Bewitched (12 page)

And pretty it was! It was papered in patterns of rose and darker red, and furnished with delicate cherrywood furniture. Cream-colored drapes framed the window, and the whiteness of the chimneypiece and brass bed lent the room a fresh, friendly note.

The housekeeper showed Amy the door to the adjoining dressing room, where two maids were busy unpacking her trunks. “Rosie”—one of the girls curtsied—“will be assisting you during your stay. If you tell her which dress you wish to wear for dinner tonight, she will have it ready for you at the end of the afternoon.”

Amy chose a dress, then went back into the bedroom, where she left her pelisse and bonnet lying on a chair. On the washstand a jug of warm water stood already waiting, and she filled the china bowl to quickly wash her face and hands.

She brushed over her dress, deemed herself presentable, and went to Isabella’s room. From there a footman took the two young women to the South Drawing Room in the back wing of Rawdon Park, where the family had assembled. The sun fell through the large, high windows and lent the room, done in shades of peach and cream, a warm glow. It sparked a fiery gleam in Sebastian’s hair, who sat on one of the large sofas, his lap a throne for his little niece. Yet as he caught sight of Amy, he stood.

“Here they are.” A smile lit his face as he spoke, and Amy felt an answering smile lift the corners of her mouth. He held out a hand and, reaching for it, she let him draw her to his side. “My dear.” Tenderness softened the sharp angles of his face as he raised her hand to press a kiss onto her knuckles.

His warm breath whispering over her skin made her toes curl. Amy lost herself in the stormy blue-gray of his eyes. Her heart was beating madly, so loud he must surely hear it, so strong he must feel it pulsing in her fingertips. Would it always be like this? One look, and she was quivering inside. One touch, and her bones were melting.

The sound of somebody clearing his throat—noisily—brought her back to her senses. Her cheeks flamed. Heavens! What must his family think? For the first time Amy regretted her unconventional upbringing. She really must remember that she was now staying at the home of an earl, and hence behave with proper decorum! Hastily, she stepped back from Sebastian, but didn’t get very far because he was still holding fast to her hand.

“Sebastian!” she whispered urgently.

“
My
unco!” a little-girlish voice growled beside her, and the next moment the tiny Lady Annalea Stapleton stepped in a rather unladylike manner on Amy’s foot. Hard.

“Ouch!” Amy winced.

The little girl glared at her. “My unco!”

“Annie!” The tender expression was wiped off Sebastian’s face. He glowered at his niece.

“Annalea!” A slender woman hastened to their side and took the little girl’s hand. “You will apologize to Miss Bourne immediately”

Mutinously, Annie pressed her lips together and shook her head.

“Annie!”

“
My
unco,” the girl muttered darkly.

The newcomer raised her head to give Amy an apologetic look. “I am appalled at my daughter’s behavior. I hope you will forgive this atrocious lack of manners.” Her curly black hair was done in a simple but beautiful Greek style. Her dress was equally simple but elegant, and the green of the material perfectly matched the green of her eyes. The Countess of Rawdon was indeed a striking woman.

Amy wriggled her foot and tried to ignore the painful throbbing. “It is quite all right.” She forced a smile, then made the mistake of looking down at the belligerent Lady Annalea. The little girl regarded her as if Amy were the spawn of evil.

Behind Amy, Isabella gave one of her trilling little laughs. “What a… lively child!”

Annie directed her scowl at Isabella and stuck out her tongue at her.

Her mother clapped her shoulders in admonishment. “I have seen that, young lady. Barry, would you please escort Lady Annalea back to the nursery?”

“Nooooooo!”

“Of course, my lady.” A footman stepped forward to take Lady Annalea out of the room. In the end, though, he had to tuck her under his arm, because not only was she screaming blue murder, but she also tried to wriggle away. The two boys were sent out with her, presumably to take their luncheon in the nursery.

“Heavens.” Lady Rawdon sighed as the door closed behind the footman and her noisy offspring. She turned to Amy. “I am so terribly sorry, Miss Bourne. I hope Annalea did not cause you great harm.”

“Not at all, my lady.” Amy opted for a cheerful note, since poor Lady Rawdon was clearly mortified. “I have grown up with seven cousins, so I am quite sturdy, I assure you.”

