Page 51 of Twelfth Night Sorcery (The Cambion Club #2)

As promised, Valance returned well before time to dress for the dinner party. Honora knew as soon as he walked into the morning room that his errand had been successful. He was whistling “The Parting Glass,” and his step sounded light and brisk.

He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “You need not worry about Bishop Barkley,” he said. “Cherie does not want him anymore. Her husband sneezes when he is around dogs, it seems.”

“Her husband?” Honora’s eyes widened. She had been under the impression that courtesans never married.

Valance nodded. “She married an actor from her troupe. A Mr. Thomas Sowerby.” He smiled ruefully. “I believe she has been sweet on him for some time.”

Valance sat down beside her and threaded his fingers through hers. His hand dwarfed hers, but she liked the sense of safety and security it gave her. She squeezed his hand in return.

Thinking of Cherie reminded Honora of something she had long wondered about but never been bold enough to ask. Perhaps now was the time.

“Valance, why did you let Miss Barbauld call you ‘Oliver,’ when you asked me to call you by your title?”

He stared blankly at her. “I thought I explained that! I wanted you to call me ‘Valance’ because that is what most of my friends call me.” Honora opened her mouth to ask another question, but he continued speaking.

“Cherie was my lover, but she was never my friend. You are both.” He averted his eyes, looking surprisingly bashful.

“You are the only woman who has ever been both.”

Honora, momentarily overwhelmed by the sweetness of his response, could only game. Then she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

He squeezed her hand tightly. “You can call me Oliver if you want to. But the truth is, I had rather be called Valance.”

“Then I will call you Valance.” She grinned up at him. “Except when I call you Valentine, of course.” She had not forgotten their conversation in the carriage the night they saw Twelfth Night. It had, after all, been a memorable evening.

He chuckled and kissed her soundly before insisting, “You most certainly will not call me that.” But he said it affectionately.

“So,” she said, returning to their original subject: “It sounds like Miss Barbauld—I mean, Mrs. Sowerby—is doing well? Is she happy with her husband, do you think?”

“I should think she was happier with him than with me. I don’t think she ever cared much for me. I believe she only took up with me for the sake of the money.” Valance said that matter-of-factly. Perhaps he had not been deeply attached to Illegible Scribble after all.

Honora could not argue with that. She still remembered the distaste with which Miss Barbauld had spoken of her former protector, though how anyone could call a man as honorable and tender as Valance an “oaf” was beyond her comprehension.

“Well, de gustibus non disputandum est,” she concluded. In matters of taste, there could be no disputes.

“Quite so.”

“You are to my taste,” she assured him. “I liked you the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Do you mean to say it was my devastating good looks that led you to choose me for your ruination scheme? At last, it all makes sense.” Amusement colored his voice.

“No,” Honora said bluntly. She had thought him handsome as soon as he smiled at her, but that was not what had first drawn her attention to him.

“I mean that I liked your aura. I have never been taught to read auras well, but I think I could see the . . . the . . . Valanceness of you, and I liked that.”

His aura must have hinted at some of the things that made him Valance: a man who was honorable, courageous, strong, and—in his own way—sweet. Just as she had been able to tell at first glance that Belmont was someone to be feared, she had sensed that Valance was someone who could be trusted.

“Tell me more about how much you like me,” he suggested.

But instead of talking, she kissed him, and they became so distracted that they were actually late for the dinner party. This would not have bothered Honora much, except for the sly jokes Lord Markham kept making about newlyweds. Was it really that obvious what they had been doing before dinner?!

*

Dora’s next letter begged Honora to come to Surrey for the much-anticipated meteor shower.

She wanted to show off her spell work, Honora guessed.

Well, it would be good to have a chance to tour Dreadnaught Hall at last. Valance had no objection, so it was settled.

They took a break in the middle of the Season to witness the astronomical event.

Thus, on a cool, clear night in the middle of April, Honora found herself shivering in her pelisse in a pasture on the Carrington estate.

“Why can’t we have a bonfire?” She rubbed her hands in a fruitless attempt to keep them warm. She had not brought thick enough gloves.

“The light would make it too hard for us to see shooting stars,” Dora explained. “But I don’t know why you’re complaining. It’s not too cold if you keep moving about.”

“You’re warm because you’re dressed so snugly,” Honora retorted.

Dora wore pantaloons, Hessian boots, and a men’s shirt, waistcoat, and topcoat, all cut to fit her well.

Over all that, she’d put on a greatcoat that had belonged to one of the Carrington brothers.

Honora thought it was a little odd that her sister continued to wear men’s clothing some of the time, but she could not deny that Dora’s garb looked warmer than the silk evening gown Honora wore.

“Where did you even get Hessian boots?” Honora marveled. They fit so well they must have been custom-made for Dora.

Dora grinned. “Peregrine bought them for me. He introduced me to his local bootmaker and his tailor.”

“Did he now?” Honora glanced over to where Mr. Carrington stood chatting with Valance and Miss Carrington.

Honora had only arrived in Surrey yesterday and had not yet had a chance to talk to Dora alone, but she had certainly observed that her sister had grown close to Mr. Carrington.

The dowager Lady Carrington seemed to be fond of Dora, too.

She spoke to her almost the same way she did to her daughters. Honora found that telling.

“When is this event supposed to get started?” Valance grumbled. “It is too cold to stand about in fields all night.”

Ah ha! It was not Honora’s imagination. Other people felt cold, too.

“It will happen when it happens, Valance. You can’t rush these things.” Mr. Carrington sounded surprisingly calm for someone whose major project of the last four months was about to be put to the test. “If it doesn’t happen tonight, I will be out here tomorrow night.”

