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"Does it rankle your fine sorcerer education and pride to know that a bunch of backward gypsies can use it?" she asked sarcastically.
"Not at all. I think it's wonderful," Augustus replied honestly.
Mara flushed. "I'm sorry. I just assumed."
"Dangerous things assumptions. It's pointless for either of us to have any in this situation."
"And what situation is that?" A fair eyebrow lifted.
"Despite your family's warnings, you are about to serve a sorcerer for a second time. I'm about to tell you something horrible. I can feel it in my bones, and I'm not inclined to share my secrets with anyone. If we keep this up, we might teeter dangerously close to becoming friends." Augustus smiled, hoping it would put her at ease again.
"That's optimistic of you."
"A man has to be when a saint is about to pull his deepest nightmares to the surface."
Mara placed her hands on her hips. "You knew what you were in for when you opened the door, so don't complain to me."
"I can still be nervous about it."
"I don't believe that for a second. You're one of the most self-assured men I've ever met."
Augustus made a sound somewhere between a sarcastic laugh and a cough. "The first time we met, I was so drunk, I could barely stand up. Does that strike you as self-assurance?"
"Good point. Are you ready, Augustus?" Mara asked, taking the lid off the teapot.
"Absolutely not, but there is no way to prove our hypothesis without doing this."
"What was it you called me? A chicken? Look who's chicken now. I promise your secrets are safe with me," she teased.
None of me is safe with you, Augustus thought as those big black eyes held his, and he felt like he was falling.
He didn't try to fight the sensation, and he opened his mouth and said, "When I was thirty, the Vance estate almost burned to the ground…"
* * *
It had taken five years for Augustus to get over the incident with the leopard.
On his return to England, his sister Emmaline, six years his junior, nursed him back to health and ran the estate while he pieced his shattered mind back together.
Emmaline was the most delightful Vance to be produced, and she outstripped Augustus in everything she put her hands to: languages, drawing, piano, singing, history.
If she'd had any inclination toward magic, he was sure she would have become proficient enough to shock the establishment.
They were constant companions, orphans who only had each other in the world. She was his best friend, and if it wasn't for her help, Augustus doubted he would've been alive.
Before the death of Timothy Highfell, Augustus had held secret hopes that one day he would be able to call Timothy brother.
Timothy had been besotted with Emmaline since she turned fourteen, but Augustus, as head of the family, had told him to wait until she was at least seventeen before he made a serious offer for her hand.
Emmaline had mourned Timothy as much as Augustus had, her own dreams and future in ruins. Emmaline dealt with her grief by running the estate with such proficiency that Augustus ended up signing everything she put in front of him, freeing him up to continue his study of magic, the only thing that gave him any peace.
On the night of the fire, Augustus woke to the rank smell of leopard musk in his bedroom. He'd been plagued by nightmares since the incident, but it had been a long time since he had hallucinated.
Then he smelled something equally deadly…smoke. He rushed out into the halls to find the smoke billowing along the roof from the east wing where Emmaline slept. Heedless of his own safety, he ran to find her.
Through the flames, he saw a leopard watching him. He thought it was another hallucination until the great beast attacked him, keeping him from Emmaline's rooms.
Augustus fought the cat off with a chair, the wood splintering under its claws as it tried to open him up.
