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“Yes, baloney! So, I told Fenmore I only needed two days to prove to him that mortal kindness does exist. You showed me kindness by picking up my glasses when sixty other people that day passed me by, failing the very same test.”

Her pink lips dropped open. “ Sixty? Sixty people passed you before me? And none of them helped you?” She kicked the tip of her black shoes against the ground before groaning. “Why are you like this, New York?”

“Because mortals have a tendency to be selfish and judgmental,” Fenmore chimed in, his voice sounding somewhat level despite the panic he was feeling, but he was a lord and a gentleman. She raised a brow at him as he bowed stiffly. “Lord Fenmore Majos, Miss…?”

“Bette Fellowes, or Elizabeth if we want to stand on formalities.” She seemed to be mocking him as she dipped into a curtsey, but there was a glimmer of life in her eyes that hadn’t been there when she’d arrived, and he rather enjoyed it.

That’s a problem.

She sniffed, curiosity and conflict passing over her face. “Say I believe you. Say I believe that this is some sort of magical world, and you two aren’t mortal, and that towel just healed your eyes in two seconds…What are the terms of the bet?”

He gaped. “After all this? That is your first concern?”

She shrugged.

He rubbed his temples, an aching pressure building there. “It wasn’t serious, it was the result of an argument.”

But it was no use. His mother was already guiding Elizabeth down the hallway to the main sitting room.

“If we win the bet, Fenmore must spend a year in the mortal realm. Most of the magical beings here do at least a year or two so they can understand a world without magic, but my stubborn son refused and now he’s emotionally stunted. ”

“Mother!” Fenmore growled.

The light of the sitting room spilled in as they passed a broom sweeping on its own and a pen corresponding to letters from tenants and fellow lords. “See? He’s so angry! My goodness.”

Fenmore rolled his eyes, walking past both to open one of the windows.

He was beginning to feel cloistered with so many adversaries in one room.

It became even more necessary when he brushed past Elizabeth, a prickling sensation going up his arm at the contact.

His eyes widened, as did hers, before they both quickly looked away.

Elizabeth took a seat and accepted a glass of water from Jorge with a small smile and a polite, “Thank you so much.” Her wide brown eyes turned to Fenmore. “And if we can’t prove it? What do you get if you win?”

He grinned at her and watched in satisfaction as she sucked in a sharp breath. “I never have to go to the mortal realm, nor does anyone else on my lands…and, of course, the joy of being right. Mortals are selfish and self-serving to their core.”

This seemed to anger her. Color rose to her face as she stalked forward, poking his chest with her smallest finger, a challenge in her eyes. “You’re going to eat those words, Fender.”

The laugh that surged out of him was so quick and unexpected, it startled him. “It’s Fenmore.”

“Whatever. By the time I’m through with you, you’ll have mortal kindness shooting out your butt.”

Another startled laugh shook him, and his mother joined in, looking far too gleeful for comfort. “So, you’ll do it?”

Elizabeth nodded, resolved. “Yes.”

Fenmore grinned now, knowing how fruitless this task was about to become for both his mother and this strange woman with her daunting eyes. “You are down to a day and a half. I look forward to watching you fail.”

Elizabeth grinned herself. “How funny.” She planted her hands on her hips, drawing his attention to the gentle curves there.

“I was going to say the same to you.”

CHAPTER 3

B ette was still unconvinced that she hadn’t been drugged or wasn’t suffering some sort of psychotic break that had resulted in a very elaborate illusion of being dragged to a magical place with seemingly human people claiming to be immortal.

But she’d tried to blink it away enough times that the act had begun to give her vertigo and ended up being pointless, because the immortal people still stood there.

One was the old woman with an oddly comforting warmth and the other was a man…

who was quite unfortunately very attractive.

He looked like an actor; someone you’d see on the screen and think was good-looking in that unreal, unattainable sort of way.

It only mildly helped that he didn’t seem to carry himself like that.

He didn’t appear to understand the magnetic power he possessed behind the ice blue of his eyes or the sharp planes of his face.

Bette unfortunately didn’t have that level of ignorance. His beauty was grating and lit a fire under her skin that she hadn’t thought herself capable of feeling any longer. The emptiness of grief abated for a moment to make room for other feelings, like outrage, anger, frustration, lust…

Scratch that last one.

