Guardian - Stolen Magic Part 7

"Failed" was such a mild word to describe the living h.e.l.l that was his parents' union. "No, but you can't blame me for being wary. I think that my cousin and his boys would be worthy heirs to the Falconer t.i.tle if I leave no son to inherit."

"Lawrence is a fine man but he hasn't half your power, and his sons don't, either. In your generation, only you have the full Malmain gift. The t.i.tle is of no consequence, but the Families need you to pa.s.s on your power."

"There is never a guarantee that children will match their parents' abilities."

"True, but mating powerful mages does improve the odds." She shook her head. "We're wandering from the subject. I wasn't merely matchmaking when I suggested the two of you wed, Simon. Drayton is truly dangerous. I sense that his goal is one that can change the course of British history. Perhaps the world." Her quiet voice was chilling.

Simon went still as her words resonated with the hammer impact of truth. "Do you have some sense of what he plans?"

She sighed. "Looking at the future is like standing on a hill and peering at a foggy landscape. A few scattered hilltops can be seen thrusting from the mist, and perhaps some shadowy shapes are dimly visible. When I look at Drayton, I see the image of a lever and fulcrum. He wants to apply leverage that will s.h.i.+ft the world."

Simon considered interpretations. "That sounds like a goal greater than personal power. Surely it must be political. As part of the government, he is in a position to affect great changes. A war? An a.s.sa.s.sination?"

She shook her head. "There is an . . . unexpected quality to what he wants. So unexpected that I can't even guess. I wish I could tell you more."

"Perhaps it will come in time." He would ponder the question himself. Most Guardians had some sense of possible futures and occasionally flashes of true knowledge, but accurate foretelling was rare.

Lady Bethany toyed with the wedding band she still wore despite years of widowhood. "I feel that you and Meg must work together to thwart Drayton's aims, but quite apart from that, I believe that you are meant to be with each other."

His gaze sharpened. "The way you thought Duncan and Gwynne belonged together? They're happy now, but getting there was the very devil, and they started out better suited than Meg and me."

"In worldly terms they suited, but magically speaking they appeared to be badly mismatched." Lady Beth spread her hands. "Every marriage is unique. You and Meg have much to offer each other. Think about that."

The tender warmth of Meg's essence echoed in his mind. Thinking about marrying her would be easy.

It would be much harder not to think about it.

Meg stalked from the gardens into the fields beyond. When she saw horses in a pasture, she climbed onto the fence and mentally tested their natures. She had always done this, she realized, but never with such consciousness or depth. Horses were soothingly simple compared to humans.

On impulse, she called a sweet-natured chestnut mare and slid onto the horse's back from the fence. As she hitched her skirts above her knee, the mare danced with pleasure. "Shall we have a good gallop, sweeting?"

Knowing the mare wanted to run, she used her mind to spur them across the field. When they reached the far fence, the mare soared over, her mane whipping Meg's face. Meg had never felt so much at one with her mount. Why had she bothered with bridle and saddle all these years when she could control a horse with only her mind?

Spirits rising, she spent the day exploring the rolling hills of White Manor on horseback. This time alone in nature was like the best part of life at Drayton Castle, when she was free to wander as she chose. By the time she returned to the house, it was near the dinner hour and she had decided on her course of action.

A bath and another handsome gown awaited. Lady Bethany must have a granddaughter very close to Meg's size. The young maid, Nell, appeared and helped her dress and style her hair. Before leaving, the girl said, "Her ladys.h.i.+p sent these for you to wear if you like, miss." She drew a box containing a delicate garnet necklace and matching earrings from her ap.r.o.n pocket.

"How lovely!" The garnets would complement the red in the floral print of her gown. Meg fastened the necklace around her neck. "I can't wear the earrings, though. My ears have never been pierced."

"I can pierce them for you, miss."

"Thank you, Nell," Meg said gratefully. "Tomorrow would be a good time."

She checked her appearance. Anyone who didn't know better would think she was well bred. Girding herself, she headed down to the small salon, where Nell said family and guests gathered before dinner. She hoped Lord Falconer and Lady Bethany wouldn't be too angry with her for running away from the morning's conversation.

