Netherby Halls (14 page)

Justin had watched his beloved mother dive into hell
and came home one day to find that she had shot herself with her
small gun.

Justin began to see the emotion of ‘love’ as
something to be avoided at all cost.

Now, here he was drawn to this beauty whose magic was
white and yet undeniably strong. He might have doubted earlier, but
he knew after he kissed her that she was filled with bright,
powerful magic. It felt untouched by Dark. He knew one thing else
for certain: Sassy Winthrop touched something deep inside him,
something dangerously tinged with Dark mana, something that fed on
itself, something he had long ago denied.

She had brought all of it to the surface.

He had been fighting it all his life, refusing to be
what his father and brother before him were, and now—would he bury
it again, or would he revel in it as his ancestors had?

~
Twelve ~

THEY TOOK THEIR leave of the Dellesons and climbed
into the marquis’s phaeton. He and Percy both were inattentive to
one another, as they were deep within their own thoughts.

It was Percy who broke the silence with an expletive.
“Bloody damn hell!”

Justin gazed at him inquisitively. “Things not going
well with Sophy?”

“That puppy is asking for a facer, Justin. Mark me,
on this, he needs a set-down.”

“On that, I am heartily in agreement,” the marquis
returned with feeling.

“He baits me, and at this point, I don’t even think
his courtship is in earnest. For one thing, he is too young and has
an eye for the ladies! I have witnessed him picking up that damned
quizzing glass of his and flirting outrageously when he thinks
Sophy is not looking! And well he should. He is just a boy—what,
twenty years old? He shouldn’t be setting about looking for a
wife.”

“Aye, the wonder is that she doesn’t see it.”

“Oh, mark me, Justin, she does. That is just it. She
can barely stand to be in his company, but her mother is forever
throwing them together—like today, when her mother cunningly sent
her off in his carriage.”

“Yes, it did surprise me when Sophy asked Miss
Winthrop to accompany her. I may have been a bit too cynical about
your Sophy?” the marquis mused out loud.

“Dash it, man, of course you were, but that has
nothing to say in this matter. How am I to get Mrs. Delleson to
accept
my suit
?”

“Isn’t for you to do that, I am afraid. It will come
down to Sophy,” the marquis said.

“Poor darling. I don’t know how she can stand up to
the woman—a veritable tyrant!” He sighed heavily. “Do you know
what? I need a drink! Let us stop at a tavern in Bristol before
retiring to our lodgings.”

“Deuced good notion,” agreed the marquis.

A few minutes passed before the marquis pulled his
team up at a tavern that looked lively. The marquis gave the reins
over to a livery boy with instructions to undo the harness and
stall the horses with hay and water, as they would be awhile. With
this off his mind, the marquis and his friend strode jauntily
inside the tavern, determined to have a good time. Well, at least
Percy was. The marquis had other matters on his mind.

Tables were occupied for the most part by locals and
seafaring gentlemen. A few sporting gentlemen were talking
horseflesh and hunting, and everyone seemed to be in a rollicking
good mood.

Percy looked around and frowned. “I say, Justin, this
place looks more than a little shabby and a bit …
disreputable, don’t you think?”

“I do, but here is where we need to be,” the marquis
said enigmatically as he pulled up a high-backed stool at the worn
oak counter. As he sat he gazed thoughtfully at the proprietor and
waited for the short, stout man to take notice. Oblivious to this,
Percy pulled up a similar stool and sighed heavily while he waited
for service.

A pretty young woman whose breasts were too large for
her scoop-necked gown got up on a round table at this point, hiked
up her skirts, and began to dance to the lively music to which the
men around her were swinging their tankards.

Ale had been served, and Percy picked up his drink
and took a long drag. He then held up his pewter mug to the woman
and shouted out to her that she was a beauty.

The marquis eyed him quizzically and shook his head
in amusement, for that was not his friend’s style. However, as
Percy joined in the revelry with his fellows all singing with the
woman, the marquis spoke to the tavern keeper behind the counter.
“Sir, a moment of your time.”

