Page 31 of Twelfth Night Sorcery (The Cambion Club #2)

Valance had spoken nothing but the truth when he told Honora he liked her.

Over the end of January and the beginning of February, he had done his best to get to know her, and he had discovered her to be excellent company.

Their tastes overlapped enough that it was not difficult to agree on which entertainments to attend.

Neither of them liked squeezes at which the entire ton tried to cram itself into a couple of too-small reception rooms. Both of them liked the theater.

Honora liked the opera more than Valance did, but he did not mind accompanying her.

And, to his very great relief, she seemed to like casual dinners or card games at Carrington House with his friends. He had no idea how he would have coped with a wife who disliked the Carringtons, and he was glad he did not have to find out.

On nights when they did not go out (which happened more often than not), Honora would join him in his room for a glass of brandy.

They sat by the fire and talked, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for hours, about all sorts of things: their childhoods, books, the latest gossip, or Valance’s challenges developing his system of runes.

Sir Isaac Grantly had been a moderately powerful sorcerer, and although Honora could not work magic, her father had taught her far more about the history and theory of magic than most non-magicians ever learned (or wanted to learn).

Consequently, Valance could talk to her about his magical work the way he might have talked to one of the magicians from his club.

Except he had never in his life wanted to do with his friends the things he liked doing with Honora in bed.

And she, thank God, seemed to enjoy them too.

He would not have delayed consummating the marriage so long if he’d known how good things could be between them.

In marrying Honora, he had, by some miracle, found a good friend who was also an enthusiastic bedmate. He had never expected that combination.

On some level, though, Valance feared his happiness might melt away with the changing of the seasons.

In his admittedly limited experience, infatuations ended in either heartbreak or disgust. If two people weren’t torn apart by circumstances, they eventually wearied of each other.

He knew perfectly well that there were people who remained contented partners until parted by death, but he might as well ask for the moon.

All he could reasonably hope for was to enjoy things as long as they lasted.

He resolved to gather his rosebuds while he could.

So, when the twelfth of February proved to be an unusually temperate day, he took Honora for another drive in the park.

Hyde Park had gotten more crowded. Those noblemen who took their parliamentary duties seriously were in town now, and some of them had brought their families.

It took even longer than usual to exchange greetings with everyone.

When they returned to the house on Curzon Street, their butler announced, “There is a young person waiting for my lady in the morning room.”

“A young person?” Valance repeated, mystified. Weller’s use of the word “person” rather than “gentleman” signified someone of dubious social standing. But Weller should not have allowed any unsavory callers into the house. Part of a butler’s job was turning away undesirable visitors.

“The person in question insisted that her ladyship would wish to see him. He identified himself as Mr. Rossini.” Weller wrinkled his nose over the very un-English surname.

Valance’s frown deepened. He knew no one by the name of Rossini.

But Honora gasped. “Rossini? What was the first name?”

“I believe it was Theodore, or possibly Theophilus? I am afraid I do not recall, ma’am. He carried no calling cards.” If possible, Weller’s distaste grew stronger, as if a stranger without calling cards must belong to the lowest dregs of society.

“Dora!” Honora shook her head, but a faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She fairly ran on her way to the morning room.

“I suppose you did well to let Mr. Rossini in,” Valance said doubtfully. “Her ladyship appears to know him.”

“So it seems.” Weller took Valance’s coat and hat, and Valance followed his wife, curious about this Mr. Rossini.

When he walked into the morning room, he found Honora embracing a slender young man who stood a few inches taller than she did. The stranger had black, curly hair that spilled over his forehead into his eyes. He greeted Valance with a cheeky dimpled grin.

“Er, how do you do?” Valance glanced from his wife to the stranger whom she apparently knew quite well.

“Oh, very well, thank you,” the stranger piped.

“Valance, this is my sister Dora.” Honora wrinkled her nose in disgust. “She does not always dress this way.”

Dora glanced down at her clothing and shrugged.

“These clothes are far more practical for travel than a walking dress, and people are less likely to notice a boy traveling alone.” She pulled a face.

“The only problem is one of the passengers on the stage thought I was a truant school boy. I had to make up a cover story on the fly.”

