Page 6 of Twelfth Night Sorcery (The Cambion Club #2)

“You can tell I’m not really a man?” This fascinated Honora. As far as she could tell, no one else had been able to see through Lord What’s-His-Name’s disguise.

“You certainly look like a woman to me,” the new stranger replied.

He had hair a lighter shade of brown than her rescuer, and he was built on more slender lines.

She guessed him to be roughly her own age, or perhaps a little older.

“That is, you are dressed like one. But what is all that blue-green fluff on your dress? Are you supposed to be a plant?” A line formed between his brows as he studied her costume.

“I’m supposed to be Aphrodite, emerging from the sea.

It was my mother’s idea.” Honora wrinkled her nose.

She had wanted to be a ghost or a mummy.

Something that involved a lot of wrappings.

Something that wouldn’t attract attention.

But she had, as usual, been overruled. Her mother wanted everyone to notice Honora.

“But why would you add a glamour over your costume?” the stranger continued. “No one can see the costume because of Valance’s spell. Why wear a costume if no one can see it?”

“You can see it,” Honora pointed out. “How can you see it if other people can’t?”

“Oh, that’s because I’m a better magician than Valance,” he explained. “His magic is not strong enough to hide something from me.”

Lord Valance (she tried to commit his name to memory this time) made a rude sputtering sound. “There’s no need to insult me! I have never worked this spell before, and I didn’t have time to perfect it. If I had known—”

“I’m not trying to insult you,” the stranger interjected. “I am merely answering this young lady’s question. Your spell was very well-made and I am sure it fooled most people, but it was not strong enough to fool me.”

Lord Valance, unconvinced, shook his head. “Anyway, do you know if there’s an empty bedroom I can put Miss, ah, the unknown lady, in?” His eyes shifted in Honora’s direction.

The stranger furrowed his brow. “Both guest rooms are being used for storage right now. But Susan and Abby are out, so you could probably use one of their rooms.”

His lordship’s mouth fell open in dismay. “What? Since when? Where did they go?”

“They went to Surrey yesterday. Susan’s cough was getting bad and Abby thought the country air would help. But I think she was also cross because I made a mess in the dining room.”

Lord Valance’s face fell into anxious lines. “What exactly did you do in the dining room?”

“I was trying to figure out how to catch fireballs with magic,” his friend explained. “My first spell did not work right, and some of the furnishings got burnt. But I figured out how to fix the spell, so you need not worry. It won’t happen again.”

“Why would you want to catch fireballs?” Honora asked. What a fascinating idea! But what did he even mean by “fireballs”? A ball made of fire? Or a ball on fire? Or something else?

“I’m trying to make a trap to catch a falling star. That’s what this is.” He gestured to the chalked pentacle on the floor. “Since there is no meteor shower tonight, I had to make my own meteorites for practice.”

“Oh.” Honora frowned. She had many questions, and she did not know which to ask first. She was particularly curious about how one could produce home-made meteorites.

But the placement of the pentacle also confused her.

“Wouldn’t you have to put the trap outside to catch a falling star?

” She had never heard of a meteor shower inside a townhouse.

“No, part of the spell involves transferring the meteorite directly into this room,” he explained. “That way, I won’t have to stand on the roof to collect it.”

“Peregrine, you do not want a meteorite to land inside the house.” Lord Valance stared at the pentacle and tapped his foot, scowling.

The strange gentleman had been studying the chalked lines on the floor, but now he glanced up at his housemate. “Oh, good point. I suppose it might make a mess. Or damage the floor.”

“Precisely,” Lord Valance agreed. “Your sister would be unhappy. So would Susan. So would I, for that matter. I am sure this is an excellent spell, but there must be a better place to work it.”

Peregrine-What’s-His-Name sighed. “Very well. I suppose I will have to do this on the roof after all. But that is not very convenient. You know perfectly well that I’ve had bad luck working magic on rooftops.

” He began to scuff out the chalked lines.

Then he peered up at Honora. “Who are you, again? Have I met you?”

“No, we have not met.” There was nothing distinctive about the stranger’s physical appearance.

The bronze lights that twinkled and shifted in his aura indicated that he was a powerful wizard, but apart from that, his aura looked perfectly ordinary.

