His smile made him seem even more appealing than usual, and she was standing too close to him. Elizabeth had said he wanted her, but could she believe it? Abruptly she asked, “Why did you offer for me? You had never paid me the least attention before.”
He tore his eyes away from the spectacle on the dais. Looking at her searchingly, he said slowly, “I had always dreaded marrying because Ithought I would have to hide my Faerie connections from any woman high-born enough to be a suitable match. I thought any society lady would be horrified by fay behavior if I ever brought her here. Then I walked into Titania’s bower and found an enchanting creature who fit into Faerie as naturally as she did in a London drawing room. I wanted you.” He paused. “Dare I hope this means you have reconsidered?”
Frederica froze. He wanted her. Was that enough?
“Never mind,” he said. “If you will excuse me, I must have a word with Aelfric before he leaves.”
“Of course,” she said hollowly. Was she glad or disappointed he had not waited for her to answer?
“YOU HAVE A CALLER,sir. A Miss Darcy,” said Eversleigh’s butler.
Eversleigh lifted his head. “Are you certain it is Miss Darcy and not Mr. Darcy?” He had been expecting Darcy ever since receiving that odd letter of resignation from the Collegium. Not that it was completely unexpected, but he would have expected Darcy to tell him of it in person. But what would his sister be doing here? The girl was not even out yet, if he recalled correctly. She should not be making calls, especially not on single men.
“Sir, it is a young lady,” the butler said disapprovingly. “She wishes to speak to you privately.”
Most odd. What reason could she possibly have? Perhaps she was concerned about her brother. “Send her in. And station a maid at the far end of the drawing room where she can watch me.” He could not see her for long in any case. He should already be on his way to Rosings for the revel.
“Very good, sir.”
Eversleigh straightened his cuffs. If any other young woman madea request like this, he would assume it was an attempt at entrapping him into marriage. He could not believe it of Darcy’s sister, though. Darcy had said she was timid.
“Miss Darcy,” the butler announced.
She did not look as young as he had expected; her figure was fully formed. Perhaps he should not have dismissed the idea of entrapment so quickly. She curtsied stiffly, her face ashen.
“Miss Darcy, how may I be of service to you?” He tried to sound fatherly.
“I... I know I should not be here, but... I have a question.” She stared at the floor.
“Is this concerning your brother?” he prompted.
“No. Yes. Mostly no.”
If it was not about Darcy, what could it possibly be? “What is your question?”
“Is there a way you can tell if someone is under a sorcerer’s spell?” The words rushed out quickly, as if she had prepared them.
Had Darcy told her of their suspicions that sorcerers might still be among them? “Are you afraid your brother is under a spell?”
“No, not him. Can you do it?” Her eyes were huge.
“It is possible, but I have never done it. We have no sorcerers in England.” Apart from Lady Catherine de Bourgh, of course, but she was safely imprisoned and warded. “If you are worried that Sir Lewis de Bourgh might have put a spell on you, even if he had, it would have died with him.”
“You do notknowof any other sorcerers in England,” she said quietly.
Why did young girls have to beat around the bush so much? “Perhaps you could tell me what you are so worried about.”
She chewed her lip and opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Her hands clenched. “Oh!” It was a cry of frustration.
He had been missing the obvious. Young girls were imaginative. She must have read too many gothic novels about sorcerers. “I truly believe you have nothing to worry about. Girls often have these fancies. I think it would be best to send for your brother –”
“No! Can you not simply do it?” she begged.
“It is not a spell that can be done casually, and you will not even tell me why you think you need it.”
She drew a handkerchief from her reticule.
Oh, no. Not tears. Anything but tears.
