may drink your iced punch if you're gone long."

Meg laughed. "Please do." She headed purposefully for the door, not wanting anyone to catch her eye so that she would need to stop and talk. Though she was enjoying herself, Jean had been right about the need to take a break from the crowd.

Because Lady Bethany's home in Richmond was too far out of London for convenience, Lady Sterling had offered the use of Sterling House's s.p.a.cious ballroom. Tonight there were no damping spells like the ones that had been so suffocating at Drayton's hearing.

Thinking of Drayton sent a s.h.i.+ver through her. It was almost more unnerving to wonder why he wasn't here than it was to confront him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

As Jean had said, several bedchambers on the floor above had been converted to retiring rooms, their doors opened invitingly. In the first, several young mundane girls chatted slanderously among themselves. In the second room, a maid was kneeling to hem a torn flounce on an older woman's gown. The third room was empty, so Meg entered. A screen concealed a chamber pot, while a table offered a basin and pitcher, towels, lavender water for cooling one's temples, and other small luxuries for guests.

For Meg, it was enough to have silence. She perched on a chair, since her corset was not designed to permit lounging.

What if it wasn't possible to bring Drayton to justice? She had volunteered to play the part of Simon's wife until the job was done, but what if the rogue laid low and refrained from causing more trouble? How long would she be willing to stay before setting off on her quest to find her family? Surely Simon would not insist she stay in London indefinitely.

She sighed and trailed her fingers through the bowl of lavender water. Though she didn't want to owe Simon too much, she would have to continue to accept his charity until she found her family. It was hard to see beyond that. Harder yet to guess what she would do with herself if she didn't find her kin. If she could make herself useful to the Guardians, it would make it easier to accept their charity.

"Lady Falconer?"

"Yes?" Meg looked up to see another guest at the door. A few years older than Meg, she was strikingly lovely, with the blue eyes and fair brows of a natural blonde. She was also beautifully gowned, but there was a slackness to her posture as she leaned against the door frame.

"Sorry to disturb you," the woman said, "but I'm peris.h.i.+ng of curiosity. Do you mind if I lie down?" Not waiting for an answer, she moved into the room, swaying. Fearing the woman was about to fall, Meg jumped to her feet and caught her arm, guiding her to the bed and helping her to lie down.

"Too much champagne," the woman said apologetically. "I thought it best to come up here and rest until my head clears. Then I saw you. You've probably forgotten, but I'm Lady Arden. We met earlier."