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  Carstairs tried to think clearly about Alicia. But what came at once to mind was the sensation of her soft ass pressed against his groin; the warm curves of her body, which was both strong and delicate, in the circle of his arms; the light touch of her palm directly over his heart. A hot shudder ran up his spine, and his cock twitched again, as if angry at being reminded what it could not have. Damn it, he was too old, too seasoned, to be distracted by a woman’s body when there was work to be done. Especially when that work involved the woman herself.

  Smith regarded him carefully. “It’s a delicate game to be playing, Carstairs, and not entirely a gentlemanly one. If you prefer, we’ll use another route, and organize a credible way to dissolve the engagement so it brings no discredit on the lady.”

  That, of course, would be safest. His thoughts about Alicia Hartwell were already leading him in dangerous directions. It was more than the stirrings of lust that worried him. It was the stirrings of pity and genuine admiration. He sensed a strength and sorrow in Alicia that were both unexpected. He’d come here because he needed to report to his superior, but also because he wanted to help her. This, of course, was a natural reaction to finding a prisoner. But the Fae played upon the finer emotions—chivalry, generosity, love and desire, as well as the base feelings of greed and lust. Was Alicia Hartwell truly a prisoner, or a honeyed trap? Could she be both?

  “Well, Carstairs?” asked Smith.

  Carstairs opened his mouth, uncertain what he would say. In that moment, an idea came to him that was audacious, fully formed and very, very dangerous.

  “Sir…one way to avoid a trap is to spring it early. It throws the enemy into confusion and makes them careless.”

  Smith’s eyebrows arced in a rare expression of surprise. “Do you think you can spring the trap of Alicia Hartwell?”

  “I do. The family has gone through a great deal of trouble to make sure this is a public and proper engagement. They have kept me away from Alicia, and they are counting on having three more weeks of us apart while the banns are published. What if we were married sooner?”

  “An elopement?”

  Carstairs nodded. Smith steepled his fingers and gazed off into the distance. When he spoke, it was slowly and guardedly, as if he had to examine each word before it could be uttered. “There is every possibility someone in her family laid this enchantment over her, either through exercise of their own powers or by opening the way for a Fae agent. It might indeed be worthwhile to separate her from them.” He paused. “The Hartwells will pursue you, of course.”

  Carstairs shrugged. “Let them. They’ll be expecting me to take her to Gretna Green. But I shall have her safe in my London house until we can be sure of her…condition.”

  “If she has been touched by the Fae or their agents, she could be extremely dangerous. Your house is fully warded?”

  “Of course.”

  “We’ll double-check that. Very well.” The captain grew brisk. “You may put your plan into action. Let us know what assistance you require.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Carstairs bowed and turned to go.

  “Be careful,” said the captain to his back. “You have hardened your heart in these past years, but the Fae Queen and her subjects are expert at cracking such stones.”

  “I will be careful,” Carstairs replied without turning around. He did not want his captain to see he was less than confident as he spoke those words.

  He retrieved his hat and stick and stepped out into the dark street. The night air was warm and heavy with approaching rain. No cabs or chairs were in evidence at this hour. He’d have to walk home. But Carstairs found he didn’t mind. Exercise and fresh air would help him think.

  He had watched Alicia in the conservatory before she became aware of his presence. He had seen how she shivered and stared at the couple in the arbor, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. This was not the reaction of a sheltered miss whose delicate sensibilities were shocked by the sight of a man devouring his intended’s pussy. Far from it. It was the struggle of one who’d lost the power of movement, because the sight of such erotic abandon held her fascinated.

  It was a fascination he himself understood very well. Even now, as he replayed the whole scene in his mind, Carstairs felt his cock swell, fast and hard. Imagination enhanced memory. He stole up behind Alicia, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. In his less gentlemanly moments, he had always suspected his bride-to-be concealed a sweet and shapely ass under her skirts, and now he knew he’d been correct. She would sigh and rub against him, letting his hands roam freely across her belly and breasts while together they watched Julian disrobe and Melissa lay back, stroking herself to see how her man had grown so hard from pleasuring her. Melissa would part her thighs and her folds with her white hands, showing Julian how wet and ready she was. Carstairs would find Alicia’s pussy with his hand. He would press her and cup her, all the while rubbing his cock against her ass until she moaned and begged in harsh whispers for him to lift her skirts.

