Belmary House Book One (20 page)

“She’ll get over it. We’ve known each other since birth. She’s practically another sister to me.”

“I’ll never understand you,” she sighed.

Even though it shouldn’t have mattered, she felt a glimmer of satisfaction that he admitted Serena was nothing more than a close friend, even better, like a sister.

He tapped her forehead. “Why would you need to? Shall I run after her and apologize, or would you rather I continue?”

He had her, and she suppressed a grumble with bad grace. “Continue.”

“Ah, I forgot where I was,” he admitted, ducking her swat by capturing both her hands in his and holding tight with a devilish grin.

“Your mother saved the crops and healed your sister,” she reminded him, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. “Be serious. I’m still not sure if I trust you.”

Even as she said the words, she knew she didn’t mean them. His face fell, and she regretted them, even in jest. Now that he had explained, she didn’t know why she had ever doubted him.

“You didn’t trust me?” he asked, astounded. “Everyone trusts me. I’m incredibly trustworthy. I can count one instance where I didn’t come through for someone and that was hardly my fault.”

“How am I to know anything like that?” she asked reasonably. “You just order me around and half answer about one third of my questions. Someone who actually seems really trustworthy like Kostya says something different and of course I’m going to have doubts.”

He wrinkled up his nose and she cursed herself for thinking him adorable. He was not adorable at all, he was pompous and rude.

“Yes, I can see where you made your mistake. It was an honest one, so I forgive you.”

She got her hands free and flicked him hard in the side of the head, then scooted out of his reach in case he wanted to retaliate. He merely rubbed his head, messing up his hair and managing to look even better to her. Damn it. She crossed her arms protectively in front of her, as if she could shield her heart from his charms, and pointedly looked anywhere but at him.

“So the Pov— Kostya’s people came after your family?”

“The Povest coven. They’re from Moldavia, a very magical place. Scotland is too, but there’s something about their land … I’d wager even you could feel it if I took you there. Which I won’t, so don’t bother asking.”

She tried to look disdainful, but she had been about to ask. In this day and age, it would probably take three months to get there, though.

“But no, that isn’t when they started to bother us. They made a visit, Kostya’s grandfather and aunt, and I could see my mother knew who they were but could also tell she didn’t like them. She was too polite. About a year later, we were invited to visit them, and she agreed, even though it was a long journey, and that’s when we met Kostya. He asked to come live with us, and my mother agreed to that as well. I didn’t find out until much later that Kostya was actually running away.”

“I’m surprised these know-it-alls didn’t just whisk him back using a transportation spell or something.”

She waited eagerly for him to scoffingly tell her there was no such thing but he just shrugged.

“They could have got him back in a trice, and destroyed us all in the same breath if they wanted to. But they let him stay with us because they wanted my mother’s book. That book was the accumulation of centuries of spells, many my mother and great-grandmother wrote themselves. It had a block on it that was hundreds of years old, so no one could forcefully take it. It had to be freely given as a gift. No one could even touch it if they weren’t related to us.”

“How do you know all this?” she asked, causing him to look seriously peeved at the interruption. “Sorry, but weren’t you just a kid?”

“I learned it the way a child learns anything. I listened at keyholes. Also, Camilla found out a lot of it from Kostya after they were married, so she told me. Our mother died when we were thirteen, and two years later I went to London to learn my duties as the next Earl, as my father was near death himself. After I learned about the portal, that’s when Camilla got interested in magic. She pored over that book, and even talked Kostya into meeting with his family again. She spent several months with them, and when she came back, she could travel without the portal.”

Tilly nodded. Camilla was her ticket back if the house got destroyed. “Then what?”

“She kept studying. Her powers were— are astounding. The Povests needed to keep her on their side, so they negotiated a marriage between her and one of their own. They wanted Kostya back, and they wanted the book in return.”

“What a crappy deal.”

“Indeed. Camilla flatly refused, until they changed the terms. They could have the book if she could have Kostya. I was against it, but she agreed. They were happily married for ten years before everything went to hell.”

“Why did she agree? She already had Kostya, it sounded like.”

Ashford frowned, studying her as if he didn’t know whether to tell her the next part. She sat very still, hardly daring to breathe. She was about to beg him to go on when he held up his hand and continued.

“She didn’t really have him. There were …” he stopped and bit his lip. “Extenuating circumstances. After I knew them, I agreed she made the right decision. Kostya is truly a brother to me. But our family’s book in their hands still doesn’t sit well.”

Tilly knew better than to push him about the extenuating circumstances, but didn’t think that was the end of it. If the Povests had the book they wanted so badly, why go after Camilla?

“Why?” she asked. “Why would they take her after all that?” He breathed out, looking at his pocket watch, something she hadn’t seen him do since she first arrived at Belmary House in his time. She nodded to the table. “If you’re thinking about your supper, better hurry and tell me the rest, or have a snack. Because I’ll explode if you don’t finish this.”

He smiled. “I believe you would,” he said. “I hesitate only because what happens next may make you think poorly of my sister. I beg you to use your marvelous open-minded way of thinking as I tell you.”

She blushed at the unexpected compliment. “Of course,” she said. “She’s your sister and you love her. I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be forgiven.”

“After Lucy’s accident, Camilla went quite mad with grief. She left the estate and—” his voice faltered and he stopped, gripping his knees and staring at the floor. “She took up with a young man from the village, and moved with him to Edinburgh where they lived together openly. I know she was tormented at this time, but I think she believed she loved that young man. He kept her from dwelling on Lucy’s death, I suppose.” He looked up at her. “I know I should feel it was sordid, but if that sort of love kept her from feeling such pain, I can’t begrudge her too much.”

