Genevieve and Frances looked up in unison as the door to the drawing room opened, and Gables entered with a silver salver. Rory felt his hands curl into fists around the paper. He knew that salver. Knew it was a letter. Gables said as much, then held the tray out to him. Rory recognized Henry’s handwriting immediately and lifted the letter.
“When did this arrive?” he asked.
“Earlier today, my lord. One of the footmen received it and forgot to give it to me until just now. I assure you, he has been spoken to, my lord, and he will be punished.”
Rory waved a hand, dismissing Gables. The letter seemed warm in his hand. From the corner of his eye, he saw Genevieve stand and hold out a hand to Frances. “Time for bed, I think,” she said.
“Nooooo!” Frances said before putting a hand over her mouth. “I mean, may I read a little longer?”
“That was nicely done, Frances,” Genevieve said. “But no. Come on. I’ll tell you a story if you hurry with your toilette.”
“Fine.” Frances stomped to Rory, gave him a kiss on the cheek, which was a new addition to her bedtime routine, and then stomped out the door.
Genevieve gave him a concerned look. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”
“It’s fine,” he said, hoping he sounded more optimistic than he felt. From the look on her face, he hadn’t succeeded.
When the door closed, he broke the seal on the letter and skimmed over Henry’s greeting. He’d wanted to write sooner,but circumstances and so on. The heart of the letter was that he’d been given another part of the counter-spell. He hadn’t seen the woman who passed it to a lad holding his horse, but the boy had said she had an accent Henry thought was most likely Scottish. He hadn’t wasted much time on the circumstances of receiving the spell. Instead, he had copied it in his large, looping hand.
If true love they find, they may return to thestart.
Changed, they may offer a sacrifice of theheart.
Then he’d added King’s part and put it all together.
Procure petal of flower, dash of dust of thefae.
Combine now in this goblet, please if youmay.
Hear me now, great goddess of good andlight.
Take mercy on these children. Ease theirplight.
Lose they may all they holddear,
But open a path to clean thesmear.
If true love they find, they may return to thestart.
Changed, they may offer a sacrifice of theheart.
Rory didn’t know how long he stared at the words. They swam in front of him by the time the drawing room door opened and Genevieve returned. “What’s wrong?” she said as soon as she stepped inside. She knelt before him, touched his cheek. “No fever.”
“I’m fine,” he croaked.
“It’s the letter?” she asked, crossing the room to the brandy decanter and pouring him three fingers. “Drink this,” she said, her skirts swishing as she moved back to him. He took a sip and set the glass down.
“Really. I’m fine.” He lifted the letter. “Read it.”
She did read it, and when she finished, she lifted his brandy and finished it in one swallow.
Rory raised his brows. “Thirsty?”
“Terrified,” she said.
“I thought you didn’t believe in witchcraft.”
“I don’t.” She went to the brandy and poured another three fingers, bringing it back to him. He took it, sipped, and this time held on to the snifter. “But I know you do, and I’m scared you’ll take this to heart, and”—she swiped at her eyes, and he realized she was about to cry—“push me away again.”
