Page 4 of Twelfth Night Sorcery (The Cambion Club #2)

“You lied to me.” Valance, appalled by how close he’d come to a gross violation of both manners and morals, could say nothing more.

It was one thing to have a brush with a widow or a negligent husband’s philandering wife (though, before tonight, he had always avoided affaires with married women).

But only the worst of rakes would casually tumble into bed with a gently-reared maiden.

Such a liaison would destroy a debutante’s chances of a respectable marriage.

Valance clenched his hand into angry fists.

What the hell was this girl doing in a bedroom with a strange man?

Where was her chaperone? Was she trying to entrap him?

He’d heard rumors of girls so bent on capturing a husband that they were willing to trap a man in a compromising position to force a proposal.

He had always thought those stories were apocryphal, but that was the only explanation he could think of for Aphrodite’s intended seduction.

He broke into a sweat as he considered all the possible consequences of this tryst.

“What game are you playing?” His voice, thickened by panic, sounded more like a growl.

Aphrodite flinched. “As I told you, I am trying to escape an undesirable marriage.” She swallowed heavily. “I thought the best way of doing that would be to ruin myself, so B—so no one would want to marry me.”

“That’s the worst way of escaping an unwanted marriage!

My God!” He mussed his already-disarrayed hair again, half-wishing he could pull it out in dismay.

This plan was worse than anything he’d imagined.

“Don’t you realize that you will be an outcast from society forever?

Your family may disown you. And you will never marry. And . . and . . .”

He could not even begin to list all of the disadvantages of her scheme. It would ruin not only her name, but her family’s reputation. She would end up living in poverty with some maiden aunt in a god-forsaken village, never to be seen in society again. And that was if she was lucky!

“Yes!” She clenched her fists, as if she were starting to lose her temper, too. “I realize all those things. But it would be better to spend a lifetime as a disgraced spinster than to marry Belmont.”

Once again, Valance staggered. Quite literally, this time. He took a step backward and nearly stumbled. “Your parents want you to marry Belmont, when he’s already buried three wives?”

The duke must be nearly thirty years Aphrodite’s senior, and there was no getting around the fact that he was a very nasty customer.

Belmont was hard on his horses, short-tempered with his servants, and (if rumor was true) rough with his mistresses.

The only positive thing anyone could say about him was that he knew how to host a good party.

That was the only reason Valance had come to tonight’s masquerade.

Belmont was certainly not one of Valance’s particular friends.

“Yes.” She looked grim, and no wonder. “You see why I have to run away, don’t you? He told my mother that he intends to propose tonight.”

“I suppose I do see your point.” Valance rubbed his temples, feeling a headache beginning to build. He forced his jaw to unclench, hoping to stave off the pain. “But where do you intend to go?”

Aphrodite’s face brightened. “London, at first. Then to Bath, perhaps. I attended Miss Merton’s Academy near Bath, and I thought my old headmistress might hire me—”

“No one will hire you if you are ruined,” he interrupted. “No one wants a fallen woman teaching their children!”

She was going to end up on the streets if she ran off to London with no better plan than this. She probably did not have the skills for any position but that of governess or companion, both of which required an absolutely stainless reputation and sterling letters of recommendation.

Unless—“Are you a witch or sorceress? Have you some practical magical talent?” Magic could ease anyone’s way in the world. It might give her a chance for a new life.

But she shook her head. “I wish I did. I can see magic, but I cannot work it.”

“Unfortunate.” But he ought to have predicted as much. If she were capable of working powerful magic, she would have had more options, and would probably have come up with a better plan.

“Please, sir,” the nameless girl said. “Can you help me?”

Valance stared at her in dismay, wishing he had never set eyes on her. Or at least refused to leave the ballroom with her. No amount of physical attractiveness was worth this much trouble.

She must have read refusal in his face, because she sighed, and her shoulders slumped.

“At least, will you promise not to tell anyone about this conversation? You must realize that my safety rests in your hands now. If you tell anyone you saw me, or reveal my plans, I may not be able to escape.” She swallowed uneasily.

“As I said, I cannot pay you in money, but . . .”