“Oh, Julian.” She wanted to touch him but didn’t dare, having never seen him so lost. “I’m sure it was hard to go on after losing her child. She did the best she could.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, then cleared his throat. “Kostya was a shell of himself, and wanted to give her time to come to her senses. She might have. It might have run its course and he would have forgiven her and taken her back, but—.” He stopped abruptly, and made a face.
“Things got … bad. She delved so deeply into magic again, that it aroused the suspicions of the Povests, who’d left us alone since the wedding. They don’t like anyone getting more powerful than them, and Camilla is extremely strong.”

He was still keeping something from her, probably many somethings, but she was grateful to get so much out of him as she had. It had to be painful to place someone he cared about in an unfavorable light.

“So now you’re thinking it was them who took her?” Tilly asked.

“I don’t believe they could have simply taken her, she’s too strong now. But you got me to thinking more in their direction. They may have lured her away or be threatening her somehow. She may have just fled in fear of them coming down on us here in Scotland. My friend Jeremy might have seen her in France, which is why I’m going to his home to speak with him, wring every last detail from him. Please believe me, Matilda. My sister is alive, and most likely in danger. She hated above all else for me to suffer, because it made her suffer as well. Something has happened to her that won’t allow her to contact us, but I know in my heart, in my soul, that she’s alive.”

So much information swirled around in her her head that she couldn’t find words to say how she felt, but her doubt was gone. She finally understood how he must feel, and nodded firmly.

“I believe you,” she said simply. The relief that washed over his face made an uncomfortable lump rise in her throat. She wanted to hug him, but imagined his reaction to such an impertinence and stayed in her seat. “When will we leave for Jeremy’s place?”

“You’re staying put,” he said. All trace of wanting to hug him spiraled out of her like water down a drain. “Don’t argue it, either. It’s too dangerous. If Wodge has been watching us, he’ll assume I was delivering a guest from London. If you continue on with me now, he may get suspicious and investigate where and when you came from. You do not want Solomon Wodge getting suspicious about you.”

She curled her lip in disappointment, not wanting to stay alone. “What about that big gun of yours? Can’t you protect me?”

His eyes widened, and he coughed. “It’s too much of a risk. You can stop batting your eyelashes, it has no effect on me.” He paused, frowning, and she batted harder. “Well, very little effect. You’ll stay here and order dresses and pick flowers. If you care to ride, we have plenty of suitable horses. I won’t be gone more than a fortnight.”

“A fortnight,” she yelped. “That’s two weeks.”

“You can embroider me a handkerchief.” He stood up and headed for the door. “Let’s go to supper before they have our heads. I’m sure you heard they prepared all my favorites.”

“Whatever, my lord.”

She followed him, making faces at his back, determined to find a way to make him take her with him. Embroider him a handkerchief, her ass.

Tilly lay in the middle of the huge canopy bed, mounds of soft blankets tucked up to her chin. As tired as she was from the journey, she couldn’t get to sleep, too nervous to be left alone amongst strangers if Ashford ditched her the next morning. She was determined not to let him go without her, and planned to wake up at the crack of dawn to continue to cajole him. The way he’d acted during dinner gave her hope that it could be done.

He’d been like a completely different Ashford during the cozy family meal, alternating joking with Kosta, bringing up hilarious tales of their youth on the estate, and flirting outrageously with both her and Serena. And she’d completely fallen for it, forgetting to be mad at him for ordering her around and his plan to leave her behind. Especially when he gallantly walked her to her room, getting much too close to her as he wished her a good night’s sleep.

“I’m going to worry about you incessantly,” he’d said, his voice low in the darkened hall at such a late hour. “Please be good.”

Those words might have chased off her good will toward him, but his tone was truly concerned, instead of imperious, and as much as she wanted to close her eyes to ward off any unruly feelings, she was locked in his intense gaze.

She’d almost gasped when he pulled her hand to his lips, never taking those steely eyes off of her. She imagined she could still feel his warm breath on the back of her hand and gasped now, throwing the covers off and thrashing restlessly.

She turned to the side and rolled into a tight ball, her stomach taking a dip. After he edged her backward into this beautifully furnished bedroom, he gave her a heart stopping smile, wished her pleasant dreams, and left, closing the door with a solid click behind him. She’d collapsed against it, unsure why her legs had turned to jelly, and waited to see if he paused outside in the hallway. Disappointment, then embarrassment for being disappointed, crashed over her when she heard his steps moving briskly away.

The words she’d heard him speak out in the hallway reverberated in her memory. “Oi, Serena, you’re not going to sleep so soon, are you? Stay up and play cards with me. It’s been ages since I’ve had you to myself.”

Serena’s laughter had tinkled like a windchime and Tilly grabbed a pillow and smashed it to her midsection to try and squash away the pain that settled there. She imagined Ashford linking his arm with Serena’s as he led her back down the stairs to get the much missed time alone with her.

They’re just friends, she reminded herself, hugging the pillow tighter. But she thought of all the flirting at dinner, the laughter and shared looks. He’d divided his time evenly between them, just being a gentleman, she told herself.

They probably got training for things like that in this time, how to make a lady feel like she was special. What were they called, in the romance novels she’d read? Rakes. That’s what he was. Just a rake, getting his rake on. It didn’t mean a thing.

Except, he’d stuffed her away in a room quick enough to go back and have Serena all to himself, so maybe there was something going on besides just old friends reminiscing. Did they have friends with benefits in this time? The thought made her sit up straight and swing her legs over the side, her feet dangling several inches from the floor in the big bed.

Oh, what was she going to do, even if that was what was happening? She pulled her legs back up under the blankets and slumped into the squishy feather mattress, wrestling with her jealous feelings. She didn’t have any right or reason to be jealous, but that green monster was tearing up her insides all the same. Dexter’s words came back to pile on, his mention that he’d seen a paragraph about Ashford marrying his neighbor.