Isabella sniffed. Which was only to be expected, of course. Why the Benthams had insisted on sending their daughter to accompany her, or why Sebastian had invited her in the first place, was really quite beyond Amy. He couldn’t possibly think they were fast friends, could he?

Sebastian touched her arm. “Are you sure you are all right?”

He looked adoring when he was worried, she found, the sprinkle of freckles on his nose a sweet contrast to his earnest expression. To forgive his lapse of judgment in inviting Isabella was a simple thing, and this time she didn’t have to force the smile that curved her lips. “Quite.”

He frowned. “I have never seen Annie behave in quite such a fashion.”

“That, my dear son, is because you have never brought home a fiancée before,” said a dry female voice behind them. “Now, will somebody be so good as to do the introductions?”

“Of course.” Sebastian took Amy’s hand and led her to the second sofa, where an older woman and man sat side by side. “Mother, may I introduce Miss Amelia Bourne? Miss Bourne, my mother, the Dowager Countess of Rawdon.”

The older Lady Rawdon was surely in her early sixties, yet only few lines showed in her face. Instead of a lacy mob cap or coronet, she wore her dark hair dressed high, with a fillet of twisted satin and pearls wound around her head.

“How do you do?” Amy made a small curtsy. It was rather intriguing, she mused, that Sebastian should be the only redhead in his family. How could that be? Or had his mother’s hair once been red and she was dying it dark only now? But no, her complexion was much rosier than one was wont to see in red-haired people. A most curious puzzle indeed!

A smile played around the dowager countess’s lips as she said, “So, this is the young woman who managed to catch my elusive younger son. What a pleasure to meet you at last, my child.” Her eyes sparkled. “We were intrigued, to say the least, when we heard of your engagement.” Her smile became a grin. “You did well, Sebastian.”

“
Mother
!” he groaned.

“Fiddle-faddle, ‘Mother.’ I am only telling the truth.” She looked past Amy. “And who might this young woman be?”

Sebastian hurried to introduce Isabella, then properly introduced them both to the Countess of Rawdon, and finally to the tall, lean gentleman who had sat next to the dowager countess and had risen upon their entry. Wisps of white hair floated around his head, and his eyes disappeared behind sparkling round spectacles. He looked like a friendly—if nearsighted—elderly lion. One who wore an embroidered waistcoat.

“Admiral Pickering delighted in terrorizing Bony’s fleet,” Sebastian said. “However, he retired after the war and found himself a snug little house in Brighton, did you not, Admiral?”

“Indeed, I did.” The other man’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “After having spent most of my life
on
the water, I now want to spend the rest of it at least
at
the water. And enjoying the theatrical performances of the London companies on tour.”

Sebastian’s lips twitched. “Not to forget Rhinelandish wine. Have you brought a box for Christmas?”

The admiral chuckled. “I hear they call you the Fox in London.”

Oh yes, that lovely nickname of his she had heard mentioned in the ballrooms and drawing rooms of the
bon ton
. Though of course, Amy had never heard anybody calling him that to his face. Whom did he consider a close enough acquaintance to allow them such an intimacy? she wondered. How extraordinary vexing when she yearned to know him inside out, to learn all his secrets, great and small, be his confidante, his best friend. After all, he was her fiancé.

Her fiancé…
At the mere thought, a warm glow filled Amy.
Mine. Mine to love and cherish
. How utterly wonderful it would be to finally bear his name, be his wife and companion!

Sebastian’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Some do indeed.”

“I wonder why, eh?” the Admiral said mildly.

At this Sebastian laughed out loud. “I haven’t got the foggiest.”

“My dear Miss Bourne.” Admiral Pickering turned to Amy. “You have to keep an eye on this gentleman. He is a rather sly young fellow indeed.”

“Indeed. And one who may tell Ramtop that we are now ready for the luncheon,” the dowager countess cut in.

Sebastian grinned. “Yes, Mother.” Softly whistling, he went to ring for the butler.

His mother stared after him, shaking her head. “Insolent cub,” she muttered before she turned to Amy, smiling. “Miss Bourne, you must sit with me during the meal. I want to know
everything
about this young woman who has so enchanted my son.”

“It would be my pleasure, my lady.” Yet dismay sliced through Amy as she replied.
She can’t want to know everything
, Amy thought.
No, surely not everything
.