“Oh.” Valance did not know what to say about this staggering revelation. His first impulse was to question the relationship, given that the two siblings looked nothing alike.

But as he examined Dora more carefully, he saw that Dora’s eyes were a shade between blue and green—not quite the same color as Honora’s eyes, but close.

There was a similarity about the shape of their cheek bones, too, though Dora had a strong, cleft chin and a straight nose.

If Valance imagined her dressed as a young lady (admittedly a difficult task), he supposed Dora must be nearly as pretty as Honora, but in a different style of beauty.

“But what are you doing here, Dora?” Honora asked.

Valance thought that was a very good question. He looked at Dora expectantly.

“Oh, I ran away from home. That’s all.” Dora grinned, as if this were something to be proud of. “It’s been quite an adventure, Honora. I see now why you ran away too. I wish I had thought to do this years ago!”

Honora did not look pleased. “I ran away because I had to.” She shook her head reproachfully. “And I am of age, so there was nothing wrong with my leaving home if I wished. But you are a minor. Mother will probably send someone after you, to take you home.”

Dora dropped her smile. “No, she will not. I am not going back to Grantly Manor, and you can’t make me.”

The stubborn tilt of Dora’s chin reminded Valance forcibly of her sister. He suspected they were in for a long discussion.

“I wonder if anyone would care for some refreshments?” He glanced at Honora and raised his eyebrows.

Honora nodded. “Oh, yes, some sherry would be most welcome.”

“I would like brandy,” Dora suggested.

“No!” Valance and Honora spoke as one.

“You are too young for brandy,” Honora explained. “You may have ratafia or sherry.”

Dora’s grimace suggested she did not care for these traditionally feminine beverages. But Valance agreed with his wife. If this was how Dora behaved when sober, he had no desire to see her drunk.

He rang for Weller and ordered the drinks. Then he sat down and rubbed his forehead. He did not have a headache yet, but he thought it very likely he would have one soon.

“So, um . . .” Valance had no idea what the etiquette for such a situation was.

Ought he address the young person as Mr. Rossini, since that was the name Dora had given Weller?

Or would it be better to call Dora “Miss Grantly,” since she was Honora’s sister?

Was “Rossini” even Dora’s real surname, or was it an alias?

Her first name was the only thing he knew for certain. “Dora, if I may?”

“Of course, you may call me Dora,” Dora said happily. “You are my brother-in-law now. I mean, except for the fact that I am illegitimate. By law I am no relation to Honora at all.”

“Oh, I see.”

At that moment, Weller entered with a tray of drinks and a solemn expression.

Was it too much to hope that Weller hadn’t overhead Dora’s most recent words?

Given the slight widening of Weller’s eyes, it probably was.

Soon everyone in the servant’s hall would be talking about Lady Valance’s illegitimate sister who ran around the country in trousers.

Valance decided the most courteous thing to do would be to pretend this was all perfectly normal, as if he met his wife’s runaway natural siblings every day. He gestured to Dora to take a seat. Then he took a large gulp of brandy to fortify himself for the rest of the conversation.

“So, what brings you to London, Dora?” He was proud of how casual his voice sounded, despite how much the unexpected visitor had startled him.

“The same thing that brought Honora here. I had to escape dire peril.” For someone in dire peril, Dora sounded surprisingly cheerful. To look at her, one would think she was on holiday.

“What dire peril?” The line between Honora’s eyes showed she took the claim more seriously than Valance did.

“Your mother was going to send me into service,” Dora explained. “She was about to ship me off to work as the stillroom maid at Hetherage Hall.”

“A servant?” Honora sounded horrified. “You? She would have done better to send you to finishing school!”

Valance could not picture Dora at finishing school. Did a school capable of “finishing” Dora even exist? Doubtful!

But something else troubled Valance more. “Hetherage Hall belongs to the Duke of Belmont,” he announced. It was one of the duke’s smaller properties, located in the Lake district.

“Oh no,” Honora gasped. “That cannot be a coincidence.”

“I agree.” He finished off the last of his brandy and set the glass down. He had better stay sober for this conversation. “But why would the Duke of Belmont want Dora as his maid?”

