Page 56 of No One's Bride
Sebastian had presumed the same.
Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“I’d need to see this grimoire if you still have it,” Mangold added. “I could study the drawings and attempt to decipher their meaning.”
Every instinct said not to trust this charlatan.
“That’s rather generous of you.” Sebastian kept the sarcasm from his tone. “I shall bring the grimoire here so you may cast your expert eye over the text,” he lied. He refused to let anyone put their grubby hands on Michael’s book.
The professor’s watery smile failed to hide an inner agitation. “I shall do my utmost to make sense of the markings in the hope it will give you some clarity.”
He omitted to mention a donation and made no bid for extra funds. That’s when Sebastian knew Mangold had a secret. Was it a secret relating to witchcraft? Was it something more sinister?
Did he know what the drawings meant?
Did he know what happened aboardThe Perseus?
ChapterEleven
One expected to see a familiar reflection when peering into a looking glass. Yes, the faint mole on Ailsa’s cheek was visible. One eyebrow was not quite as arched as the other, and the fiery red curls tickling her earlobe were still the bane of her existence.
Yet she looked nothing like herself.
Delphine’s maid has styled her hair in a soft, sweeping coiffure. She had added a little powder to even her complexion, a dab of rouge to redden her cheeks and lips. Such things enhanced one’s features, they didn’t alter them drastically. Still, Ailsa felt different. Beautiful. Feminine. Exposed.
“The blue silk will look divine on you.” Delphine clapped her hands in glee. “You will be the belle of Lady Winfield’s ball. There’ll be stories about you in tomorrow’sScandal Sheet. Wagers on which gentleman has caught your eye.”
Ailsa suppressed a groan. Gossip was often halfway around thetonbefore the truth had its boots on. She met the dark-haired beauty’s gaze through the glass. “If there’s ever a way I can repay yer kindness, ye must tell me.”
Mischief danced in Delphine’s wide brown eyes. “I suspect there might be. When I am ready, I shall need your support. I only pray you’re living in London and not rusticating in the Highlands.”
Any curiosity surrounding Delphine’s cryptic comment died. The thought of leaving London filled Ailsa with dread. It wasn’t the busy metropolis she would miss. It wasn’t trips to the theatre or visits to the quaint bookshop tucked away in a narrow snicket. It was him.
“I promised my father I’d return to Scotland after the auction. He’ll be expecting me home within a few weeks. But I shall be back in September.”
September seemed like a lifetime away.
Scotland a million miles.
“I would visit you in the Highlands if I could persuade Aaron to let me travel that far. Still, I shall look forward to your return.” Delphine came closer and placed her hands on Ailsa’s shoulders. “Every eligible bachelor in thetonwill want to dance with you tonight.”
She didn’t want to dance with every man.
Only one.
In the next few days, they planned to break the spell. Then she would be living for her books and hoping her married friends would spare an hour of their time. There would be no teasing banter with the viscount. No lustful kisses. No promises of something illicit.
The chime of the mantel clock drew Ailsa from her reverie. “Heavens. I should hurry. Helen will be here in half an hour, and Mr Chance said I must leave before the first customers arrive.”
Since meeting with Professor Mangold yesterday, Lord Denton had been acting strangely. During the journey to the Old Crown, he had hardly spoken a word and seemed glad the place was closed because of a fire in the taproom.
He’d spent hours at the gaming tables last night, waiting for Michael’s shipmate, Mr Kirkwood. Delphine said he’d cursed the man to the devil when he failed to show, and resorted to guzzling brandy with Mr Chance.
He had missed breakfast this morning, rising late before leaving Fortune’s Den at noon on the pretence of preparing for Lady Winfield’s ball. Perhaps there was somewhere else he’d rather be. It certainly felt like he was avoiding her.
Had he already performed the ritual and broken the spell?
It would account for his distance, for the lapse in his attentions.