  And if he did not stop thinking like this, he was going to be good for nothing but a visit to Mrs. Hamilton’s house, which catered to those who shared a taste for watching, and being watched.

  At the time, Carstairs had thought he was witnessing his fiancée discover a secret desire of a sort he happened to share. But now he had to consider the evening’s events in a different light. What if Alicia’s feelings had not been genuine? What if her desire had been magically imposed on her in order to lure Carstairs closer?

  But that made no sense, because that desire had been what alerted him to the subtle enchantment in the first place. He’d felt it straining to hold her in check as she returned his kiss. And if the enchantment’s purpose had been to bring him closer, why had her family kept them apart?

  As Carstairs turned all this over in his mind, a fresh idea came to him. He smiled sharply at the darkness as he reversed his direction, heading now for a very different neighborhood of the city from the one that held his family’s London home. It seemed he needed to visit to Mrs. Hamilton’s house tonight after all.

  Four

  When Alicia came downstairs the next the morning, only part of the family was at the table. Custom and convenience made breakfast at Hartwell House a relatively casual affair. Her aunts Hester, Eugenia and Mary occupied the far end of the table. Alicia’s older, married cousins Henry and Francis sat at the other end with her guardian uncles, Morris and Gavin. The men talked in their dull, laconic way of horses and racing. Arthur and Lucius were probably still in bed, kept there by an excess of drink. Hortence, Louise and Julia were also probably still in bed, but from nerves and an excess of delicacy rather than drink.

  Only Verity did more than turn a head as Alicia entered the dining room. “Good morning!” Her cousin smiled up at Alicia from her seat exactly halfway between the uncles’ camp and the aunts’.

  “Good morning, Verity,” Alicia said, helping herself to muffins and fillet of sole from the sideboard. Verity’s face fell. Clearly, she’d been expecting something more, but Alicia had no idea what that might be. It wasn’t as if Verity needed any news from last night’s ball. Verity had been at her side almost the entire time that Alicia could remember.

  “It’s about time.” Aunt Eugenia sniffed. Alicia had never heard her speak of anything in tones of approval, much less seen her smile. “We were beginning to think you were having the vapors or some such nonsense after last night.”

  “Wasn’t it all lovely?” Aunt Mary beamed. She was the smallest and plumpest of the aunts, and always sounded cheerful. Even Alicia, however, could tell that cheerfulness was a pretense, and she had never understood it. Perhaps the little, round woman felt she had to make up for her older sisters’ unrelenting severity. “And you did conduct yourself very well, Alicia. I’m sure Lord Carstairs considers himself a very fortunate man this morning.”

  “So we all hope,” said Aunt Hester quietly. “What is your opinion on the subject, Alicia?” Aunt Hester turne
d her hooded eyes to her nieces.

  She’s looking for something, Alicia thought. She’s always looking for something.

  “Lord Carstairs will feel and behave just as a gentleman should,” Alicia said aloud. And he had. They had danced and conversed and…and…there had been something else, but Alicia found that, unaccountably, she could not remember what it was.

  “You have no regrets? No sudden attack of nerves?” Aunt Hester’s eyes narrowed.

  “None, Aunt. Why do you ask?”

  Aunt Hester lifted her coffee cup and smiled. That smile seemed to Alicia even thinner and sharper than usual. Aunt Mary was looking down at the crumbs on her plate. Verity shivered.

  “No reason.” Aunt Hester sipped her coffee and set down the cup. “But I am very glad to hear it. I should be most disappointed if anything were found to be wrong at this stage. Most disappointed indeed.”

  “But nothing could possibly be going wrong,” said Aunt Mary quickly. “Everything is already in place. We’re just waiting on the banns…”

  “Oh, do stop babbling, Mary,” snapped Aunt Eugenia. “One would think…”

  Exactly what one would think, they were not to discover. The door to the breakfast room opened, and the footman entered bearing the morning’s letters.

