Fascinated Page 17

  “Yes,” murmured Edward. “Except Verity.”

  “So you see, having someone thinking of my comfort, it’s nothing I’ve ever had before.”

  Edward’s frown deepened. “What about when you lived with your parents?”

  “I barely remember that.” Her fingers twisted together. “It was very different. We had only a small house near the Tyne, and one servant. I think I was allowed to run quite wild then.” A voice from distant memory rose up in her mind. Alicia! You little savage! No, don’t you laugh, impertinent miss. Mama is quite cross with you. Truly, I am! At the same time she remembered the smell of the leaves and the grass, the sting that came from scraping her knees and the itch of mud drying on her bare feet. She remembered her father, who was tall as a tree and strong as Jack the Giant Killer tossing her up into the air and laughing as she flapped her arms and tried to fly. That’s it, my girl! You almost had it that time!

  Alicia’s heart twisted. How long had it been since she’d let herself remember such things? How long, indeed, since she’d been able to remember?

  “What happened to them?” Edward asked softly.

  “I don’t know. I think I was sent away from home for a while. It must have been then that Mama fell ill.”

  But as Alicia spoke, more memories unfurled inside her. She remembered standing in the darkness of their little parlor, tears of rage pouring down her face. She remembered her heart filled to the breaking point with fury and loss. She remembered being a little child and wanting to die. But not because Mama was ill and Papa had vanished. No. Because of something quite different. Something wrong.

  I hate you! I hate you all! I want the White Knight!

  “You do remember.” Edward gripped her shoulder. “What happened, Alicia?”

  “I don’t know.” A dull throbbing had begun under her temples, pulsing in time with her suddenly labored heartbeat. Her vision blurred, not with tears, but with pain like a vise against her skull. “I can’t see straight…”

  “Let me help you.” She felt the touch of Edward’s presence in her mind. All she had to do was open to him, let him see within her. He would help her understand what had happened. He would help her understand about the White Knight.

  NO!

  A bolt of force shot out of her, and the world spun. When Alicia could see again, she found herself sprawled on her back on the library carpet, blinking at the ceiling. She scrambled to her knees, gasping. Tears stung her eyes. Edward was on the other side of the room, staring at her in shock.

  “Oh, great God,” she whispered. “Edward, what have I done?”

  “No harm, Alicia,” he said, coming to her side instantly. He took her hands and helped her to stand before he folded her in his strong embrace. “I was too clumsy. I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t…I never meant…”

  “I know, I know. Hush now. It was not your fault. I was careless, and should be apologizing to you. I rushed you, and your power is so new awakened that when your mind rebelled to my touch, it did so strongly.”

  I wish you were dead! Her childish rage echoed back to her and she squeezed her eyes shut. That was long ago. That was not now. But it still felt terrifyingly fresh.

  “I could have hurt you.”

  “But you did not. Look.” Edward stepped back to arm’s length, but did not let go of her hands. “My pride is only a little dented.”

  “But…”

  “I am all right, Alicia.” He smiled down at her. “You have done me no harm.”

  She clamped her mouth closed around another “but.” Her knees trembled and she sat down again in her chair. Edward said he was all right and she must believe him. But why did her mind’s eye show him sprawled motionless on the ground? Worse—oh, far worse—why did she see herself walking calmly away from his still form, out into the darkness toward…toward…someone? A figure. A man in a white surcoat and armor that shimmered like pearls in the sunlight. That man held out his hand to her and smiled with unsurpassed sweetness.

  This was the White Knight. He was not some figment of a child’s imagination. He was real. She was as certain of it as she was of the beating of her own heart. He was real and he lived.

  And he was waiting for her.

  Sixteen

  Anger filled Edward as he watched the color drain from Alicia’s cheeks. He cursed himself thoroughly, in each of the half-dozen languages he spoke. He was supposed to be the one to guide her, and instead he had hurt and frightened her.

