Everlasting Enchantment (24 page)

Millicent had closed her eyes for what she thought had been just a moment, a delicious feeling of lassitude overwhelming her. And then she heard the door to her little room snick shut. She sat up with a start, blinking in the gloom. He had left her. After making love to her until she was so exhausted she’d fallen asleep, he’d just walked out without a word.

She glanced around the room in confusion. Perhaps she had only dreamed of him?

But she now felt fully awake. She could smell sour ale, could feel her hard pallet beneath her. She was still in the Swill and Seelie, where she had wallowed in misery for weeks. Her surroundings were too painfully real.

As real as the gentle ache from Gareth’s lovemaking.

Millicent hugged her shoulders. No, it had not been a dream. He had come to her. Had made love to her like a man starved for affection. Yet he had asked her to give him the relic…

She had thought it had been his way of saying good-bye.

For the last few weeks she had resumed her old life once again, determined to forget him. But she couldn’t. A head of blond hair would set her heart racing, and then plummeting to earth when she realized it wasn’t him. She would dream of him night after night… of his goodness, his courage, his gentle touch.

Millicent eavesdropped on every conversation she could, trying to find out what had happened to him after that fateful day. Talk flowed about the battle between Queen Victoria and the Duke of Ghoulston. The patrons of the pub relished the tales of Ghoulston’s blindness and eventual madness. But no one mentioned her enchanted knight.

Millicent dropped her arms. She knew the queen had taken him to Buckingham, but after that, Gareth seemed to have disappeared from aboveground. She feared the Master had taken the relic to the Hall, and trapped Gareth inside it forever.

But her knight had come to her. Somehow. Someway. And he still needed her. She had felt it in his kiss, with his every touch.

And she had promised she would never forsake him again.

Millicent surged to her feet. How dare that piece of metal try to tell her she wasn’t good enough for him? That her love wasn’t strong enough? So—so she couldn’t break the spell… who knew what sort of torture Merlin had intended with his curse? Perhaps he wanted to deny Gareth any happiness at all, and despite their different natures, she knew she could make him happy.

Her anger at having someone—or something— other than herself determine her fate, did what no persuasion could have. It made Millicent look at herself in a new light.

She had changed since she had first met Gareth. He had tamed her beast, had taught her about the value of charity and honor. She had been raised in the Underground, had learned to be selfish in all her concerns… and yet, she had still loved Nell. Millicent had taken care of her and risked her life for her.

Nell had died to help queen and Country.

And Millicent knew if she could ask Nell, the firebird would answer that she did not regret it.

So, what made a person good or bad? She’d always known the answer, but now embraced it fully within her heart: their actions. Not the cost of the clothing they wore, or the size of their home, or where they lived, whether in the grandest part of West London, or deep within the Underground. Even if they shape-shifted to a beast, their animal natures did not define them.

Millicent yanked open her door, strode into the pub and over to the bar. When she discovered Bran had left his room, she spun and poked a finger at the messenger sprite snoring on the counter. “Where is he?”

One translucent wing fluttered. “Eh, what?”

“Bran. Where did he go?”

Ambrose wobbled upright to a sitting position, screwed up his little pointed face, apparently trying to summon all of his brainpower to answer the question. Bran saved the sprite from further effort by striding into the pub, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

“Where have you been?” snapped Millicent.

“’Tis no concern of yers, little she-cat. What’s got ye in such a lather?”

“The dress.”

“Wot?”

“The ridiculous dress Lady Roseus loaned me.”

Bran scratched his head. “The one ye told me to burn?”

“Yes. Where is it?”

He folded his arms, raised a brow at her. “And what would ye be wanting with it, now? I seem to recall ye sayin’ ye’d never go topside again.”

Millicent scowled.

Bran laughed. “So ye’re gonna go to him, is that it? I think ye might surprise him, gel. Yes, I think it might come as a big surprise.”

He looked as if he kept some sort of secret from her, as if he knew more about the situation than he let on.

“You saw him tonight, didn’t you?” demanded Millicent.

“He might have popped in to give me his regards.”