  “Oh, the post. Excellent.” Verity jumped to her feet. She retrieved the letters with thanks to the servant. She handed most of them to Alicia’s uncles, who received them dutifully and uninterestedly. Then Verity returned to her chair, sorting through the smaller stack she’d kept. “Why, here’s a note for you, Alicia! I think it’s from Lord Carstairs.”

  “Who else would be sending Alicia notes in the morning, I should like to know?” snapped Aunt Eugenia. “Read it, girl. What does he say?”

  Edward—Lord Carstairs. When did I begin to think of him as Edward?—had a good hand, strong and precise. Alicia had a sudden and clear vision of him sitting at a neat desk as he wrote. A sailor, being used to confined quarters and the rocking motion of a ship, would be a man of tidy habits. That understanding was most satisfactory to her, although she could not have said why.

  Aunt Eugenia was staring hard at her. Alicia realized she had not begun to read as instructed. She blinked and focused on the words in front of her. She found she did not particularly want to read out whatever Edward might have to communicate to her. Odd. She was not used to having anything to keep to herself. Her flaws and secrets had always been so well known by all her relatives. “He thanks me for the dances last night; there are some remarks about how well the party went…”

  “Oh, give it here.” Aunt Eugenia snatched the letter from her fingertips.

  “Aunt Eugenia!” shrieked Verity. “That’s Alicia’s private letter!”

  “Tush.” Aunt Eugenia waved the paper to brush back her words. “When she’s married, she can be private. Not before. Hmmm…hmmm…yes. Yes. Good.” She handed Alicia back the letter. Alicia stared at the paper. Her chest felt tight. Her cheeks felt hot. Something was wrong with her stomach, and it seemed to have affected her vision, because now she could not read at all.

  “He says he hopes to call on her this morning,” said Aunt Eugenia to the other two aunts.

  “Well.” Aunt Hester set her cup down silently on its saucer. “You’d best get yourself ready, hadn’t you, Alicia?”

  “Aunt Hester, please, give her a moment,” said Verity, but in tones much softer than she usually adopted. “She’s barely had a morsel.”

  “She can eat—” began Aunt Eugenia.

  “When I am married. Yes. Thank you, Aunt.” Alicia got to her feet, folding her letter with quick, precise motions. “I’ll go get ready now.”

  She strode out of the room before anyone else could comment, or object. The truth was she was glad to escape the breakfast table. She needed a chance to think. Something had happened last night; she was certain of it. It was something untoward and uncomfortable, but try as she might, Alicia couldn’t remember what it had been.

  Perhaps I had too much champagne? Alicia fingered her brooch uneasily as she climbed the stairs and entered her room. No, that couldn’t be it. She’d have a headache. Cousin Raymond always had a headache when he drank too much. Then what?

  Alicia closed her door behind herself and drifted to the center of the room, frowning hard. She remembered the ball; she remembered dancing with Edward…Lord Carstairs, and sitting with him at dinner. His conversation had been excellent, his manner polite and deferential. He’d talked politics with the uncles and about the Season with the aunts. Indeed, he had behaved exactly as one would wish. Then he’d had to leave, a matter of government business, he’d said, and she’d had to return to the ballroom to make his excuses.

  Return to the ballroom? Alicia froze in place. When did I leave the ballroom?

  A knock on the door startled Alicia out of her reverie. It was Verity, carrying a tray that held toast spread with marmalade and a cup of tea.

  “Here.” Her cousin set the tray down. “I don’t care what Aunt Eugenia thinks. You have to eat something.”

  “Thank you, Verity.” She looked at the plate of toast, but could not arouse any interest in its contents. Her stomach was clenched too tight.

  “Are you all right? Only you seem distracted this morning.”

  “I always seem distracted.”

  “Yes, but this is a bit much even for you.” Verity laid a hand on Alicia’s arm. “Truly, Alicia, are you well?”

  “You mustn’t worry about me, Verity.” Alicia remembered she should pat Verity’s hand for reassurance, and did so.

  “I do worry. You’ve no one to look out for you, not really.”