  “Alicia,” Edward began again, but a soft knocking at the door interrupted him. With an abrupt oath, he flung open the library door to find Luddington, the senior of his two footmen, standing with a silver salver balanced on his fingertips.

  “My apologies for disturbing you, sir,” Luddington said blandly to the anger Edward knew showed plain on his face. “But you asked that the post to be sent up the moment it came.” He held out the tray with its small stack of letters.

  Carstairs gritted his teeth and reined his feelings in tightly. He had indeed given that order. “Thank you, Luddington.” He took the letters. “But inform the staff there are to be no more interruptions until I ring.” Mrs. Graves’s luncheon would simply have to wait until he had settled things with Alicia. And if she wanted to scold him for it, that could wait as well.

  “Very good, sir.”

  Carstairs let Luddington step back before he closed the door, and this time locked it. He turned back to Alicia, fully intending to lay the post aside.

  “Is there anything for me?” she asked.

  A fresh oath formed in Carstairs’s mind. They had been on the verge of a discovery; he was sure of it. Perhaps even the key to all of Alicia’s past. If he pressed, he would have it. He would understand her, and with that understanding he would finally know whether or not he could trust her. He must know that. It was urgent. He was in greater danger from this lovely woman than he ever had been from any foe he had faced. Those others had threatened only to take his life. Alicia, with her beauty, her keen wit, her passion and her strength, threatened his heart. If she was in the clutches of the Fae, he had to know before he fell irretrievably into hers.

  At the same time, she was still pale. After the past two strenuous days, it might be advisable to let her recoup her strength and her nerves. He had just learned, painfully, that Alicia had her own defenses. If he tried to force them now, he might be making things worse for them both.

  Telling himself firmly this was the intelligent course, Carstairs sorted through the letters. There were only three. One addressed to him he recognized as being from Captain Smith. Another, written in a stiff man’s writing, he suspected to be from Alicia’s uncle. The last one was addressed to her, in a rather shaky girl’s hand.

  He passed the letter to her, and Alicia received it with grave thanks. She still looked too pale. He would give her time to read her letter and collect herself. Then they would try again to open her shuttered memory. He settled behind his desk to deal with his own correspondence.

  As he suspected, the first letter was from his captain. It was brief, and directed Carstairs’s attention to the second document folded in with the missive. That proved to be the marriage license. Edward looked at the forged license closely. It appeared complete in every respect, right down to his own signature in bold, black ink. He folded it carefully and tucked it into his inner coat pocket. He should keep it to hand in case Alicia’s uncles proved difficult. If what she told him about their general indifference to her condition was accurate, that might not be the case. Still, it was best to be ready. Apparently the captain thought so too, because the letter also informed Carstairs that an entry had been made in the register at St. Matthew’s church in Emerson Park, where the vicar was a fellow agent, and had been informed of the circumstances. The book would list Corwin and Miranda Rathe as well as Thomas and Lady Jane Lynne as witnesses.

  Edward lifted his gaze from the missive, intending to inform Alicia their cover as man and wife had been completed. But t
he words never formed. On the other side of the library, Alicia sat staring at nothing, with the letter lying open in her skirts.

  “Alicia, what is it?”

  “Verity.” She lifted the letter, and cast her gaze across it again. “She writes our aunt Mary has taken very ill. She begs I should come at once, if I am able.”

  Edward felt himself frown. Mary Hartwell was an old woman, and had seemed to be very nervous. Her falling ill should not be wondered at. But given what he now knew about Alicia’s past, he could not take anything regarding her three oldest aunts lightly. “Do you wish to go?”

  “I…Yes. Aunt Mary always tried to be kind to me, and Verity is distressed…There is no one else in the house she is close to. I should go.” Only the last three words were spoken with what Carstairs was rapidly coming to think of as Alicia’s usual level of decisiveness.

  “Alicia, are you worried about something? Tell me.”