“Well, I won’t,” Valance grumbled. “I had much rather be in bed.” He glanced in Honora’s direction and winked, causing heat to rush to her face. Hopefully no one noticed her blush in the dimly-lit pasture.

“We really need to extinguish all those witchlights you lot insisted on summoning.” Mr. Carrington projected his voice so it carried over half the pasture. “Or we will not be able to see the sky properly.”

The various witches, wizards, and sorcerers gathered in the field grumbled, but they did as he asked, plunging the group into deeper darkness.

Miss Taylor, who had been blithely ignoring everyone in favor of reading a book, complained the loudest. Abigail Carrington drifted toward Miss Taylor’s chair and chatted with her until she quit grumbling.

“I do wish Cosmo was here,” the dowager Lady Carrington said. “It would have been so nice to have the whole family together for once.”

No one answered her, probably because this was the third time she’d said that.

The first time, Miss Carrington had reminded her that Cosmo would be down in the summer for the Long Vacation.

The second time, Valance had promised that he and Honora would pay a longer visit when the Season ended.

That was when Honora realized that when Lady Carrington said, “whole family,” she had been talking as much about Valance as about her actual children.

Valance seemed to take Lady Carrington’s affection for granted. Did he know how lucky he was to have this second family in addition to his own? Honora would have given a good deal to have had such support when her mother disowned her.

Dora spotted the first shooting star. “There!” she shouted, pointing to the sky.

“It’s moving in the wrong part of the sky,” Mr. Carrington said. “We need one that’s directly overhead for the spell to catch it.” He did not sound worried, though. “Maybe the next one will be in the right position.”

It took nearly an hour before a shooting star finally crossed the boundaries of the spell.

The result was startling, to say the least. A flash of magical light temporarily turned the pasture brighter than day.

The light was followed by an almighty thump that shook the ground and nearly knocked Honora off her feet.

Valance caught her elbow and helped keep her from falling.

Honora steadied herself in time to see Dora launch herself into Mr. Carrington’s arms. “Peregrine, we did it!” she shouted. He replied by kissing her heartily.

Oh. So that was how it was. Honora looked around to see other people’s reactions. It was possible to see again, because someone had conjured a bright witchlight to illuminate the meteorite, which lay in the middle of a small crater.

No one else seemed the least bit surprised by the kiss. Apparently, whatever had developed between Dora and Mr. Carrington had not been kept secret from the rest of the family.

“Peregrine,” Sir Roderick scolded, “it is generally considered advisable to receive permission to marry a girl before you kiss her. You ought to have waited until after you spoke to Miss Rossini’s guardian to do that.”

“That will be difficult,” Honora pointed out, “given that we are not on good terms with the rest of the Grantly family at the moment.” Uncle Robert might not be as angry with Dora and Honora as Lady Grantly was, but Honora would not bet money on the chances of him granting permission for Dora to marry.

“Perhaps I can make it a condition of forgiving the mortgage.” Valance pitched his voice so that no one but Honora heard.

Just as well—Honora thought it better not to get anyone’s hopes up. But she met Valance’s eye and nodded.

“Oh, we can simply run off to Scotland to marry,” Mr. Carrington suggested.

Judging from the sputtering sound Valance made, he felt the same dismay Honora did. Hadn’t the Grantly family suffered enough scandal for one year?

“But first, we should attend this spring’s meeting of the Society for Astronomical Magic. Dora, you must come with me, since you helped me with the spell.”

“Peregrine,” Abigail Carrington objected, “They do not allow women at those meetings. That society is only for men.” Her sour expression made it clear how she felt about such exclusion.

“No? How foolish of them!” Mr. Carrington shrugged his shoulders. “Isn’t it a good thing Dora already has the right clothes for the conference? They may not allow Miss Rossini into the society, but they will certainly accept Mr. Rossini as a member.”

“Infiltrating the organization in disguise, in defiance of the rules? I like that idea.” Dora grinned her most mischievous grin.

“Yes, I thought you would,” Mr. Carrington replied cheerfully.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take some measurements before we move the meteorite.

Hannah, if you would be so good as to draw some sketches, I would appreciate it.

Dora, can you summon a better light? We’ll need to see well for this. ”

“I don’t know about you,” Valance murmured in Honora’s ear, “But I think I had rather go to bed. Peregrine may be up for hours yet, but I don’t need to witness the aftermath.”

Honora opened her mouth to answer him, but a yawn forestalled her words. “I will turn in too. It was fun to watch the meteorite trap in action, but I am very tired.”

She had never observed a meteor shower before, and that sight alone would have been worth standing in a chilly field, even if the spell had not worked. But it was gratifying to see Mr. Carrington’s hard work pay off.

They said their good nights and began the long walk back to Carrington Hall, where a comfortable guest room waited for them. Honora tilted her head back to study the sky, just in time to catch a bright fireball streaking across the spangled heavens.

“Is it good luck to see a shooting star?” she asked Valance. “Can you make a wish on it if you see one?”

“I don’t see why not.” He looked down at her. “What are you wishing for, Nora?”

She smiled back up at him. “It’s a secret for now. Maybe I will be able to tell you in a few weeks.”

Her courses were only two days late; they might yet start any day now. But if they had not begun in a couple of weeks, she would consult a medical magician to see if she was with child. She was not patient enough to wait three months to confirm a pregnancy the non-magical way.

“Markham says married people ought not keep secrets from each other,” Valance reminded her.

“Think of it as a Christmas gift,” Honora suggested. “I am only concealing it to make a pleasant surprise.” If she did conceive this month, the baby would be expected about Christmas time—if her calculations were correct.

Best not to get her hopes up, she reminded herself. She snuck another peek at the night sky, and when a second shooting star passed overhead, she silently repeated her wish. Perhaps it would come true. After all, good things seemed to happen to her during the Christmas holidays.

The End