Everlasting Enchantment (2 page)

“Oh, thank you.” Millicent looked over her shoulder. Two pairs of predatory eyes blinked back at her. She suppressed the growl that threatened to shoot up her throat and turned back to her companion. “I’m most eager to meet the, er, famous lady. Shall we?”

Instead of taking offense at Millicent’s tug on her arm, Claire laughed and pulled in the opposite direction. “She’s this way. And don’t think I didn’t catch that little stumble. I think
notorious
would be a more likely description than
famous
.” She breezed right past the two baronets, who glared at Millicent and spun to follow them.

The crowd parted easily for Lady Yardley. Not so for the baronets, and they soon lost the men in the press of people. Millicent breathed a sigh of relief. And then she realized the direction Claire had taken.

Millicent ducked her head as they pressed through a group of baronets. She hardly dared to breathe. She had intended to escape only two, and now Lady Yardley had dragged her into a pack of them.

“That’s a charming dress,” said Claire, eyeing Millicent’s brocade gown, chatting gaily away, as if being surrounded by predators didn’t matter to her one whit. “Where in London did you find a seamstress who can craft such skillful rosettes?”

Surely her companion knew that baronets had the strength to rip them to shreds? Millicent could barely focus on a reply, while every hair on the back of her neck stood upright with alarm. She had no idea where the dress had come from. But she’d learned that when in doubt, a half-truth is better than an outright lie. “His Grace provided me with a wardrobe. He said my country clothing would put him to shame.”

“Hmph. Well, he was probably right. Willie has always had impeccable good taste. I think that’s why I admire him so—you certainly aren’t blocking my way, are you, sir?”

A large man with a hawkish nose stood in front of Lady Yardley, his enormous liquid eyes fixed on Millicent. He bowed aside at her companion’s words but not before he shot Millicent a look of raptorial hunger. Ordinarily a bird of prey wouldn’t frighten her. But a shifter’s were-form could be larger than their human form. Did Claire truly not know what type of creature she brushed aside? Or did her status as a lady provide her with such confident security?

Millicent didn’t have such protection.

Her companion finally tugged her into the space between the shape-shifters and another cluster of aristocratic gentlemen. Millicent took a deep breath and refused to turn around and look into the eyes of all the weres that burned holes in the back of her neck. She’d noticed several female baronets among them, but apparently the aristocracy knew of their natures and they also weren’t allowed to penetrate their group.

But the gentlemen parted for Lady Yardley and her companion. The Duke of Ghoulston had been right. Millicent’s anonymity provided her access.

The heightened senses of her were-nature allowed her to overhear the comments of the aristocrats as she passed.

“Here come two more ladies.”

“Hush. I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.”

“Well, I’d jolly well give my best horse to know what they’re
hiding
,” said his fellow loudly.

Lady Yardley’s mouth curled into a secretive smile.

“Haven’t you heard? Lord Dunwist told me that his wife has been acting strange lately. Ever since she made friends with Lady Chatterly, she’s been as demanding as his mistress.”

“Good gawd, man, that’s preposterous! Ladies should behave according to their station.”

“I hear there’s some sort of powerful magic involved.”

“Damn it, man. I say we should do something about this.”

But they didn’t appear to know precisely what that might be, because as Millicent passed through their group to where a circle of ladies stood, not a one of the top hats made a move to follow them. A tall woman with iridescent strix feathers in her hair glanced up and smiled. The circle of women opened to let them in, their wide skirts smashing back together as they closed the gap behind them.

“Lady Chatterly,” said Claire. “How good to see you again.”

The feathers trembled. “We were just about to retire to the salon. It seems that we have attracted some attention.” Her clear gray eyes focused on Millicent. “And who have we here?”

“Allow me to introduce you to Lady Millicent. She’s from the country.”

Millicent blinked innocently at the notorious lady, who bestowed an anticipatory smile upon her. “She may join us, since you vouch for her, Lady Yardley. It should be… amusing to have her amongst us.”

With a sweep of her skirts, Lady Chatterly made for a door set near a golden urn at the bottom of one of the rainbows. The other ladies followed, their gowns looking like so many silk flowers clustered in a bouquet. Millicent snuck a glance behind them as she passed through the door into the salon. The group of curious gentlemen followed, and the shape-shifters watched with angry, hooded eyes.

