Wesley wasn’t admitting to anything. He dropped his gaze back to his paper. “If we do see a murderous phosphorescent hound, just promise me you won’t try to pet it.”
Sebastian’s gaze had gone back out the window. “At least a glowing dog might be proof of Valemount magic,” he said, more quietly. “It’s so frustrating notto be able to tell who has magic, when it used to be so easy to use my magic to find out.”
There is a reason his magic is gone.Gone—for how long? Another day?Forever?Wesley’s next letter to Mateo was going to have some choice words about vague fortune-telling nonsense.
Sebastian’s gaze was still on the window, handsome face partially reflected in the glass. “I almost tried again last night.”
Wesley nearly fumbled his paper. “You almost tried using your magic again last night?”
“Yeah.” Sebastian huffed a short sigh. “Stupid, right? I know it’s gone. I guess old habits don’t die without a fight.”
“It’sdie hard.”
“Old habits don’t die hard?”
“No, they do, I meant—never mind, I like your idioms better anyway.” Wesley set his paper on the seat next to him. “I’m not going to pretend I have any idea what you’re going through,” he said softly. “But we’re a pair of very clever gents. We’ll find another way to figure it out, one thatdoesn’t require magic,” he added, just a little more firmly than he’d meant.
Sebastian glanced at him. “If you say so,” he said, with the smallest hint of a smile.
It was evening when they were picked up at the village train station in a gleaming white Hispano-Suiza H6 tourer that had Sebastian’s eyes lighting up.
“What a show-off the duke is,” Wesley said under his breath, as they drove along a particularly bumpy stretch of country road. “Sending the Spanish car when horses would make more sense on this landscape.”
“The H6 set a world record at Brooklands last year.”Sebastian ran a hand along the top of the door. “I wonder if I can sneak into Valemount’s garage and drive it.”
They traversed several miles through moors and park, not that Wesley could make out much of the landscape in the dark beyond impressions of scattered dwellings and low, fog-wrapped hills. Once they turned onto the road that crossed the Valemount estate, the quality of the pavement improved significantly at least, but it was still more than three miles to Valemount Hall itself.
The manor was easy to spot, even in the distance; it had been refitted with electricity at some point and its white stone and pilasters were lit like a beacon in the night. Three long rows of tall, rectangular windows stretched up to a prominent entablature, and the entire house was surrounded by gardens. As they approached the house, Wesley caught sight of the kennels and stables, set apart from the main house a short distance from what might have been the garages.
“Look.” Sebastian was pointing out at the gardens, which ended at a tor topped with a two-story house built in an echo of the manor’s style. Lights were on in the upper floor.
“Guest house,” Wesley said. “I wonder if that’s where we’re staying.”
When they pulled up at the manor, however, they were greeted by Valemount’s butler, Horace Lester, who explained they’d be staying upstairs.
“I’m afraid the guest house is undergoing renovations, my lord. It was built on the ruins of the original fifteenth-century hall and the foundation needs regular maintenance,” Lester said, with a small bow, as a pair of footmen came out of the house to collect their bags.“But we have rooms for you ready in the east wing. If you’ll follow me?”
They were led first not to their rooms, but to a small, elegant dining room with a large table, although Wesley and Sebastian were the only ones seated at it.
“Lord Valemount extends you his full hospitality,” said Lester, as they were brought a late supper of cold beef and asparagus. “He’s been detained in the village and apologizes for not being here to welcome you himself, but he’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Are we the only ones here?” Wesley said, exchanging a glance with Sebastian. That certainly did not bode well.
But Lester immediately shook his head. “No, sir. Lord and Lady Ryland arrived this afternoon, as did Sir Reginald. They have rooms on the same floor as both of you. They all retired after supper, however, to rest after their journeys. We’re expecting several more guests in the morning, including Lord and Lady Thornton and most of the Valemount Hunt.”
After the meal, they were taken up the curving, red-carpeted main stairs and into the east wing, where Sebastian was given the Bluebell Room and Wesley the Heather Room next door.
“Lester, a moment,” Wesley said, in his most imperious voice. Sebastian had been walking into the Bluebell Room, but paused.
“Yes sir, Lord Fine?” Lester said.
“I am a man who deeply values his privacy,” Wesley said. “You must tell the staff that they are not to disturb me in my room, is that understood?”
“Yes sir,” Lester said, with a politely blank expressionthat perfectly hid whether he found the order or tone of voice insufferable.
Wesley went into his room. He gave it time, preparing for bed but listening to the footsteps in the hall. When all had been silent for a good thirty minutes, he ducked out of his room and into Sebastian’s.
Sebastian was already in the bed, just a lump under the covers on the side farthest from the door with the blankets pulled up over his head. He’d lit the candle on the nightstand, which filled the room with the softest light.