The man sidled over and said, “What, sir, a shot of
whisky to go with yer ale?”

“No, but I will take another of this very excellent
ale, and you appear to me to be a man who knows his business and
might be able to provide me with … information.”

The tavern keeper wiped the counter vigorously,
nodding his head, and silently poured a tankard of the foaming
brew. “Now whot information I could give ye perplexes me, it
does.”

“I have only just come in from London, and while my
friend here is courting a lovely,
I am not
, and the truth is
I need a bit of er …
fun.
My tastes, however, are
somewhat particular.”

“And how can I help ye with that?” the stout man
asked warily.

“Use your noddle, man! I was told by a mutual friend,
a Mr. Delawar, that you were the man to see when I was in Bristol.
He told me you could find what I need,” the marquis said, brushing
off an invisible speck of lint.

“Well now, covey, I disremember any flash by such a
name, but we do have pretties to set your heart afire, aye, that we
do, jest cast your famble out, and one will be pleased to keep ye
warm.” The tavern keeper smiled broadly with this announcement.

“Stubble it!” the marquis returned impatiently, using
flashhouse cant. “It seems you have chosen not to understand me or
don’t have the wit I thought you had.” The marquis looked at a few
pretty ladies and pulled a face. “I could have any one, two, or
three of those. I don’t need
you
to tell me that. I don’t
have to go to a filthy dive to get some of that.” He shook his
head. “Not what I am here for.” He lowered his voice. “Listen
carefully, and you will be rewarded. What I want, what I
know
you can supply, will get you more, much more than a
coin or two.”

The stout tavern keeper played with the stubbles on
his round face, obviously vacillating between the desire to grab
the pouch the marquis had set on the counter and the wariness and
rules he had set for himself.

“Right then … no need to get hipped over this. I
was just trying to figure yer fetch before I showed m’phaz.” He
took the pouch and buried it within the wool vest he wore over his
filthy white shirt.

“Right then—don’t keep me waiting,” the marquis
replied quietly and with a sure warning in his tone.

“Right. I’ll need to know yer direction, and someone
will contact ye,” said the stout man after looking behind
himself.

“Very well. I am the Marquis of Dartmour and am
presently residing at 10 Northwell Road in Bristol. But mark me,
this is private matter, and if anyone hears of my doings, be
certain I will come for your neck first.” The marquis eyed him
darkly.

The mention of the marquis’s title had set the tavern
keeper at ease almost at once. The danger that this gentleman might
be an investigator was at once put to dust. Noblemen were all given
to such queer starts. For his part, he would have preferred any of
the buxom beauties waltzing about his floor. What men wanted with
the dainty frailties supplied by his silent and too often absent
cohort was more than he could fathom. “My partner will see ye by
the end of the week.”

“I am not a patient man,” the marquis answered. “See
to it that he does not dally.”

“Ye have m’word. Ye’ll be ’earing from him by the end
of the week, ye will.”

The marquis did not condescend to reply to this but
gave the man his back and found Percy taking the voluptuous singing
woman off the table and into his arms!

The marquis grinned boyishly as though he had not
just been striking up a deal with the devil and broke out laughing
as the woman toppled both Percy and herself to the floor.

They laughed and kissed heartily, and then off she
went to mingle amongst her cohorts, leaving Percy grinning broadly
and the marquis to pronounce, “Too much woman for you, eh, ol’
man?”

“Eh, oh … I can’t think of any other. Pledged
heart, soul and—” He waved a hand over himself. “—body … and
body … to the love of m’life.” He frowned. “But, Justin, I am
hungry. In fact, ravenous. Dinner, I say, but, damn, not here.”

“Right you are!
Dinner.
Come on, Percy, to the
Warwick House for our meal!”

~
Thirteen ~

SASSY STOMPED AROUND her room for a few minutes,
unclear just what had her more upset, the fact that the marquis had
kissed and nearly propositioned her or the undeniable truth that
she had wanted him to kiss her. Oh faith, she had wanted him to
kiss her!