She needn't have worried. The two of them were chatting easily, Falconer braced by the mantel, while her ladys.h.i.+p relaxed on the sofa. Lady Bethany looked up at Meg's entrance. "Good evening, my dear. You look very fine. Did you have a pleasant day?"

Relieved, Meg said, "Very. It was calming to explore the estate."

Falconer asked, "Would you like some sherry?"

She accepted but eyed the stemmed gla.s.s warily. "I don't know if I like sherry."

"There's only one way to find out. Be careful, though. It's much stronger than ale or small beer." His blue eyes were warm. Not like a lover's, but friendly.

She sipped at the wine and managed not to sputter at its strength. After a second sip, she decided she liked the sweet, nutty flavor. Even a small amount made her feel more relaxed. "I've made up my mind. I won't marry you, Lord Falconer, but if you and Lady Bethany wish it, I will pretend to be your wife for as long as is needful to stop Lord Drayton from his wickedness. After I leave London, you can tell people that I died in the country of a fever or in childbirth. That will leave both of us free."

After a moment of shock, Falconer said caustically, "Should I mourn your death greatly? Or shall I act greatly relieved to be free of you?"

Meg felt his anger with her inner senses more than from his tone. Uneasily she recognized that she was asking him and Lady Bethany to lie to everyone they knew. "I'm sorry. I don't like the dishonesty, but it would keep the two of us together in a way that isn't permanent."

"You can't appear in society as Simon's wife, then show up again later as a single woman," Lady Bethany pointed out. "People would be bound to notice."

"I have no desire to return to London society after this affair is settled." Meg's long ride had clarified her thinking. "My greatest wish is to locate my family. I will put this aside for now, but as soon as my role has been played, I will leave London. I think my family must be somewhere in the border country between England and Wales, and I will look as long as I must to find them."

"What if you have no family?" Falconer asked quietly.

"I have to believe that somewhere people missed me when I was gone, and will be happy to have me back." Meg looked away, ashamed of the quaver in her voice.

"There are Guardians who will be able to help in your quest," Falconer said, tactfully ignoring her distress. "I might be able to help, myself. I'm a good finder."

She supposed that was part of being a hunter and enforcer. If he would turn his formidable talents toward looking for her family, she would have a chance of success. But that must wait. "If you don't want me to pretend to be your wife, we could have a false betrothal and break it later."

"As Simon's betrothed, you couldn't live under the same roof." Lady Bethany frowned. "Marriage is the only solution."

"No!" Anger burned through Meg and exploded into words. "I have been Lord Drayton's puppet for half my life. I will not be yours merely because you treat me more kindly than he did!"

A volatile mix of energies crackled through the room too swiftly for her to a.n.a.lyze them, and the two Guardians stared at Meg as if she had turned into a unicorn herself. She clamped a hand over her mouth, shocked by her own rage.

After a charged silence, Lord Falconer said, "Meg is correct, Lady Beth. The fact that our intentions are honorable does not give us the right to coerce her."

After a moment, the older woman nodded. "I'm sorry, Meg. Coercion was not my intention, but that was the effect." A faint smile curved her lips. "I would rather not stir your temper again." She gestured at the vase on the table beside her. The lilac stems cl.u.s.tered there had withered to brown husks.

Unnerved, Meg touched one of the dry flowers. Brittle blossoms fell to the tabletop. "Did I do that?"

"Most of it," Falconer replied. "The s.h.i.+elds Lady Beth and I pulled up for protection didn't help. When you lost your temper, you blasted energy in all directions." His gaze rested on the dead lilacs. "The sooner we begin your education, the better. Now that Drayton's spell has been lifted, your emotions have come alive, and that has . . . consequences."

"Indeed." Lady Bethany eyed the lilacs briefly before s.h.i.+fting her attention to Meg. "If you refuse to have a real marriage, I suppose we must settle for a pretend one."

"Either that or let me be a servant." Though ashamed of her loss of control, Meg wasn't sorry that they had given up the idea of her wedding Falconer.

