A Most Inconvenient Wish

A Lady's Wish Series by Eileen Richards

 

 

 

 

A Most Inconvenient Wish

A Lady's Wish

Eileen Richards

LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Being the last book, this one was tough to write. Thank you to Erica Monroe, Morgan Eden, Darla Kraft, and Christy Carlyle for the critiques and for talking me off the ledge time and time again.

 

Thank you to Martin for not losing it with a rookie. For Jessica for being there for me when I needed you.

 

Thank you to Rick for keeping my world together when the words flowed and taking me out on the lake for a break when they didn't.

 

Finally, thank you to my readers. I was terrified to send my stories about three sisters into the world. Your enjoyment of my little fairy stories makes it all worthwhile. Thank you for your kindness and acceptance.

A
t no time in her life did Sophia Townsend ever picture herself standing at the bottom of the blasted Fairy Steps with the need to make a wish. She put her hands on her hips and examined the uneven stone formations that towered before her. The steps were much steeper than she remembered. It was a good thing she'd worn her sturdiest boots for the task. She swatted at the stupid feathers on her new bonnet. The breeze kept blowing them into her face. Sophia pondered removing it for a moment but changed her mind. If she encountered someone from the village, it wouldn't do to look like a total ragamuffin. She was already at risk of looking like a total fool for attempting to climb the Fairy Steps.

Situated off the lane to the Lodge, the home of her married sister Anne, these stupid steps had been the bane of Sophia's existence for four years. Both of her sisters swore that the magic of a fairy wish had helped them find their husbands. They were both happily married. And Sophia was
not
.

Sophia was no believer in love and happily ever after. She was not so nonsensical as to believe that a wish could have that much power, despite the happy marriages of her sisters. Marrying was what young ladies did. Young men pursued the church or the military if they were poor. A young lady married. It would allow her to improve her status. She could have children, pin money for shopping, and her own servants. She could have a life in London Society, with parties and balls.

It was too bad marriage had to come with a husband.

Her looks had allowed her four Seasons in London, her favorite place. It had granted her a popularity she'd never have in Beetham. Sophia had enjoyed her popularity in Town. She'd danced most dances and been well received in Society. She had gentlemen callers equipped with gifts of flowers and sweets. She'd been on drives in Hyde Park. However, none of the calls ever ended in a proposal that she could agree to.

Society had labeled her cold, aloof, haughty. Why couldn't they find another word for it? Unfortunately, being labeled such was like waving a red flag in front of the male population of London. Why did men have to try to kiss her in dark, close spaces? Those places terrified her.

It wasn't their fault. Most of them were very nice gentlemen. She couldn't help it that she was beautiful. Nor did she want to. Men seemed to think that if a woman was pretty, she gladly accepted the pawing, the groping, and the inappropriate comments. It was the price of being desired. Just like with the footman all those years ago, she knew exactly what they desired. She wasn't going to allow it. Not ever again.

Until she'd been introduced to the Earl of Bateman.

To her delight, the earl had shown so much interest in Sophia while they were in Town. He'd danced every waltz with her and always took the supper dance. He sent flowers. He took her for strolls in the park, where they could be seen by everyone. But Bateman never pressed her for a kiss. He never pressed her for anything. He'd been the perfect gentleman. The gossips were full of tittle-tattle about his impending proposal, but no proposal materialized and the gossips eventually turned on Sophia, much to her dismay.

Sophia had not suffered the disdain of Society in the four years she'd been in London. She'd taken great pains to make sure that she was all that was proper. No whisper of scandal, nothing that would give anyone a moment's concern, until Lord Bateman didn't propose. She didn't like the snickers of laughter behind the fans of the other ladies at the balls. She hated the cuts by the very same people who had hung on her every word just a week earlier because she was on Bateman's arm. Their cuts were like barbs in her skin.

She wanted to marry Lord Bateman. He treated her gently. He didn't try to paw her or kiss her in the dark. He liked to sit and talk. He didn't even seem to mind those long silences that were usually uncomfortable with other men. And so she found herself at the Fairy Steps. She would wish for Lord Bateman to propose to her. She would marry and have everything she wanted: pin money, several houses, and a life in London society on the arm of an earl. She would endure him until they had several children, and then he could happily find himself a mistress. She could tolerate the act at least enough times to get with child.

