Page 35 of Twelfth Night Sorcery (The Cambion Club #2)

The day after Valance left, Honora moped about the house, not knowing what to do.

She felt so tired she lay down on the chaise longue to rest, instead of paying the morning calls she had planned.

She assumed her fatigue was due to staying up too late last night reading, until she discovered her courses had begun.

After that, she asked for a hot compress and took to the chaise with a book.

Where her monthly bleeding was, cramping and backaches would soon follow.

This was never her favorite time of the month, but it felt particularly bittersweet this time. She’d secretly hoped she might be with child, if only so she could learn what pregnancy was like. Discovering otherwise was a greater disappointment than she expected.

What, she wondered, could she and Valance do differently next month?

She did not think it possible to go to bed together more often, given that they had not missed a single night since the first time.

Should she get a fertility charm from a midwife?

Perhaps one of her married friends from school would have advice for her.

Didn’t Jane Crossly have a baby now? Maybe she would know what Honora could do to be more successful.

Honora got up from her comfortable place on the chaise longue to write a quick note inviting Jane to call next week.

It would be good to talk to another young wife about marriage, even if she was not brave enough to ask for advice on conceiving.

Probably there was no tried-and-true method, or else there wouldn’t be so many couples who wanted children and could not have them.

Still, Jane might have something to recommend.

When she’d finished the note, she went to the front hall to put it with the outgoing mail.

Had Valance been home, she would have asked him to frank it for her, but she saw no reason to delay sending it till his return.

When she reached the hall, though, she discovered a commotion in progress.

Weller was arguing with someone at the door.

“Lord and Lady Valance are both out, and even if they were at home, you could not see them. You had best be off. If you are in need of money, you must speak to His Lordship’s man of business.

” Weller, having had years of experience turning away unwanted visitors, had perfectly mastered the necessary calm-but-firm tone of dismissal.

“I do not want money,” an angry voice answered. “I want my dog back!”

Dog? Surprised, Honora drifted closer to the door. “Weller, who is it?”

The butler looked over his shoulder and shook his head slightly. “Nothing you need concern yourself about, my lady.” He began to close the door.

“You cannot turn me away like this, after two years in his protection! At least give me my dog!” the woman yelled. “Trou du cul!”

Honora frowned. What dog was she talking about? Bishop Barkley? Then that must mean . . . she gasped. She had assumed that Illegible Scribble was gone from her husband’s life forever. Apparently, she’d been mistaken.

She drew herself to her full height. “Weller, let the woman in. I would like to speak to her.”

Weller’s eyes almost imperceptibly widened. “My lady!” he protested. “I am very sure His Lordship would not like that.”

“His lordship would tell you to do as I say. Please open the door and let her in, that I may speak with her.”

With visible reluctance, Weller opened the door and ushered in the visitor.

The stranger swept into the room with a rustle of silk petticoats. “Thank you, my lady.”

A cold, sick weight filled Honora’s stomach.

If this was Illegible Scribble, she could see why Lord Valance had kept her for two years.

She was a beauty of a very different style from Honora: tall, voluptuous, rosy-cheeked, dark-haired and dark-eyed.

In nearly every way, she looked Honora’s opposite.

All they had in common, so far as she could tell, was their youth.

(Well, she supposed they both did have broad, curvy hips.

But Illegible Scribble had a more impressive bosom.)

“Can I help you, ma’am?” Honora strove to speak calmly, despite her roiling emotions. “I heard you mention a dog. Have you lost a pet?”

“Not lost.” The woman sniffed, as if she had a cold.

Or had been crying. “I . . . well, I sent my dog to Lord Valance to keep him for me while I was away from town, and now I want him back. He is my dog. His Lordship gave him to me.” She faced Honora with her chin lifted and her shoulders set squarely, prepared for a challenge.

Her aura showed no signs of magical abilities, but its strong, vibrant colors suggested a powerful personality.

“Describe the dog for me, please,” Honora suggested.

Before the woman could do so, Bishop Barkley trotted out of the morning room to see what all the hubbub was about.

The moment he glimpsed the stranger, his ears perked up.

He galloped towards her. He flung himself at her feet, jumping up and down in an attempt to properly greet her.