“Stop teasing, Bran. This is serious. Do you know where I can find him?”

“What did he tell you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I think ye’ll be in for some surprises yerself, Millie. And far be it for me to spoil them.” Bran strode to his room and returned with the bronze gown. “I meant to return it to Rose, but kept forgetting. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind ye borrowing it again. And I’m sure she wouldn’t mind offering ye a carriage to find yer knight.”

Millicent gathered the gown into her arms. So, Bran knew more than he would tell her, but he didn’t know where Gareth might be. She didn’t bother pressing Bran for more information; he could be obstinately tight-lipped when he wanted to be. And now that she had made the decision, Millicent could not wait to find her knight. “Does Lady Roseus know where Gareth is?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I know who might. That friend of yers, Lady Yardley.”

***

London appeared to get more crowded every time Millicent came aboveground. The sun hid behind gray clouds, and it seemed as if every maid and footman scurried to purchase their morning groceries before the clouds belched out their impending rain. Millicent turned her face away from the carriage window and closed her eyes. She really had no interest in the scenery, despite the astounding sight of a maid who carried her purchases on the humped back of a gangly beast and the footman who sported a small dragon curled about his neck. She wanted only to find Gareth.

After an interminable length of time, Lady Roseus’s carriage lurched to a stop in front of Claire’s peacock mansion in the West End… although the peacocks now appeared to be supplemented with gigantic purplish bluebells, which hung down from foot-wide stalks that surrounded the building. Millicent passed under an array of them as she walked to the front door, and the movement from her passage set them to tinkling as if they each possessed a clapper of crystal.

The butler led her into the elegant home, informing her that Lady Yardley already had a guest. Millicent came to an abrupt stop when she entered the withdrawing room of Sothby Manor, one of the most aristocratic mansions in London, and saw a shape-shifting baronet lounging on the satin cushions. “Sir Harcourt!”

The were-lion rose from his seat next to Claire, where they had been sitting most inappropriately close together. The last time she’d seen him, he had bloody fur around his neck. Blood she had put there.

Harcourt gave her a low bow. “Lady Millicent. What a pleasure to see you again.”

She raised a brow in doubt, and turned her attention to Claire. “Your father may have an apoplexy, what with all the animals you choose to befriend.”

Claire smiled, her hazel eyes dancing with mischief. “I rather think my engagement may come as something of a shock… but Father has enough mistresses to comfort him from the upset.”

Millicent supposed if she had been raised aboveground she would have gasped at that shocking little speech. Instead, she wrinkled her brow. “Engagement? I thought you despised Sir Harcourt.”

“Her feelings have changed,” rumbled the golden-maned man, laying a possessive hand on Claire’s shoulder. “Obviously.”

“Do have a seat, Millicent,” interjected Claire, nodding at a wingback chair beside her, “and tell me what brings you here in such a state. For you do look rather… intense.”

The harp that stood in the corner of the room changed tune, a fluent string of harmonious notes washing the air. Millicent relaxed her shoulders, unclenched her hands from the handle of the black lace parasol that went with her bronze outfit. She also wore the little beaded hat and light green gloves, and found herself staring at the seams in the fabric covering her hands. She did not want to do this in front of Harcourt. They might be acting civil for Claire’s sake, but Millicent could feel the man’s resentment vibrating with the harp strings.

Lions did not like to be beaten in a fight… especially not by a female panther.

But Sir Harcourt resumed his seat next to Lady Yardley, and did not look as if he was going anywhere soon, and Millicent had no desire to dawdle. Well, then.

She raised her eyes and chin. “I am looking for Sir Gareth.”

“Ha,” said Claire. “It’s about time.” She leaned over and rang a golden bell sitting on a marble table carved in the shape of an upside-down bluebell. “You will join us for dinner, Lady Millicent, for we have much to discuss. You must explain where you have been the last few weeks, and what on earth you have been thinking.”

“There is nothing to explain. He is—what? What do you mean,
dinner
?”

Claire frowned, and Harcourt gazed at Millicent with a smirk on his handsome mouth.