"A pretend marriage is the best of a poor set of choices." The earl's eyes narrowed as he studied Meg's face. "We can solve the problem of her reappearing later as a single woman by altering her appearance. Drayton changed her drastically, but something much subtler will do. If you ever choose to return to society, you can do so with your natural appearance and claim to be my late wife's younger sister. You would need another Christian name, but that's a minor matter."

Gaze intense, he touched her cheekbone. She felt a tingle of what she now recognized as magic. Turning to a mirror on the opposite wall, she frowned at what she saw. It was hard to define how he had changed her appearance. Perhaps her features were a bit more regular and her eyes larger, but if so, the differences were small.

Yet she no longer looked like herself. She hated that, even though he had made her more attractive. "Falsifying myself makes no sense when I am trying to discover who I really am. Better that I use my real face and voice now. There will be time enough to change my appearance if I ever decide to return to London."

"Very well, if that is your preference." He glanced at Lady Bethany. "Are we all in agreement? Meg shall live with me at Falconer House and we shall pretend to be happy newlyweds while we seek to discover Drayton's goal, then frustrate him in achieving it. When that is accomplished, Meg is free to leave London, and we will do our best to help her find her family."

"We shall have to agree on a story of how you two met and married," Lady Bethany observed. "Perhaps you met some years ago, and when you met again here at White Manor, you were instantly smitten. If so, you must discuss all the details of how and where. What you wore on your wedding day, Meg. Simon, you must attempt to look at least a little besotted-it's expected of newlyweds."

He nodded, unenthusiastic but resigned. "We can work out our stories over the next few days, before we go to London."

The cool discussion of deception made Meg uncomfortable, but she had no choice. She owed her companions a great deal and she was glad to do what she could to repay the debt, as long as marriage wasn't required. "I hope that I shall also receive instruction in the uses of magical power."

"That goes without saying. You will have your choice of the best teachers of the Families." Falconer took her hand, bowing over it with consummate grace. "May we have a fulfilling and happy false marriage, my dear Meg."

She managed to smile and reply lightly, and hoped that she would not regret turning down the opportunity to be truly his wife.

CHAPTER TEN.

Meg stared out the carriage window, fascinated and repulsed by the teeming, filthy, smelly London streets. "I didn't know there were so many people in all of England!" She watched as two carts filled with produce got their wheels locked together. The drivers vaulted out and started screaming at each other. As the carriage continued along the cobblestone street, a vendor grinned and waved a piece of gingerbread at her. Through the gla.s.s, she could hear the woman call, "Fresh hot gingerbread for my lady!"

The carriage pa.s.sed a small crowd that had formed around a juggler who was keeping five knives in the air. It had rained earlier, and filthy water ran down the gutters. Well-dressed matrons picked their way across the street wearing wooden pattens that kept them above the worst of the muck.

As Meg stared at the continually changing scenes, Falconer took her hand. "Are you using your s.h.i.+elds? Being amidst so many people is an immense mental a.s.sault."

Meg felt cool, soothing energy flow from him to her. "I became careless about my s.h.i.+elding," she admitted as she corrected the lapse. "How do all these people endure being right on top of each other?"

"Habit," he said succinctly. "I think London is proof that most people have at least a touch of power. True Londoners use that power to block out the worst of the tumult, and feel bored and ill-used if forced to visit the country."

Meg laughed. "Now I understand why most Guardians spend a good deal of time in the country. It must be hard to do magic in such a clamor of energies."

"One becomes accustomed, but it is an adjustment every time I return to the city," Falconer admitted. "Luckily, my house is in Mayfair, which is rather quieter."

To Meg's relief, he was right. After her raucous introduction to the city, the streets became wider and quieter, the houses larger and more imposing, until eventually they pulled up in front of a grand mansion on a square. Falconer stepped from the mud-splattered coach and offered Meg his hand. "Welcome to your new home, my lady."

Meg took his hand and climbed down to the cobblestone street. Despite the high-intensity education about London social life she had received in the last several days, she was tempted to turn and bolt. "Falconer House is very grand," she ventured.