It was the perfect plan for the perfect life, the life Sophia dreamed of.

The alternative was not to be borne: to be left on the shelf, an old maid to be ridiculed. At twenty-six, Sophia felt as if she'd come to an impasse in her life. She either had to marry or be stuck in spinsterhood forever. Her popularity would shift as she aged. Already there were beautiful young ladies vying for the attentions of the gentlemen who formerly had sought her out. Sophia had no intention of allowing Society to force her to the wallflower wall with the rest of the spinsters. She looked horrible in caps.

Desperate times called for daring measures. Sophia eyed the gray steps as they towered before her. Moss and leaves covered the uneven stones. The wind blew across the steps with a low whine. She almost laughed at the theatrics of it all: the gusting wind, the darkening sky heavy with rain, the distant rumble of thunder. The stage was set for something dramatic, like a scene from the Minerva novels her sisters were always reading.

The steps were wider at the bottom, growing narrow as they wound toward the top of the stones. Sophia chewed her bottom lip, wondering if her hips would fit through the opening at the top. She wasn't nearly as thin as she used to be. Nor was she as thin as her sisters. She probably should have avoided eating so many of Cook's delicious apple tarts in the few weeks since returning to Beetham.

A gust of wind pushed at her, urging her forward. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Sophia placed her foot on the first step, then the next. The stones were dry, but the moss made them more slippery. She crept up the steps slowly, making sure her feet were steady before continuing. Her hands clutched the peach muslin of her dress to hold it out of the way and to keep from grabbing the sides. The urge to do so was so strong.

The gray walls closed in around her as she went up the stairs and she felt a pang of panic in the pit of her stomach. She fought for control as her skirts dislodged bits of moss and leaves. Pebbles made a pinging sound as they fell down behind her. Sophia closed her eyes and tightened her hands as she clutched her dress to keep from reaching out to steady herself. She could not quit now. She would not quit.

One step was a bit higher than the last and her foot missed the edge. She wobbled and squealed.

“Woman, what are you doing?” A deep voice, tinged with a Scottish burr, broke through the fear that was threatening to take hold of her.

Sophia cringed. It was the one man she could not manage to avoid, the man who had become her severest critic when watching her make a cake of herself. Ian McDonald had a talent for finding her at the most inopportune times. There was no going back now. She was over halfway there. She took another step and tipped backward. She stiffened her legs to steady herself. “I'm climbing the steps. What does it look like I'm doing?”

“Trying to get yourself injured or worse is more like it.”

She glanced behind her and found him standing at the bottom, his dark hair wild from the wind, his arms crossed in front of his massive chest. His jaw was set. His blue eyes glared at her from beneath strong brows and above his crooked nose. As if a glare was enough to stop her. She smiled sweetly at him and turned back to her task.

In the three years she'd known him, Mr. McDonald had taken great pleasure in teasing her. He drove her mad. She had no choice but to tolerate him. He was a good friend of the Matthewses and a frequent visitor in London and in Beetham. The son of a steward, he'd made a tidy fortune and was now accepted in Society, for the most part. Money seemed to fix everything.

Unfortunately, Mr. McDonald made her feel things she had no business feeling. She'd learned the painful lesson of falling in love with someone beneath her years ago. It was certainly not going to happen now.

“People have been climbing these steps for centuries. I'm sure it is perfectly safe.” She took another step and wobbled again. The stones were definitely getting more uneven. Sophia fought the urge to reach out and grasp the towering gray walls on either side of her for balance.

“Stay there. I'm coming to you,” he shouted.

Sophia took another step. There was no way she'd make a wish if Mr. McDonald caught up with her. She took another step, this time a bit faster in order to stay ahead of him.

“Sophia Townsend, stop now!”

“I'm fine, Mr. McDonald. I'm nearly there.” She placed her foot on another step, and then another, but her foot slipped. She swallowed a scream as stones slipped down the steps behind her.

“Damn it, woman, you're determined to get us both killed.”