Millicent backed up a step, turned, and glanced out the window. Time. “What time is it?” She had assumed it was morning, because she had been with Gareth no less than a few hours ago.

“She has always lived in the Underground,” said Harcourt, “and they have an odd sense of time down there.”

Lady Yardley shushed her fiancé. “What is it about the hour that disturbs you, Millicent?” She turned her head as a servant responded to her summons and waved the maid away, before placing her gentle gaze on Millicent once again.

Claire was a true friend, to accept Millicent’s odd history so readily… but Millicent could not give the thought the appreciation it deserved, for one thing kept bouncing about in her head.

If it was close to dinnertime, then Gareth…

“I saw Gareth but a few hours ago. It cannot be that late in the day.”

The were-lion’s handsome face altered, becoming gentler somehow, his scar making him appear more sympathetic than dangerous. “She does not know.”

“Know what?”

Claire smiled as she answered, “Sir Gareth has been released from his curse.”

The world spun. Millicent took a step, and fortunately managed to maneuver a chair beneath her when her legs collapsed. She could not believe it. The spell had been broken. But…

“Who? Who broke the spell?”

Claire shook her head. “It was not I. The bracelet would not tighten on my—”

“Then who?” interrupted Millicent. “I assumed he kept it—who did Gareth give it to the night we fought the dragon?”

“The queen took it,” replied Harcourt. His eyes widened at Millicent’s stricken face, and he hurried on to say, “But it would not tighten on her wrist, either, although I imagine she kept it for a time. That taste of Gareth’s blood kept her by his side for weeks. She even granted him a manor to go along with his title, ancient though it is—the title, not the manor. Although it
is
a rather old heap of stone—”

“Then who?” demanded Millicent. “Who broke his curse?”

“She sounds like an owl,” muttered Harcourt.

Claire gave him an indignant glance and crossed the room to kneel next to Millicent, placing her gloved hands over Millicent’s own. “You did, dearest. No, do not look so surprised. I was there when it happened, although I did not realize the significance of the moment until the queen explained it all to me later. The curse lifted when Gareth found out that you had given up the relic to me. I think… I think it broke his heart, to realize you had betrayed your promise.”

If Harcourt had not been in the room, Millicent might have felt inclined to cry at Claire’s words. But she stiffened her spine, and the tears barely burned her eyes. “I did not fully realize…”

“Hush, he knows.” She frowned. “Or at least, he had enough faith in you to hope you still loved him. Afterwards, of course.”

“After?”

“After he recovered from his heart being broken. I daresay, I heard it… although the queen says it was the sound of the gemstone in the relic breaking.”

Several things suddenly made sense to Millicent. Her heart felt like a bird trapped in a cage, threatening to break free. “Then the bracelet did not tighten on my wrist because the curse had already been broken.”

“Merlin was a crafty old coot,” interjected Harcourt. “He didn’t damn Gareth to find his true love. In fact, Merlin made it harder for him as the relic had no design for the women it chose. The only thing the relic had been enchanted to sense was Gareth’s broken heart. The Master of the Hall of Mages thinks Merlin cared only that Gareth should earn his freedom by feeling betrayed… the same way Merlin had felt when your knight had broken his heart by dallying with his Lady Vivian.”

“Gareth has more than paid for that crime,” retorted Claire.

Harcourt nodded. “Merlin made sure of it.”

Millicent bowed her head, the silly hat tugging at the shaggy coiffure Ambrose had managed to twist up for her. “I must go to him.” Had Gareth felt this way, when she had rejected him? She could not bear thinking of him in such pain. She would not shy away from him this time. She would confess her mistake and demand his forgiveness, and if he did not forgive her… if she had broken his heart as badly as hers had once been broken… then she would heal it. As her knight had healed hers.

Claire rose. “He is not in London. I heard he left for his estate this morning.”

“Where?” Millicent would follow him to the ends of the earth. Her resolve to be with Gareth… to reassure him that she loved him… to take away any pain she had caused him, overrode her feeling of dread at being alone aboveground. Of traveling beneath the sun, living a life in light instead of darkness.

She might even come to like it.