A Lady And Her Magic (17 page)

“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.

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.” She 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.

What about Claire? She didn’t mention Claire.

A quick rap at the door grabbed her attention. The door opened a crack, and a lovely young woman entered the room. “I just couldn’t wait any longer,” she said, a grin upon her face. Lady Ramsdale sighed, smiled, and beckoned her closer. “Sophia, this is Rose. Rose is my youngest daughter.” Lady Ramsdale reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind the girl’s ear. It was pointed, just like hers. “She’s fae, too. But I finally found a way to keep one of my children.”

“You have more children.” Sophia suddenly felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest. She’d let the Trusted Few take three of her children. And had kept the fourth. “Did you just try harder with the fourth one?”

Lady Ramsdale’s brows knit. “Fourth?” She shook her head as though to clear it. “I have two daughters and a son of this world. One of my daughters, Rose, was born fae. The other two were not. The two who were not born fae—there was never any question about them remaining with me. The fae didn’t want them. They would have wanted Rose. They would have taken her from me. But something I did worked with this one. I don’t know why.” She stroked a hand down Rose’s hair. “It’s not her fault she was allowed to stay with me,” she said succinctly, as though warning Sophia to treat her sister with kindness.

Of course, it wasn’t the girl’s fault she was the one her parents had kept.

Sophia rubbed at her temples. A dull thump began behind her brows.

“I know this is difficult for you,” her mother said. “It’s a lot to take in at once.”

“I need some time to digest all of this.” Sophia shoved the counterpane back and got to her feet. “I’d like to talk to the Duke of Robinsworth. If he’s still here, as you mentioned.”

Her mother’s eyes softened. “Of course, you would. Your head must be spinning with all this new information.”

She had no idea.

***

Ashley pulled his watch fob from his inner pocket by its golden chain and flipped it open. He’d been up all night, waiting for Sophia to wake. But within the room, all had been quiet since Lady Ramsdale had sent everyone else to their chambers for rest several hours before. As the clock struck six, he heard low mumbling from within the room.

He got to his feet and crept closer to the door. He desperately wanted to know what was going on inside that room. He yawned into his cupped hand. Despite the fact that a butler had brought him a chair and tea during the night, he’d been waiting diligently for hours. Perhaps now he would get some answers.

“I didn’t know dukes listened at keyholes,” a voice chirped from beside him. Ashley looked down into hazel eyes much like Sophia’s. The girl’s unbound hair had the same curl but was much lighter, more like Lord Ramsdale’s.

Ashley inclined his head at her. “In my experience, dukes can do whatever they please, within reason.” He probably sounded like a sanctimonious arse, but he didn’t care.

The girl giggled. Then she rapped lightly on the door and slipped inside. More conversation happened for a moment and then she left the room, with Lady Ramsdale at her side. The lady stopped in front of him. “She’s asking for you.”

Ashley’s heart leapt.

“This is a lot for her to absorb in a very short time. I told her things I didn’t even remember until I saw her.” She looked at him closely. “How do you feel about my daughter?”

“Pardon me, my lady, but I think I should discuss that with your daughter before I discuss it with you.” He adopted his most imperious duke’s scowl. She didn’t seem intimidated. Perhaps Sophia had learned her impertinence from her mother.

Her eyes twinkled. “Yes, I believe you should.” She stepped to the side and motioned him into the room.

He entered to find Sophia staring out the window, wearing a dressing gown with the frilly white collar of her nightrail peeping from the neckline. “I’m a little underdressed,” she said, holding her hands out to the sides.

He did the same. “Perhaps it’s me who’s overdressed.” He smiled at her. “Are you all right?”

Suddenly, she rushed forward and hurled herself into his arms. He caught her to him and let her embrace him tightly as sobs wracked her body. His heart broke for her, yet he still held her close to his heart and let her vent her frustrations, her anger. He just let her cry. When she settled a bit, he carried her over to a chair and settled into it and arranged her in his lap so that her head rested on his shoulder.

“Feel better?” he asked as he brushed her hair from her eyes.

“No. Not really.” She sniffed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She pointed to a silver casket that rested on the bed. “I suppose the answers are in that box.”

Ashley didn’t fully understand. Or understand at all.

She went on to explain. “It contains my mother’s memories. Apparently, when they took me from her, they took her memory of me as well.”

“When who took you?”

“The Trusted Few.” He must have looked confused because she continued. “The governing body of my world.” Her eyes danced from his mouth to his lips to his chin. “You know I’m not of this world.”

“I’m beginning to understand that. But it scares the hell out of me,” he admitted.

“Me, too,” she said on a heavy exhale. Then she got up and retrieved the casket. “Open it with me?”

He would do anything she asked of him. “Of course.”

She flicked the lid with her thumb and it flew open, as though some force inside was clambering to get out. Glitter shimmered and shone in the air until it began to take shape, and then, like the golden pictures she’d played over the boys’ heads in the village, it took the shape of shadowy, shimmery people who acted out the most prominent of her mother’s memories. But these pictures were accompanied by emotions. Emotions so strong they nearly stole Ashley’s breath. Regret. Pain. Longing. Agony. All tempered by love, compassion, and caring. He reached for Sophia’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

Her mouth fell open as the truth became known to her, and a tear ran down her cheek. But a smile was also tugging at her lips, and she looked at him, her eyes shimmering almost as much as the glittery pictures did. “I never would have dreamed…”

“Nor would I.” Was he dreaming? Would he wake from this and find it a figment of his imagination? Machinations of too much time spent alone? He looked down at her. She still clutched tightly to his hand. “Does this resolve things for you?”

She snorted. “Not by half.”

“Good, because I am mightily confused,” he admitted.

“I don’t know what happens next,” she said, and he wanted to draw her to him and protect her with a sword and shield from all the things that were coming at her. But he didn’t have either. Nor would she welcome his interference.

The glitter began to dissipate from the air, shooting like stars flying across the sky and then dissolving like the morning dew on his garden.

He thought about it a moment. “Come back to the Hall with me. Take some time to absorb it all. To come to terms with it.”

“I’m not certain that’s a good idea,” she said, and he could tell she wasn’t sold on the idea.

His heart sank. “Marry me and then come home with me.”

She shook her head and the corners of her mouth turned down. “I cannot.” That was all she said. Just that she could not. She could if she wanted to. Perhaps she just didn’t want to. Didn’t want to enough. He tried to come up with a reason for her to leave the family she’d never known. It was selfish of him, he knew, but he wanted her. He needed her. If only for a few days.

“I have something that will make you change your mind.” He adjusted the fit of his rumpled coat and steeled himself. “I have someone who belongs to you within my walls.”

She startled. “Claire?” she asked. “Claire can take care of herself.”

Who the devil was Claire? “No. Who is Claire?”

Her brows knit together. “Then who?”

“You will have to visit me to find out. But I will tell you that this person will be incredibly happy when you come to stake your claim.”

“Stake my claim?” She looked confused. And a little vexed.

“You will want what I have.”

“Did I forget my dust?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “With all the dust at my estate, I doubt I would notice any you left behind.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But no, it’s living and breathing. A little fellow about two feet tall.”