"Larger than necessary, but it's been in the family for some time so I suppose I must keep it." He tucked her hand in his elbow and led her up the stairs to the house. "I shall be glad to put off borrowed clothing and wear my own."

Meg glanced down at her handsome traveling gown. She would have to offer deep apologies if ever she met the granddaughter whose wardrobe she had pillaged. "I would like that, too."

"Shall I have a mantua-maker attend you here, or would you rather go out to a salon for fittings and fabric selections? You need a wardrobe worthy of a countess."

"That will cost you a fortune."

"I have a fortune. Several of them, in fact," he said, amused. "You must dress the part, Meg, or it will reflect badly on me."

She sighed. "Very well, but no more fittings and garments than necessary. I suppose it will be easier to have the seamstress come here, but I do need to go out regularly. Can I ride in London?"

"There are several parks that are good for riding, but you must always be accompanied by me or a groom."

She started to protest, then subsided. "I suppose I have no choice but to live in this cage I've agreed to."

"There is always a choice, Meg," he said seriously. "Sometimes the choices are poor, but there is always more than one way to proceed. At least in this case, you won't have to pretend to be a countess for long."

"How long?" she asked. "Weeks? Months? Years?"

"Weeks or months, perhaps. Not years."

Before Meg could reply, the great double doors swung open to reveal a dramatic foyer. Once more she suppressed an urge to bolt. Falconer had been born to such wealth. Meg hadn't, of that she was sure.

The liveried and powdered servant who had opened the doors bowed deeply. "Welcome home, my lord. There was some concern about the delay in your return." The man darted a curious glance at Meg.

"I had a good reason, Hardwick. Please summon the rest of the staff to meet the new Lady Falconer." Falconer bestowed a fond smile on Meg.

Hardwick couldn't quite conceal his surprise, though he did his best. "It will be my pleasure." He bowed again, this time to Meg, then left to summon the staff.

"This won't take long." Falconer loosened Meg's grip on his arm. "I'm sure the blood will start flowing again soon."

She smiled wryly. "It's hard to relax knowing I don't belong here, my lord."

He regarded her with his penetrating blue eyes. "Perhaps it would help if you call me Simon, at least when the situation is informal. Then you can forget that I'm a lord."

His suggestion made sense. "Very well . . . Simon."

A silvery gray hound came racing into the hall, toenails scratching frantically. He was about to throw himself on his master when Falconer said, "Down, Otto."

Quivering with excitement, the dog sat, its gaze fixed on Falconer, who bent to ruffle the long ears. "Sorry to be away so long, old fellow. Meet your new mistress. Meg, Otto. Otto, Meg."

She found herself regarded by huge, spookily intelligent eyes. The hound solemnly offered her a paw. "The pleasure is mine, Otto," she said as she shook the paw, then scratched the handsome head.

"He'l remember and defend you now," Falconer remarked.

The servants began to a.s.semble, bright-eyed with curiosity about Falconer's new "wife." Scullery maids and chambermaids. A grand cook, an even grander valet. Footmen, hall boys, and so many others that Meg lost track of the names. And this was only one of Falconer's residences! She did make a special note of Falconer's secretary, Jack Landon, a quiet young man who was also a Guardian. He ran the household, and as soon as possible, she would beg him to continue doing so.

Falconer-Simon-himself escorted her to her new rooms, Otto pattering behind them. Not only did she have a magnificent bedroom, but also a sitting room and a dressing room. "I shall get lost in here." She removed her bonnet and rubbed tiredly at her temples.

"What do you think of London?"

She grimaced. "Mad. Beautiful and terrifying. Full of raw, brawling life. I couldn't understand the cries of most of the street vendors. It's like a new language."

"It won't take long for your s.h.i.+elds to strengthen so that you'l only notice the voice of the city if you deliberately listen to it."

"I hope you're right. At the moment, I feel as if a hive of insects is buzzing in my head."

"Why not rest through the afternoon," he suggested. "There will be a mound of urgent business on my desk, so I'l busy myself with that until we dine."

"Very well. Then perhaps I'l explore the house."

He smiled. "Just pull a bell rope if you get lost. Until later, my lady." Otto beside him, he withdrew.