The last lady through the door firmly closed it behind her, drawing the bolt with a resounding snap.

The room had been decorated years ago, rather garishly, with portraits of the royal family in huge gilt frames, heavy furniture of mauve and crimson, and silver candelabra stands in every corner. A fireplace large enough for Millicent to stand nearly upright in crackled with a merry blaze against the autumn chill.

Lady Chatterly enthroned herself on a chair set before a highly polished table. “Ladies, please sit down. I have much to tell you and I fear we have little time.”

Millicent sat near the closest window, the cold seeping in around the panes and cooling her hot cheeks. Sunshine spoiled the dwellers aboveground in other ways, for they kept their rooms too warm for someone who had lived her entire life in the cold dank of the Underground. She watched the eager faces of the other ladies, hoping that whatever Lady Chatterly had to say would involve the relic. Claire took a seat close to Millicent, as if to protect her, which she found endearing.

“First,” said Lady Chatterly, “we must strengthen the wards to keep the prying magic of our men from the room.”

Millicent’s heart skipped as several of the women clasped hands to perform a warding spell. She blew out a sigh of relief when several of the ladies just folded their hands in their lap. They must not have the title or the power to perform such a spell, and wouldn’t think it amiss that Millicent didn’t join in either.

She could see the magic forming as a slight haze, feel it prickle the skin on her arms, but otherwise the spell didn’t affect her. It wouldn’t affect the other weres in the ballroom either, so the doors and walls would have to suffice. Millicent hoped they were thick.

“Now then,” said Lady Chatterly when they finished the spell. “There’s a back exit across the room.” She nodded toward the far wall. “And a carriage waiting for the one the relic will choose. As some of you already know, the only condition is that you tell no one the relic is in your possession, and you return it to me on the morrow. Are you newcomers clear on that?”

Several women nodded their heads, although a few looked frightened. Millicent mimicked the expression of fear while her mind calculated with truly frightening intensity. The duke had been right; the relic existed. These women had been harboring a dangerous secret. But why would Lady Chatterly allow other women to borrow such a powerful thing?

“You are so generous, my lady,” breathed Millicent, trying to sound adoring instead of suspicious.

Lady Chatterly shrugged. “I made a promise.” She didn’t elaborate on her explanation and Millicent resisted the urge to press. Besides, what did it matter, when it only made it easier for her to get her hands on the relic?

Instead Millicent worried about what the woman meant when she said the relic would choose one of the ladies. She would have to follow the woman somehow, catch her alone or asleep in order to steal the thing. At least she had a significant advantage over the other shape-shifters still in the ballroom. She would know which of the women had the relic. She studied the ladies around her, some old, some just barely out of the schoolroom.

Lady Yardley leaned forward, her hazel eyes bright with reflected candlelight. “He’s real then?”

“Of course.” Lady Chatterly gave her a dreamy smile. Several other women nodded just as dreamily with her. “Quite real, I assure you.”

“And how will the relic choose?” persisted Claire. “Really, darling, you must quit being so mysterious and give us more information. There are too many of us innocents here tonight.”

The feathers in Lady Chatterly’s hair swayed with her nod. She removed her gloves and then set her reticule on the shiny surface of the table. The fidgeting of the younger girls ceased as they all stared at the embroidered silk bag. An expectant silence fell, only the muffled strains of the music from the ballroom disturbing it.

Lady Chatterly loosened the drawstring and removed an exquisite ivory fan, a gold-embossed dancing card, and a silver filigree perfume box. Silk swished and corsets strained as the ladies leaned closer for a better look. With a dramatic flourish, the lady dug something out from the very bottom of the bag, set it on the table, and swept everything else aside.

Some of the ladies sighed with disappointment, but Millicent’s heart skipped. It looked old. Old enough to be a true relic. A solid band of dull silver with a round stone set in the center. The blue-gray shimmer of the jewel hypnotized her for a moment; the wink of the fire reflected in the depths made her heart twist with something she couldn’t define. “What is that gem?”