She had learned on her second day at Netherby that
the bathing tubs were located in a room just off the large kitchen
and had already utilized it on two occasions. The room had its own
fireplace where one could warm the water for the tub. She made her
way there, and after a few trips carrying water to the fireplace
and then to the tub, she was quite ready to sink into the welcoming
bath suds and relax. She pulled the screen in place, put a chair at
the door, as it did not have a lock, and sank into the lovely soapy
water.

However, she could not get the marquis and his hot
kisses off her mind. He made her feel such things—things she was
very sure a respectable and unmarried woman should not feel.

Molly pushed at the door and, finding it blocked,
called out, “Miss Winthrop, would ye be taking Sunday dinner with
the others in the dining room?”

“No, thank you, Molly. I think I’ll just take a plate
and go on up to my room after my bath,” Sassy called back.

“I’ll fetch it fer ye, I will.”

A few moments later, as she toweled off and wrapped
herself in a warm velvet robe, Molly arrived with a plateful of
food. She thanked her and made her way up the backstairs to her
room. There she sat with a sigh and proceeded to pick at her food.
Finally, she set it aside and climbed into bed.

Sleep came fitfully.

Dr. Bankes was in her dream, whispering in her ear,
but the marquis pushed him aside. He took her hand and shoved her
behind his back, and she clearly heard him say, “Stay behind me.”
Why? Then her vivid, all too real dream centered on Bankes. He
pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the marquis!

Dr. Bankes was armed … the marquis was not.

She awoke with a start and touched her ring. It was
beginning to become apparent that if she was ever to understand
what was happening to her, she was going to have to ask her ring to
show her. She knew she was falling into a habit of turning to her
ring, but matters were not normal at Netherby, and she believed the
situation called for some otherworldly help. And she just couldn’t
continue with these confusing dreams.

She rubbed her ring and whispered,
Show
me.

A cloud formed, no bigger than two feet in diameter,
and then it cleared to display its contents.

Instead of the scene where Bankes held a pistol
threateningly pointed at the marquis,
Sassy found herself
watching the marquis undress.

He turned to her, and his eyes held a strange glow
around the deep blue color.

“
You have always known,” he said softly.

“
Known? Known what?” she whispered.

“
Here, let me help you,” he said, ignoring her
question as he undid the buttons of her dark velvet gown. Where had
she gotten such a gown? Its style was definitely high fashion, and
suddenly she noticed the diamonds around her neck. How? Where was
she? She looked around. They were in the bedroom, the bedroom where
she’d first seen him.

Her gown fell to the floor. She helped him remove
her small things, and he stood back to look at her wearing only the
diamonds at her ears and neck. His eyes were bright with desire and
something else. “Luscious,” he whispered.

“Stop!” she told her ring. “This is not what I wanted
to see!”

She played with her fingers fretfully. What was
happening to her?
Oh, Mama
, she thought
, I wish you were
here to explain it all.

I am
, said a soft voice that seemed to caress
her, and it came to her all at once! Her mother’s Book of Light,
invisible to all without magic. She rushed to her portmanteau,
where only one object remained unpacked: an ornately carved wooden
box.

She rubbed her ring and whispered, “Open.” The lid
flipped back gently, and Sassy scooped up the small leather satchel
hidden within.

“Now,” Sassy said, still speaking to herself in a
whisper, “we shall see.” However, it was at this point that Sassy
heard a sound outside and went to her window, only half-shielded by
the first panel she had sewn and put up earlier.

As soon as she looked out her window, she immediately
withdrew and placed herself flat against the wall. Then, bent low
and in a crouched position, she blew out the candles on the
sideboard table.

Hurriedly she straightened slightly and looked out
the window. Intruders,
two
, she thought. It wasn’t clear, as
the light was that of only a half moon, but one of the men boldly
carried a lantern, and she focused on his movements. He was
enswathed in dark clothing—but,
faith,
what was that on his
head?
A turban
? Was he wearing a turban? That didn’t make
sense.