Still, Honora thought she would have remembered him.

“I am Honora Grantly, the daughter of the late Sir Isaac Grantly.” Introducing herself violated half a dozen rules of etiquette, but there was no one here who could make a proper introduction between them.

The wizard got to his feet, dusted off the knees of his trousers, and bowed quite properly. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Grantly. I believe I met your father at the Cambion Club a couple of years ago. All the Carrington men are members, even my older brother.”

She acknowledged his bow with an inclination of her head. “That is quite likely. My father usually did visit his clubs when he came to town.” He had belonged to Boodle’s, too, but he had visited the Cambion Club more often.

Mr. Carrington said, “The Grantlys tend to be either mages or sorcerers if they have magic. Which are you?”

Asking someone about their magical talents (or lack thereof) was considered bad manners, but Honora saw no reason not to answer. “I am technically a mage, but a very limited one. I can see both magic and auras, but I cannot work magic of any kind.”

Her father, being a sorcerer rather than a mage, had only been able to give Honora a little instruction on reading auras. He had been more successful at teaching her how to analyze spells. Her magical sight had been keener than his, so she had sometimes assisted him with his work.

“That’s a shame. We could have used another sorcerer here.

I could have used help with this spell, in fact.

” Mr. Carrington gestured down to the half-erased pentacle.

“This is quite the magical household, you know. My sister is a witch, and I am a wizard, and of course Valance is whatever he is. There’s no word for his type of magic.

Susan does not work magic, but she is very good about tolerating magical experiments,” he added as an afterthought.

“And who is Susan, then?” Honora found it difficult to keep all these names straight.

“Oh, she is my sister’s lover.” Mr. Carrington’s face did not lose an iota of composure as he made this revelation.

Honora blinked and rapidly readjusted some of her assumptions. Having been to boarding school, she knew perfectly well that some girls fancied other girls. But she had thought that was a stage people outgrew. Apparently not?

“Peregrine, you cannot introduce Miss Taylor that way! You should refer to her as your sister’s companion.” Lord Valance rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Abigail and Susan would not want strangers to know about their relationship.”

“I know that!” Mr. Carrington said indignantly. “I would never refer to Susan that way when talking to a stranger, but since this young lady is your friend, I assumed she would keep the information in confidence.” He smiled hopefully at Honora.

“Oh, no, we are not friends,” Honora explained. She knew nothing about Lord Valance other than that he had an unusual means of working magic.

“My apologies. Are you Valance’s new mistress, then? Did he finally dismiss Cherie?”

Lord Valance threw his hands up in the air. “She is not my mistress! She is a respectable young lady!” His scowl deepened.

Honora opened her mouth to ask who Cherie was, but at the last minute, she thought better of the question. It was not her business how many lovers Lord Valance kept. (But was it her imagination, or did Mr. Carrington look disappointed at this news? Curious.)

Mr. Carrington’s misunderstanding gave her a good idea, though.

She would be thoroughly, absolutely ruined if people thought she was Lord Valance’s new mistress.

Perhaps he would be willing to set her up in rooms and visit her often enough to ruin her reputation?

That would be an enormous expense to him, though, particularly if he already kept a mistress.

Honora sighed, wishing she had access to her fortune. Everything would have been easier if she’d had money. But the money left to her under her father’s will was held in trust for her by Uncle Robert, who shared Lady Grantly’s enthusiasm for the marriage to Belmont.

Lord Valance turned to Honora. “The hour is very late, and I think we all ought to go to bed. This conversation will make more sense after a good night’s sleep.”

“Possibly.” Honora suspected that so complicated a situation would be difficult to explain under any circumstances. But sleep could not hurt, and it might very well help.

“Peregrine,” Lord Valance continued. “You and I had better spend the night at an inn, so as not to compromise Miss Grantly.”

But Mr. Carrington shook his head. “Absolutely not. You know I hate sleeping anywhere but in my own bed. My apologies, Miss Grantly,” he added, turning back to Honora. “I am sure it is awkward for you to stay here without a chaperone.”