  She shook her head. “I hardly know. Aunt Eugenia and Aunt Hester will have a great deal to say about my elopement. However, since we are, to all appearances, married, there is not much they can do. But…Oh, I am being ridiculous. I do not understand what I feel.”

  He rose to his feet and crossed the room. He laid his hand on Alicia’s shoulder, feeling unusually awkward. He wanted to speak comfort to her, but at the same time, he knew he was treading the finest line. Because this summons to Hartwell house might indeed be a trap. Just not for her. Carstairs clenched his other fist. He determined he would speak as if he were certain of Alicia. For this moment, there would be neither doubt nor duty between them.

  “Alicia, you must learn to trust yourself,” he said. “Understanding will come with time. Until then, your feelings have guided you very well so far, have they not?”

  Carstairs was utterly unprepared for the look Alicia turned toward him. Her amber eyes filled with trust and longing, and the sight of it seared him straight to his soul.

  “I’m afraid, Edward,” she whispered. “I’m afraid of what will be done to me if I walk back into that house. Especially when they see…” Her hand went to her throat.

  “I know,” he said. “But it is better this way, Alicia. Secrets give power into the hands of those who enforce them.” He laced his fingers through hers, and held on. “This may be our chance. If you can brazen this out, we will know who placed this enchantment on you in the first place. Once we know who did it, we can more quickly discover why it was done.” And if I must yet lose you, it’s better it be now. Before I see you looking at me this way again. Before I am made too weak to remember my duty.

  “Yes. I need to know why this was done to me.”

  “Remember also, you are no longer helpless, Alicia. You have begun to feel your own power, and you will not be alone. I will not permit anything to harm you.”

  “Thank you, Edward.” She took his hand and pressed it. “I think it would be wrong to leave Verity alone now, especially if it is true, as you say, that she’s a Catalyst.”

  “I agree.” Carstairs pulled on the bell. He had to get away from her, before she saw behind the fragile mask he had pasted on his expression. In another moment, his treacherous heart would have its way. Another minute and he would be roaring to the heavens and begging her to forgive his lies. He would be saying they should both run, run far and fast, to France or Vienna or the ends of the earth. To someplace the Fae and the Service could not reach them, where they could be together and he would not have to remember the absolute necessity of doubting Alicia.

  Because that necessity was surely killing him.

  “So, you get yourself ready, while I pen a note to Captain Smith.” And take care of a few other matters, he added to himself. He would not take Alicia back to Hartwell house without providing for both a quick exit and sturdy assistance. “Then we will go together to brave the wrath of Aunt Hester.”

  The door opened to admit Luddington. “Send Mrs. Talbot up to Lady Carstairs’s room,” Carstairs said. “We are going to visit her family.”

  Alicia got to her feet and shook out her skirts. Now Carstairs did turn, and as he watched her summoning her nerve, nothing could have stopped him from taking Alicia into his arms and kissing her firm-set mouth.

  “All will be right, Alicia,” he heard himself say. “I promise, you are not alone anymore.”

  She smiled again, and again he felt that bolt strike him deep. It shot past reason, restraint and doubt, to his aching heart.

  The feeling did not lessen at all as he closed the door behind her. He meant the promise he’d given her as strongly as he had meant any oath he had taken in his life. He would do anything to feel the lightning of Alicia’s smile and her trust again. It was past comprehension that such a simple thing could reach more deeply into him than all the desire she sparked, and yet, somehow, it did.

  He had thought himself in danger, but now he knew he’d underestimated the situation. He was already lost.

  Seventeen

  Alicia had to summon all her composure to keep from clutching at Edward’s arm as he walked them up the steps of Hartwell House. It was shameful to be hiding behind a man, even one supposed to be her husband. At the same time, she was grateful his presence saved her from having to speak. When Follett opened the doors, it was Edward who gave their names. To hear herself publicly introduced to the oldest family servant as “Lady Carstairs” caused Alicia’s conscience to twist uncomfortably. But, all things considered, it was the smallest deception that had been practiced in the tangled mystery that her life had turned into.