  “Lord Carstairs will look out for me.” Alicia paused. Where had those words come from? More than that, where had the certainty behind them come from?

  “I hope so. You…you are glad to be marrying him, aren’t you, Alicia?”

  “As much as I can be.”

  “At least it will get you out of this house,” Verity muttered. “I swear sometimes it’s as if I can’t breathe in here.”

  At these words, Alicia’s throat closed. She had not permitted herself to think that she would really and finally be leaving Hartwell House, which meant leaving Verity. What would she do without her one understanding cousin to stand by her?

  “You’ll have to come visit me,” said Alicia. “Often. We can have you out to the country to stay in the summers. I’m sure his lordship will allow it. They say his estate is quite beautiful.”

  “I’d like that.”

  A fresh knock sounded on the door. “Alicia!” came Aunt Eugenia’s shrill voice from the other side. “Lord Carstairs is here! He’s waiting.”

  “Oh, lor’!” Verity rolled her eyes. “I’ll go down. You’d better get yourself dressed before Aunt Mary expires of apoplexy. And have some of that toast!” She whisked out of the room.

  Verity was right, as usual. Alicia needed to set aside her inconsequential thoughts of last night and concentrate on this moment. A vision of Edward’s face, and his keen gray eyes, flashed in front of her mind’s eye. Her skin remembered him being very close to her, and her heart wanted him closer. She remembered the shape of his mouth, strong yet sensual. And there was something more, something stronger.

  Alicia shook herself. She was woolgathering. She needed to get ready. Lord Carstairs was expecting her, and it was important she not disappoint him.

  “…I can’t think what on earth is keeping the girl,” said Mary Hartwell, the smallest of Alicia’s maiden aunts, for the hundredth time. She knotted a lace handkerchief in her stout fingers and her attention always seemed to be flitting in six directions at once. Her gray hair was done up in what had surely been a severe and tidy knot that morning, but now curling locks strayed out from under her cap. As a girl, Mary Hartwell might have been sweet and vivacious, but age had turned her simply nervous. Age and, Carstairs suspected, the stern rule of her older sisters.

  Indeed, Carstairs was surprised that only
Mary was sitting with him in the sunny morning room. During his previous visits, he’d had to contend with all three of the maiden aunts. They were, Alicia had told him once, actually her great-aunts, and they were as daunting a trio as ever a man faced. Especially Hester Hartwell, with her hooded eyes and thin, dry smile. The brothers, Gavin and Morris, might have ownership of the house and management of the money, but it was Aunt Hester who ruled the family, and she did not care who knew it.

  Any other morning, Carstairs might have been relieved by Hester’s absence, but now that he knew about Alicia’s enchantment, he found he wanted to speak to Aunt Hester and get a closer look at her keen eyes. For if anyone in this house knew what mystery surrounded Alicia, it was she.

  The door opened. Miss Hartwell jumped and turned in her seat at the same time. “Ali…Oh, it’s you, Verity. Where is Alicia?”

  “She’ll be down in a moment,” Verity replied.

  Carstairs got to his feet and made his bow to Alicia’s cousin. Verity was a slender girl of eighteen or so. Unlike most of the Hartwells, Verity was darkly complected, but she had a strength about her that took well to the color. She already carried herself with pride and assurance, and would grow, Carstairs was sure, into a formidable woman.

  As if to prove his observation, Verity gave Carstairs a brief curtsy, then sailed straight past her aunt to fix him with a hard glower.

  “The roses are in bloom in the garden,” Verity said, her eyes never wavering once from his. “Perhaps Lord Carstairs would be interested in seeing them?”

  “Verity, really—”

  Plainly, this was not the time to defer to the sensibilities of a timorous spinster. “Thank you, Miss Verity.” Carstairs bowed once more, effectively cutting off whatever protest Aunt Mary meant to make. “I would enjoy that.”

  “You’ll tell Alicia where we are, Aunt? Thank you.” Verity breezed out the French doors. Carstairs bowed again to Aunt Mary, who pressed her knotted handkerchief to her mouth as if she’d witnessed some ghastly horror. Then he followed Verity out into the garden.