Page 5 of Twelfth Night Sorcery (The Cambion Club #2)

“Does the situation demand secrecy?” Preston pitched his voice low, as if he feared someone might be eavesdropping outside the bedroom door.

“Yes,” Aphrodite said, before Valance could answer. “The fewer people who know of our departure, the better.”

Preston’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir,” he said, addressing Aphrodite. He seemed to genuinely think she was a man. Apparently, the disguise spell was a success.

Valance began to feel more hopeful. Perhaps they could make a clean escape.

Once he got to London, he would learn more about Aphrodite’s family.

There must be a grandparent, aunt, or uncle willing to take her in even if her parents wanted nothing to do with her.

But most likely, she exaggerated her parents’ determination to marry her off.

It was against the law to force a girl to marry against her will, wasn’t it?

At least, it ought to be. Probably all she needed to do was explain the matter clearly, and her parents would accept her decision.

They would have to be monsters to force her to marry a man like Belmont!

Valance grew increasingly confident about their chances of escape as it became clear that his coachman was also fooled by the disguise spell.

Gates, like Preston, had no clue that Valance’s traveling companion was a young lady rather than a young man.

No one stopped them or called after them when they left the hall and climbed into Valance’s carriage.

Preston sat up on the box with Gates, leaving the inside seats to Valance and his companion.

Only now did Valance realize how awkward it was to be alone with Aphrodite under these circumstances.

Merely an hour ago, she had tried to seduce him.

He supposed the gentlemanly thing to do would be to pretend none of that ever happened.

All things considered, it was just as well they had been interrupted before he could so much as kiss her.

“You might as well get some rest,” he suggested.

“It will take us a few hours to get to London.” That was why he had planned to stay the night at Belmont Court.

People came from all over the country for these parties, even though Belmont lived in an out-of-the-way corner of Kent.

Whatever his other faults, Belmont was a generous host.

“I know.” Aphrodite hastily covered a yawn. “If you don’t mind, I think I will try to sleep.” She leaned against the wall of the carriage and tucked the lap robe about her. Then she closed her eyes, and to all appearances, fell asleep quickly.

Valance stayed awake, too jolted by the rough road to slumber.

Instead of sleeping, he thought about how to reunite Aphrodite with her family.

For the first time, it occurred to him that by running off with her—traveling alone, inside a closed carriage, for hours—he might have already compromised her.

Of course, their time alone in a bedroom together would have been enough to compromise her, but he hoped no one ever learned of that.

Taking her home with him might be scandal enough.

There would be chaperones in Russell Square, but the two of them were unchaperoned now.

What would he do if her family demanded some sort of satisfaction from him?

What if her father or brother called him out?

What if they insisted Valance marry her?

Between Miss Manfield’s rejection last summer and Valance’s most recent quarrel with his mistress, he’d had enough of the fairer sex for now.

He was not sure he had it in him to pursue a new courtship.

Valance stayed awake the entire ride, searching for a solution that would allow Aphrodite to escape with her good name intact, while leaving him with his freedom. But the pounding of his head made it hard to think at all.

It must have been past three in the morning when they finally rolled up to the Carrington family’s townhouse.

Aphrodite still slept with the lap robe tucked about her.

She must be freezing, as she had not brought a coat with her.

Valance felt a pang of guilt. He ought to have either offered her his greatcoat or worked a warming spell for her. He had not even thought of that.

“We are here,” he said quietly. “Madam?” She did not stir, so he put a cautious hand on her shoulder and shook her awake.

“What?” She recoiled from him and stared back, wide-eyed. “Who are you? Where are we?”

“I am Lord Valance.” He used the same soothing voice he would have used for one of Roderick Carrington’s young daughters.

“We are in London, in Russell Square. Not far from the British Museum. I live here. We will tuck you into our spare bedroom and figure things out tomorrow.” Or rather, today, it being morning already.

But they could not solve her problem without a good night’s sleep.

“Oh, I see,” she said politely. “Thank you very much.” She sat up and tried to smooth her hair, which had long since tumbled out of her coiffure.

“My pleasure.” He was not at all pleased with the situation, but he could hardly admit as much.

Valance helped the stranger out of the carriage, leaving Preston to carry his valise. The townhouse’s front door was locked, but that did not matter. He carried a copy of the house key.

To his surprise, every candle in the front hall still burned. One of the Carringtons—Peregrine, not Abigail—lay on the marble floor, a piece of blue chalk in his hand.

Valance stared at his housemate. “God, Peregrine, what are you doing up?”

“Working magic.”

Valance rolled his eyes. He could see that much.

Peregrine had drawn half a pentacle on the floor.

On his right side was a pile of candles waiting to be lit, while several pouches of herbs lay on the left.

It looked like a major magical working. What Valance could not see was why the magic had to be done at three in the morning.

Peregrine often kept odd hours when he was deep into a project, but this seemed excessive even for him.

Before he could clarify his question, Peregrine continued.: “What are you doing here? I thought you were staying in Kent till tomorrow.”

“It’s already tomorrow,” Valance reminded him. “And I had to leave early. Due to an, er, emergency.”

“Yes, I needed to leave Belmont Court in a hurry.” Aphrodite gazed down at the pentacle, too.

“His Lordship was kind enough to transport me. Look, I don’t mean to tell you how to go about your business, but I think that line is a little crooked.

” She pointed to indicate one of the yellow chalk lines.

“Oh. So it is! Perhaps I messed it up because I haven’t slept tonight. Thank you for telling me.” Peregrine stared up at Aphrodite and cocked his head to one side. “Who are you, then? And why are you glamoured to look like a man?”