“To punish me for running away from him.” Honora spoke in a small voice, averting her eyes. “I made the mistake of telling him that Dora was my best friend in all the world.”

“What a wretched man.” Really, it was most unfortunate that Valance had not shot Belmont when the duke called at Russell Square.

“The duke isn’t the only one to blame. Lady Grantly agreed to the plan, after all.” Dora scrunched up her face. “In any case, going to Hetherage Hall was out of the question. If the duke is so dangerous that Honora ran away rather than marry him, I thought I ought not to work at his property.”

“Very likely right.” Valance did not like to guess at the duke’s motives, but they could not be good. Honora was probably right that he meant to punish her by hurting her sister.

“But why are you dressed that way?” Honora asked.

Dora’s grin returned. “To prevent myself from being recognized, of course! I got the idea from you.”

“From me?” Honora sounded startled.

Dora nodded. “In your letter to me, you said you were glamoured to look like a man to get away from Belmont Court. I thought that was a good idea, so I wanted to do the same. But I didn’t know any disguise spells, so I borrowed this outfit from Tom Roble. He helped me cut my hair, too.”

When put like that, it did seem logical. Perhaps Dora was more sensible than Valance’s first impression. She had, after all, been successful in her escape attempt.

“But it must not have been a good disguise, because you recognized me right away, didn’t you, Honora?”

Honora rolled her eyes. “Of course, I recognized you! I know you too well. I could identify you by your aura, no matter what disguise you wore.”

“Oh, right. But most magicians cannot read auras, so maybe it is a good disguise after all!” Dora’s face brightened again.

“I hope you brought other clothes with you, though.” Honora shook her head as she studied Dora’s garments. “Those do seem to fit you nicely, but I don’t see how I can introduce you to my mother-in-law dressed like that.”

All the blood drained from Valance’s face. He had completely forgotten about his mother. She must be dressing now, but she would, of course, dine with them shortly. And she would have to be introduced to Dora.

His stomach churned as he imagined how that meeting might go.

Valance’s mother had many prejudices and Dora would offend several of them at once.

Mother did not like foreigners, she did not think gentlemen’s by-blows should be allowed to circulate in polite society, and she thought a woman dressing like a man was an abomination unto the Lord.

“I wonder,” Valance suggested as tactfully as he could, “If Dora might feel more comfortable staying at a hotel?”

“Oh, that might be fun,” Dora said.

But Honora turned her elegant frown towards Valance. “Why can’t my sister stay here? Is she not welcome at our house?” Her grip on her wine glass tightened.

Damnation. “Of course, she is welcome here!” No other answer was possible. He could no more turn away his wife’s sister than he could turn away his own mother. But how on earth could both those people be accommodated in the same house? Such a conjunction might bring about the end of the world.

“I did bring some gowns. In fact, this is the only boy’s outfit I have with me.

I can change into a dinner dress if you like.

” Dora studied her garments, looking wistful.

“I did think this waistcoat rather charming. Such a pretty color! But I suppose trousers are not at all the thing when dining with new acquaintances.”

Valance relaxed slightly. “Good idea. I think that would make introductions a little easier.” He would still need to speak to Mother in advance, to prevent her from saying anything she shouldn’t.

“But Dora, what about your hair?” Honora asked. “You have cut it so short!”

Dora ran a hand through her curly crop. “Yes, isn’t it divine? I like it much better this way. So much more comfortable, and it will be easier to care for! I think I shall wear it like this all the time.”

Honora looked unconvinced. “I liked it the way you used to wear it. You had such lovely ringlets! But I suppose it is your hair, not mine.”

“My lady,” Valance suggested, “perhaps you would like to show your sister to the Rose Room?” This being a small house, that was the only empty guest room they had. “I had better speak to my mother.”

“Oh yes,” Honora agreed. “Dora, you will want a chance to freshen up.”

The moment the sisters were gone, Valance buried his face in his hands.

He allowed himself only a moment to despair.

Then he got up to go change into evening clothes.

Most likely, Mother would be finished dressing soon, and he would have a chance to speak to her—assuming he could figure out the right thing to say.