  That thought proved remarkably cold comfort, and Alicia attempted to distract herself by removing her bonnet and handing it across to the footman as Edward handed over his hat and stick before they were conducted into the salon to wait. It felt strange to be back in Hartwell House, like walking into a place one had dreamt, only to find it was real. The salon had always been a pretty room. It was lightly furnished, as was the current mode. Folios of engravings were laid out on the tables, and the curtains had been pulled back to make the most of the afternoon sun. Yet, looking about with her newly opened eyes, Alicia saw it was impersonal too. Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be, no less, but no more, either.

  She had just turned to Edward to remark on this, when Verity burst into the room.

  “Alicia!” Her cousin flew into her arms.

  “Verity!” Alicia hugged her tightly. “Oh, dear, I am sorry.”

  But Verity wasn’t listening. She had already pulled away and stalked directly up to Edward.

  “You!” she spat, glowering up at him. “I trusted you!”

  “I know, Miss Verity.” To his credit, Edward did not show so much as a hint of amusement at the furious girl in front of him. “And I am aware how I have abused that trust. I only hope that in time you will forgive me, especially once Alicia has explained all the circumstances.”

  “Hmph!” Verity drew herself up to her most regal stance and turned back to Alicia. “Alicia, you need to come upstairs now. Aunt Mary’s been asking for you.” As she said this, Verity’s outraged propriety melted away and her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “It’s very serious.”

  “Then I should go to her at once. Edward…”

  “Go,” he said. “I expect your uncles will want to speak privately, in any case, and it will be better to have that conversation over and done with as soon as may be.”

  But as Verity led her from the room, Alicia heard Edward’s voice speak softly inside her mind. Keep your eyes open, Alicia. Learn all you can.

  I will do my best, she answered in the same silent fashion. In return, she received a sensation of warmth and closeness that could have been a kiss.

  Verity closed the door, and favored her with a long, searching look. Alicia bit her lip as she followed her cousin to the staircase. Edward said Verity was a Catalyst. Had she somehow sensed what had passed between her and Edward? If she had, how could Alicia even begin to explain?

  Verity herself supplied a very simple a
nswer. “As soon as we’re alone, I expect you to tell me everything,” she breathed.

  “Oh, Verity, I am…” Alicia stopped, and peered at her cousin again. Even on the dim stairs, she could see Verity’s eyes shining eagerly. “You’re not really angry, are you?”

  “Of course I am!” Verity put her nose in the air. “But only because that man didn’t give you time to tell me what was happening. I would have helped you all I could, if I’d known. If, that is…” They had reached the first landing, and here Verity hesitated. “Alicia, you did want to go, didn’t you? He didn’t…force anything on you?” She lifted her fingertips and brushed the hollow of Alicia’s throat where the cinnabar brooch had rested for so many years.

  “No, and he never would.” Alicia took Verity’s hand and squeezed it. “He’s a good man, Verity, and I am beginning to care a great deal for him.”

  “I thought something was different. You’re in love, aren’t you? How wonderful!”

  “I think I must be, but there’s far more to it. I swear, I will tell you everything, but not here. We cannot be overheard.”

  At this, Verity’s eyes flew open wide. Alicia watched her struggle to rein in all her questions, but in the end, Verity nodded and they continued up the stairs to the third floor.

  The corridor was as dim and stuffy as Alicia remembered, but there was something else too. A sense of loss haunted its permanent twilight. Was this some new artifact of her own regrets and uncertainty, or had it always been here?

  She had no chance to make up her mind. Verity softly opened the door to Aunt Mary’s apartment. The curtains in the little sitting room had been closed and a huge fire burned in the grate. It was stifling. Louise, Verity’s oldest sister, glanced up from the ruffles she was basting to a new skirt. Her thin mouth pursed ever so slightly.

  “So, you’ve come back, have you?”

  Alicia forced her spine to remain straight. “As you see.”