Her gaze was drawn to Sebastian, and her stomach lurched. What would he say, what would his family say when they finally found out about the magic? She had been so happy these past few weeks, that for the most part she had simply forgotten—

The butler arrived. Sebastian spoke to him, then a smile creased his face. Oh, dear heavens, he was the handsomest of men when he smiled! Her moment of apprehension passed. All would be fine. How could it not when she was incandescently in love with him?

He turned and announced, “It seems that we can proceed to the dining room if we so wish.”

As luncheon was a much less formal affair than dinner, they went to the dining room in a hurly-burly fashion as a cheerful, chattering cluster. It allowed Amy to sidle up to Sebastian.

His eyes lit, and he offered her his arm. “How do you like the Stapleton brood so far?” he whispered. “Have they already frightened you witless?”

Amy had to bite her lip to smother a giggle. “Have you just called your family a brood? Admiral Pickering was right: you
are
a sly fellow.” She couldn’t believe that only moments ago she had been pestered by worries. Worries? What fudge!

He arched a brow. “You mean, you didn’t know about my slyness before?”

“I had an inkling.” Her heart light, she pressed his arm a little closer against her. The brush of it against the side of her breast sent a secret thrill through her. A little breathless, she looked up at him. “Tell me about that nickname of yours.”

“Fox?”

“Who calls you that?”
Bergamot
, she thought inconsequentially.
He smells of bergamot
. The realization momentarily distracted her.

He shrugged. “My friends do.”

A speck of cinnamon dust… Her eyes flicked back to his.
Fox
. With such vibrantly colored hair, the name fitted him most perfectly.
Better Fox than… what?
A memory teased. Amy shook her head. She really must ask him about being the only redhead in the family, but that would wait for later. Her lips curved. “The name suits you,” she said softly. And, “May I call you that, too?”

“You?” The tender expression that came over his face was almost too much to bear. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t you know? You may call me anything you like.”

Her breath caught, and her glance slid from his, while she valiantly tried to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. Oh, how much she loved him! So much that it pierced her heart.

She pressed Sebastian’s—
Fox’s
arm. Blinking rapidly, she fought against the tears that welled up in her eyes. Happy tears.

Oh yes, she thought. All would be fine. For how could it not be? They would share their secrets and laugh about them together. Only—she couldn’t yet tell him of the magic. Not just now. How strange this would be, to reveal the secret of her family to an outsider when it had been so well guarded as long as she could remember. But soon, soon she would tell him. He would be intrigued, and she would be so extraordinarily pleased to show him all the wonders and marvels of the magic. Explain to him everything about this special talent, how the magic flowed inside you and you had to learn how to harness it in order to use it. Learn spells and perfect rituals—and duck your head if a spell went awry. The thought made her smile. Yes, all would be fine. Better than fine, even: a dream come true.

~*~

Later in the afternoon, the mist lifted and Fox took Amy on a walk in the park. Autumn had rendered the gardens a world of brown and gray. Gray, the sky. Gray, the gravel that crunched under their feet. Shades of brownish gray, the bare branches of trees whispering softly among themselves. And in between, the graceful, stony curves of statues—lion and griffin, the head of a unicorn in a maiden’s lap, and the chubby charm of putti peeking through the bushes or frolicking around on small pedestals.

He wanted to show her all of it, all the places of his boyhood and youth. How strange it was: as a boy he had never seemed to fit. It was Richard who had been born with an understanding of the land—and small wonder: he had been born and bred to it.
Blood will always show
, Fox heard the voice of the old earl. In contrast to his brother, Fox had never felt comfortable under the wide, wide arch of the Fenland sky, which would turn into a dense expanse of blackness in winter nights, so heavy you feared it might crush you while you slept. And the fog—oh, that was surely the most awful thing about the Fens. Slithering across the land, the fog turned everything insubstantial. Even the sturdiest buildings became as ephemeral as shadows. It settled on the land like a shroud, oppressing all living things, weighing down a man’s mind.

In all the years Fox had lived in Town, the yellow London fog had never felt as menacing. But then it didn’t have such vast spaces to fill as the fog in the Fens. Here it seemed to swallow up the dark ground, while the distant gurgle of water served as a sharp reminder of the times when the sea and the rivers conspired to flood the land. They had drowned plant and animal and man before, and would do so again, despite all efforts to tame the waters.