“Of course, I will help you,” Valance said wearily. No woman deserved to be forced into marriage with the Duke of Belmont. But he could already tell this was going to ruin his plans for the week. If not for longer. “We had better go now.”

She blinked at him. “Go where?”

“London, of course. I live in a rather unconventional household,” he explained, “and my housemate’s sister lives with him. With us.”

Aphrodite, probably concerned about the proprieties, frowned.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he hurriedly interjected: “It’s not what you think.

” He could not explain the full situation, though; it was not his secret to reveal.

“I mean, Miss Carrington has a companion with her to maintain her reputation. It is all entirely above board.”

It was, in fact, entirely scandalous. People only tolerated Abigail’s behavior because she was an heiress, her godmother having left her a substantial fortune. And she did not care to move in tonnish circles.

“In any case,” Valance concluded, “you will not be the only lady in the household, so you need not worry about damaging your reputation.”

“But the whole point of this tryst was to ruin my reputation!” Aphrodite crossed her arms in front of her chest, boldly meeting his gaze. Whatever she lacked in common sense, she made up for in courage.

Valance shook his head. “You need a better plan.” She would not have hatched such a scandalous plot if she truly understood the long-term consequences of her actions. “But we can talk about that later. First, we should get out of here.”

Her plan for escape might have flaws, but her idea to use a concealment spell was a good one.

He tore a scrap off the paper with his light spell, thought for a moment, then scribbled a few words in Latin.

He had to combine elements from a few different spells, as he had never learned any disguise spells.

He hoped this cobbled-together script would work.

They did not have time to experiment or fine-tune the spell.

He handed the ensorcelled paper to Aphrodite. “Put that in your pocket.”

“What will it do?” She stared at the scrap of paper in her hand, then held it up to the still glowing witchlight. She squinted as if trying to read the words. But, not surprisingly, she seemed to make nothing of them. No one could read Valance’s handwriting.

“What I hope it will do is convince anyone who looks at you that they are seeing a young gentleman of nondescript appearance, rather than a young lady dressed as Aphrodite. But I have no idea whether it will work, because I have never cast such a spell before. It might not do anything at all.” It was only right to warn her.

To his eyes, Aphrodite still looked like a young woman.

He had no idea what other people would see.

“The spell worked,” she said confidently. “That is, your magic certainly did something. I just could not tell what.”

“Let’s hope it does what I want it to do.”

Whatever else the spell did, it had taken a good deal of power.

His headache was worsening, and his stomach rumbled ominously.

Working magic always made Valance hungry, and they had missed supper.

But he knew there would be no time for a snack.

Sooner or later, someone was going to notice that Aphrodite was missing from the ballroom and come looking for her.

“We should go now,” he told her. “I have no idea how long that spell will last. Come with me.”

She followed him obediently to his guestroom. His valet, Preston, slept on a cot in the corner of the bedchamber, there being no dressing room. Valance shook him awake.

“My lord?” Preston smothered a yawn. He glanced at Aphrodite and nodded politely before turning back to Valance. “Do you require my assistance?” It was not like Valance to wake Preston so late. Normally he would have undressed himself after a night of carousing.

“I am afraid it is a bit of an emergency,” Valance said apologetically. “We need to leave.” His original plan had involved staying the night so he could return home by daylight. That was clearly out of the question now.

“Oh. Before breakfast, you mean?” Preston sat up in bed.

Valance was relieved to see that his valet had at least kept his trousers on, though he had gone to bed in his shirtsleeves.

“Now, I am afraid. This very moment. As I said, it is an emergency. I will pack my own bags, if you will be so good as to rouse Gates and have him ready the carriage.” They were fortunate to have a bright, gibbous moon tonight—the roads ought to be safe enough for travel.

“As you wish, my lord.” If Preston had questions about the reason for this late-night departure, he kept them to himself.

Valance took off his mask and tossed it carelessly onto the dressing table. He longed to change out of the rest of his costume, but he could not do that with Aphrodite standing right there. He had to make do with covering his costume up with his greatcoat.

“Er, my lord?” Preston asked.

“Yes?” Valance glanced up from his packing.