Illegible Scribble reached down and picked him up, and he began to wash her face.

Honora’s eyes blurred as she blinked back tears. So. This woman really was Illegible Scribble. This was the mistress Lord Valance had dismissed in order to marry Honora. This must be the style of beauty he really favored. And she could not possibly look more different from Honora.

“I see that Bishop Barkley does know you, ma’am.” There was no point in denying the dog’s identity. He had made it clear that he belonged with Illegible Scribble.

“Of course, he knows me. Lord Valance gave him to me two years ago this very day, as a Valentine’s Day gift.

” The former mistress glared at Honora. “You may find it hard to believe, my lady, but there was a time when His Lordship adored me. He worshipped the ground I walked on, wrote poetry in my honor, and showered me with gifts.” She sounded simultaneously proud and bitter.

“But men are fickle, as I am sure you will learn, and—”

“My lady,” Weller interjected, “I really think—”

“Weller, please leave us. I wish to have some speech with Miss . . .” Honora faltered as she realized she could not address the stranger as Illegible Scribble. What was she to call her, then?

Weller frowned, but he retreated, as she had requested.

“I am Miss Barbauld,” the woman supplied.

“And I need no introduction to you, my lady.” She scanned Honora from head to toe in much the same way Honora had studied her.

“I wish you joy of His Lordship. Heaven knows I couldn’t have put up with such an oaf much longer myself.

He never was quite to my taste, you know. ”

Honora gritted her teeth. “I will not listen to insults aimed at my husband. I merely wished to know if you needed any assistance.” She wished she’d listened to Weller. Speaking to Miss Barbauld had been a mistake.

“So very charitable of you, my lady. But no. I will take my dog, and that will be all.”

Barkley seemed to be in a rare state of bliss. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his tail kept lazily wagging. Honora’s angry heart softened at the sight. Perhaps he had missed Illegible Scribble all this time.

“I am sure you have missed him. The dog, I mean,” she added hastily, seeing a smirk on Miss Barbauld’s face.

“Yes, I have missed my baby.” Miss Barbauld kissed Barkley on the nose. He wagged his tail enthusiastically.

Little traitor! Earlier that day, he’d snuggled on Honora’s lap as if he belonged there. She had found his presence comforting in Valance’s absence. Now even that comfort was to be taken away from her.

Miss Barbauld caught Honora’s eye and hesitated for a moment. “I hope you realize it is all worthless,” she said softly. “Nothing but dust and ashes.”

“Really, madam, I have no idea what you mean.” Honora drew in a deep breath, intending to send Miss Barbauld on her way. There was no need for her to linger now that she’d gotten what she came for.

“I mean men’s affections,” Miss Barbauld clarified.

“Every endearment he whispers in your ear, he once whispered to me. Oh, the things he said to me to lure me down the primrose path!” She shook her head.

“He would show up in the green room after my performances, bearing the most expensive bouquets and the most extravagant compliments. I was young, na?ve, unused to such attention . . . naturally, my head was turned.”

A lump formed in Honora’s throat, and her eyes prickled. She did not want to hear any of this!

Miss Barbauld twisted her mouth into a bitter smirk. “He lured me away from the safety of a loving family, promised to care for me, and took my virtue, only to turn me out once he decided it was time to reform.”

“I am very sorry for any injury that may have been done to you, but really, I believe you have said enough.” Honora’s voice trembled. She could not bear to stand here another minute, hearing how her husband treated other women.

Miss Barbauld shrugged her shoulders gracefully.

Was that her theatrical training showing?

“Thank you for allowing me to take my dog. I have missed him. But as for Oliver? You may keep him, and much good may it do you. I hope you realize he will tire of you, too, sooner or later. And then he will no doubt haunt the green room at some other theater, tempting some other respectable girl to her ruin.”

“I think you had better go.” Honora used the firmest voice she could muster, though the ground beneath her seemed unsteady. No, that was her own body shaking with emotion. “Good day, Miss Barbauld. I must ask you never to come here again.” She hoped her trembling wasn’t visible.

“There is nothing else here that I want.” Miss Barbauld turned on her heel and walked out the door with Bishop Barkley in her arms.