“A moonstone,” murmured Lady Yardley. “A common enough jewel, although I’ve never seen one with quite so much translucence.”

“Each of you will try it on. Like so.” Lady Chatterly slipped the large band easily over her hand and up her arm. “I know it looks rather big, but if you’re chosen, it will tighten to a snug fit.” She stared at the relic for a moment, then sighed in disappointment as it fell off her wrist. “Well, one can still hope.”

“What do you mean?” asked a rather matronly woman.

Lady Chatterly answered the question in a roundabout way. “He will come to you at midnight and disappear with the dawn. He won’t appear twice to the same woman, so there’s no use in keeping the relic longer.” Her gray eyes glittered as her voice lowered to a husky whisper. “He will make your every desire come true. And some that you didn’t even know you had.”

“Who?” demanded Lady Yardley.

“His name is Gareth Solimere and he wears the clothing of a knight of the Round Table… yes, as in King Arthur. He has been trapped in the relic for a long time.”

Questions spun around inside Millicent’s head. She could see her questions mirrored on the faces of the others, but Lady Chatterly held up her hand to forgo them. “Trust me, they are not important. Once you look into his brown eyes, run your fingers through his ebony hair, feel the touch of his lips upon yours…”

Giggles and gasps followed her words but Lady Chatterly seemed lost in rapturous memory. Millicent rolled her eyes in disgust. So that’s what all these women were in such a twitter about? A man? Her mother had taught her about men. Enough to know to stay away from them.

She fought the urge to stomp from the room.

One of the youngest girls—her cheeks a bright pink—had the temerity to say, “What did he do to you?”

“Aah. Shall I make my reputation even more notorious?” Lady Chatterly asked herself rather loudly.

“Is it possible?” countered Claire with a laugh.

“Certainly.” Those pale gray eyes sparkled in challenge and her feathers danced a jig on her head. “I thought I knew myself. I have been married, after all.”

The few women who had kept themselves apart from the circle around the table suddenly drew closer. The room had been fraught with tension since they entered. Now the walls fairly vibrated. Even Millicent couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward expectantly.

Lady Chatterly’s voice lowered to a mere whisper. “He knew exactly how to ignite my passion. He knew how naughty I’ve been…”

Her hand flew to her breast as her breath quickened. “He slowly removed my clothing piece by piece…”

A handful of the younger girls, and a few of the older, swooned.

“…and he spanked me soundly.”

Skirts flew up right and left as several of the ladies fainted. Millicent reflexively rose to catch someone but couldn’t decide whom and froze in indecision. Lady Yardley blinked at her in surprise. Millicent’s were-nature allowed her to move faster than an ordinary human, so it was probably just as well she had frozen before fully betraying her true nature. She gave Claire a weak smile and slowly sat back down.

“I stand corrected,” said Lady Yardley as she pulled smelling salts out of her reticule and handed them to another woman to administer to the fallen. “Your reputation is now even more notorious, Lady Chatterly.”

The matron who had spoken earlier gave an elegant snort, then quickly slipped off her gloves, pushed back the voluminous sleeves of her black gown, and held out her arm. Lady Chatterly gave her a knowing grin and slipped the band of silver over the woman’s knobby-knuckled hand up to her wrist. Then easily pulled it off again.

“Maybe next time,” murmured Lady Chatterly in sympathy before trying it on another woman. And then another.

Millicent’s heart started to pound and she felt a little faint while the lady drew closer as the relic failed to tighten around anyone’s wrist. Bloody corset. It didn’t allow one to breathe properly. Of course they would expect her to try it on.

Lady Chatterly suddenly stood next to her, tapped her slippered foot impatiently while Millicent carefully removed her gloves. The lady thrust the bracelet at her. The cold metal touched her fingers and Millicent suppressed a shudder. She had nothing to fear. It wouldn’t choose her… she had no use for any man. Besides, her immunity to magic meant it couldn’t cast a spell on her. Although hadn’t Lady Chatterly assured them that the bracelet, and the man trapped within, were as real as the chair she sat upon? Then she would be just as vulnerable as any of these other women.

But the last thing she would ever desire in her life would be a man. No, she was nothing like these other women.