Better dead than stuck on a path that led to being alone for the rest of her life. Sophia put her foot firmly on the next step. Excitement quickened her pace. Just two more steps. She could do this. She could make her wish. She nimbly took the last two steps, finally reaching the top. “There! I did it.”

Mr. McDonald was breathing heavily as he raced up the steps to her. “I could shake you.” He bent over his hands on his thighs. “You could have broken your pretty neck.”

“I told you I could do it. Did you doubt me? Of course you did, you always do.” She was sick of being underestimated by him—by everyone.

He glared at her. “That is not what I meant.”

A cool wind rattled the limbs of the trees. It swirled around the skirts of her peach gown. Sophia shivered at the sudden change of temperature. “Do you feel that?”

Ian straightened. “In case you haven't noticed, there's a blasted storm approaching. Or are storm clouds necessary to encourage the fairies to come out?” His blue eyes were filled with humor, making it impossible for Sophia to stay angry with him. His teasing smile crinkled around those eyes. He really was quite handsome. He was also a nonbeliever.

Sophia wasn't so sure. “The temperature of the air changed. You did not feel it?”

“Sophia, there are no fairies. No wishes. Just you and me on this stone rock.” Ian glanced up at the sky. “About to get drenched if we do not start walking back to the Lodge.”

Sophia looked at the sky and the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. “We have time. Do you have a wish?”

“I'll not waste my time encouraging this silliness,” Ian said. “I'm a businessman. I don't believe in fairy tales.”

“Why am I not surprised by your attitude? You spend too much time with your ledgers and numbers.”

“Don't tell me you believe in this nonsense. I know you better than that.”

Sophia fought the urge to huff. He thought he knew her so very well. How wrong he was. She had wishes, dreams. Maybe they weren't the same as her sisters', but they were hers. She closed her eyes, trying to put what she wanted into words. She had to get them just right.

“Please tell me you are not making a wish at this very moment.”

The disbelief in his voice pricked her temper. “I should wish that you be stuck with me forever. Think of the amount of torment I could rain down on you for a lifetime.” Sophia's eyes flew open and she slapped her hand over her mouth.

The cold wind whirled around them both, pushing her into Ian. She reached out her hands and grasped his arms, trying to keep their bodies from touching.

“What is going on?” Ian demanded.

“No! Please no. I didn't mean it.”

“That was the wish?” Ian threw his head back and laughed. “Be careful what you wish for, Sophia.”

“No! It's not the wish. It cannot be the wish.” She tried to step away from him, but he grabbed her arm.

“Only you, Sophia Townsend, would make the wrong wish.”

Winds swirled around her skirts, causing them to brush against Ian's buckskins, pushing her harder into his arms. She slipped on the uneven rocks. Ian grasped her arms to hold her steady. Sophia looked up into his blue eyes and felt the strangest sensation. She didn't like it at all.

* * *

Ian clasped Sophia's arms, steadying her, even as the wind picked up and shoved them closer together. “The rain is coming faster. We have to leave—now.”

Sophia lifted her head to the sky, stretching her neck. Even with the ridiculous frilly bonnet she was wearing, the soft pale skin of her neck tempted him. She always tempted him. For the years he'd known her, Sophia Townsend had danced into and out of his reach, teasing him like a cat with a piece of string.

“I've wished for the wrong thing. I've ruined everything.”

Sophia hung her head down, crestfallen, the feathers of her silly hat tickling his nose.

“Then it's a good thing fairies and magic aren't real.”

Sophia glanced up at him, her eyes doleful. “Do you not believe in anything?”

She bit her bottom lip. Every time she did that, he felt something tighten inside. He forced his gaze to glance at the darkening sky. “I'm sure even fairies believe in second chances. Restate your wish quickly. I'm not in the mood to be drenched in a cold rain.”

“I don't think it works that way, but it can't hurt.” Sophia's thick lashes fell, covering her dark eyes. Her full lips moved with the words, but he couldn't make them out. What could she be wishing for?

“There. Done,” she said. “For all the good it will do.”

Ian added another thing to the list of things Sophia blamed him for. The list seemed to grow longer every day. Thunder rumbled in the distance. They needed to get indoors. He held his hand out to Sophia. “Come, I'll help you down the steps.”