She sat in the magical parlor, watching the broom sweep its way back and forth, mild alarm melded with amusement.

Louise – or at least she assumed that was her name, based on the mutterings of their butler – had exited the lavish sitting room promptly, leaving her alone with the man who was staring a hole in her head like she was a zoo attraction. “Why are you staring?”

He lifted an auburn brow. “Why are you ?”

She narrowed her eyes and clicked her tongue. “Why don’t you believe in mortal kindness, Fender?

He let out a world-weary sigh. It made her a little giddy. “I told you, it’s Fenmore.”

“You’re evading the question.” She sniffed; the air smelled like freshly baked pastries and flowers, likely wafting in from the large garden outside.

She was beginning to affirm to herself that this world had to be real, because despite her love for stories, Bette’s imagination simply didn’t stretch this far.

Fenmore took a seat in the ornate chair across from her, folding his arms. His posture was ramrod-straight like he was fresh out of one of her mother’s old Regency novels. “I have seen nothing to the contrary.”

“You have never been to the mortal world. Of course you haven’t.” Bette rolled her eyes as the polite butler with the crinkled hands and warm smile set down a plate of blueberry scones. She gave him the same beaming grin she gave anyone offering her pastries. “Thank you, this is very kind.”

“Of course he is.” Fenmore gave her a cocky smile that she had a feeling he did just to anger her. “He’s not mortal.”

She laughed, a snort coming out of her nose. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn his eyes lit up, his head perking like he’d heard something worth listening to. “Are you saying because your world is full of magical beings, it somehow makes you morally superior?”

The light she thought she’d seen flickered out.

He stood and turned away from her, pretending to inspect a book on the large wooden bookcase in the corner.

“The people in our realm, the immortals, the magics if you will – we see each other as a unified community. Everyone takes care of each other, and everyone helps whoever is in need.”

She stood now too, walking toward him. Something about his voice struck a chord inside her. Almost as if something within him was calling to something within her. “How can you know mortals don’t do the same?”

“Because they didn’t when my father did his year-long stint in the human realm.”

He turned toward her and she sucked in a breath; his blue eyes were hardened like ice.

“A mortal hit him while he was driving one of your vehicles. They had consumed alcohol and, despite your laws decreeing otherwise, they got behind the wheel.” It hurt her beyond comprehension, the echo of pain in his eyes that she’d seen in the mirror for the last four months.

She waited for him to finish, still as granite.

“Because that mortal made such a selfish choice, the car hit the one my father was in.” His blue eyes glazed over. “And killed him.”

CHAPTER 4

I t was too much for Fenmore. The feelings he’d experienced reliving his father’s death all those years ago, the look of what he could only assume was pity in Elizabeth’s eyes, and in the room where his father had once told him stories of all the adventures they’d have. He couldn’t take it.

“Fenmore…” Elizabeth started, taking a step toward him, raising a tentative hand to his shoulder. He wanted to move away, but her intoxicating scent froze him in place. His brow furrowed as he stared down at her. “I’m s—”

He didn’t let her finish before he was shaking off her hand and walking in ground-eating strides for the door.

‘I’m sorry’ was a phrase he’d grown so accustomed to over the years, he could practically hear it ringing in his ears each night before he went to sleep.

Everyone was sorry when his father died.

His mother, the foolish driver, Jorge, the people on his land, and no one sorrier than Fenmore, who had lost his father and any chance at a normal childhood in one fell swoop.

“Wait!” she called; it reminded him of honey. Smooth, sweet, until it rotted your teeth and gave you a headache.

Fenmore yanked on the door and—it was locked.

NO . “She didn’t!” he growled, attempting to leave through the open window before he was thrown to the ground by the magical barrier his mother had put up to keep him from sneaking out as a child.

“Mother! Surely this is cheating!” he yelled, elbows propping him up.

Elizabeth appeared at his shoulder, crouching down, a soft look on her face as she winced apologetically. “She locked us in, huh?”

“She’s a menace.” He grunted, stiffening when he felt Elizabeth’s hand close around his arm. “I am sorry you were dragged into it. Despite your enthusiastic agreement.”