“I do not mind the impropriety,” she assured him. It would, in fact, be perfect. If she spent the night here without a chaperone, she would be thoroughly compromised. “I am trying to ruin my reputation, you see.”

“Really?” Mr. Carrington raised his eyebrows. “Is that difficult to do? I was rather under the impression that it was difficult to avoid being ruined, if one is a woman. There are so many things a lady is not allowed to do!”

“I am finding it more challenging than I expected,” Honora admitted. She cast a sour glance at Lord Valance, who could have been more helpful about the matter. Why on earth would he worry about preserving her reputation when she had made it clear she wanted to blacken it?

“I suppose it is too late to do anything about the matter tonight. We will just have to hope tno one learns you were here unchaperoned.” Lord Valance rubbed his temples, as if he had a headache. “In that case, allow me to show you to your room.”

Honora followed her host upstairs to a large, well-appointed bedroom, part of the master suite. Most unfortunately, the bed had already been stripped.

“Well, damn,” he said. “You can’t sleep here.”

“Where is the bedding kept?” Honora asked practically. “I can make the bed myself.” She had never made a bed in her life, but it could not be too hard, could it?

Lord Valance lifted the lid on the wooden chest at the foot of the bed. “The bedding ought to be here.”

Honora peered inside too. The chest was empty, with not a blanket or sheet in sight.

They walked through the dressing room into the second bedroom, but that bed was in the same state.

Though she poked about in the room for a few minutes, no bedding could be found.

No one could sleep in either of these rooms tonight.

“I suppose the maids must be laundering the sheets,” Lord Valance said. “I am sure there are extra sheets and blankets somewhere, but I don’t know where the linen closet is. I don’t own this house, you understand. It belongs to the Carringtons. I only live here.” He shrugged apologetically.

“Why do you live here?” Honora knew nothing about this particular neighborhood, but she knew that Bloomsbury was not one of the fashionable parts of the West End. Most noblemen would have preferred Mayfair or Marylebone.

“The Valance family has never owned a townhouse,” Lord Valance explained. “And I have known Peregrine and his sister all my life, because their estate borders on mine. And”—he hesitated for a moment, and finished—“I dislike living alone.”

“I see. Well, is there a sofa in the drawing room I could sleep on?” Exhaustion weighed Honora down, making it hard to think clearly. She desperately needed rest. And after that? She would figure out the next steps tomorrow.

Lord Valance sighed. He had been doing that rather a lot since their arrival. “I will sleep on the sofa. You can sleep in my room.”

Reluctance dripped from his voice; he clearly did not want to give up his bedchamber. Who could blame him? Honora had yet to meet the sofa or chaise longue that actually provided a good night’s sleep.

“That is not necessary,” Honora assured him. “I will be fine on a sofa.” She smothered another yawn.

“Nonsense. You are a guest here. I cannot ask you to sleep in the drawing room.”

He strode out of the room as if the matter were decided.

She tagged after him, feeling too tired to argue further.

His room lay up another flight of stairs.

It was smaller than the other bedrooms, and had been papered in rather somber shades of brown and gold.

Privately, Honora thought it was one of the ugliest wallpapers she’d ever seen.

“In case you are wondering,” Lord Valance said, “I am not the one who decorated the room. I believe this room used to belong to Carrington’s younger brother.”

“I see.” Honora had wondered. Perhaps the Carrington family eccentricities included unusual taste when it came to home decor.

“Good night, then. We can speak more in the morning.” He left in a hurry, as if he were glad to get away from her.

Honora could scarcely blame him for that. She had attached herself to him like a barnacle, when in fact there was no reason why he should help her. It was very generous of him to let her stay here at all, given that they had met only a few hours ago.

Everything seemed to be working out quite well, she thought as she stripped down to her shift.

She had gotten away from the duke, and after tonight she would be so thoroughly compromised that Belmont would not offer for her.

She was safe for now, and in the morning, she could figure out her next steps.

Honora climbed into bed and tucked herself in, shivering. No fire burned on the hearth, but the counterpane was soft and thick. It ought to keep her warm enough. The faint odor of some scented soap or cologne hung about the bedding, but it was not an unpleasant smell. Far from it.

She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. It had, after all, been a very long day.