Chapter 23

"Aunt!"

Aunt Tessa stopped where she stood, her wide-eyed stare hard on Sebastian, despite his friendly greeting. Then she hurried over to him. She was wearing a black dress in some thick, expensive-looking fabric, her long hair covered entirely by a black velvet-covered bonnet.

"You haven't been to see me in weeks," Aunt Tessa accused him, her thin face set in a disapproving expression. "Why is that?"

Sebastian let out a long breath. "Sorry, Aunt," he said slowly. "With Papa's illness, and then the ball, and estate matters to organise, I have barely had a moment. I'm sorry," he said again, seeing her eyes fasten on him accusingly.

"I sent you a note weeks ago," she said firmly. "And you never sent a reply."

"Oh." Sebastian tensed. He recalled, suddenly, the note that the butler had brought to him the morning that Papa fell ill. He had put it in his pocket and never read through it. "I do remember. Sorry, Aunt. It arrived just before Papa's health was so badly affected, and I forgot. I truly regret doing so," he said truthfully. Aunt Tessa might be eccentric, but she was a dear and he would never deliberately ignore her or fail to visit her. She had always been important to him and to Papa.

"Yes," Aunt Tessa said firmly. "Now, you must come with me to Waddingham House. And quickly, please—we have not much time."

"Aunt..." Sebastian paused, a dozen statements buzzing about in his brain like querulous wasps. He was only in London for a few hours, and he had intended not to stay longer. He wanted to tell Eleanor his news and organize the payment of the fine as quickly as possible. He needed to return to her, and to Papa, who was still not fully recovered. And besides, he had ridden to London in six hours, through the night. How was Aunt Tessa even in London? And how had she found him?

"Come on, Bastien," his aunt said, more softly. "We need to get to Waddingham House. I have something urgent to discuss."

Sebastian nodded, keeping his questions to the side for the moment. "Yes, Aunt," he said humbly.

"Good."

She led the way, hurrying along the pavement, striding with immense and unexpected energy towards her London home. Sebastian, who was practically passing out with tiredness, did his best to keep up with her and she patiently slowed, waiting for him at the corner before hurrying off again. The black mantle that she wore over her gown was easy to spot among the pale sandstone buildings around them.

They reached the stairs that led up to Waddingham House, and Sebastian followed his aunt closely, slowing as she slowed to draw breath near the top. Waddingham House was a tiny, three-floor townhouse, sandwiched between two much larger townhouses that all looked out onto an elegant, cobbled street. It had just two rooms on each floor, with the kitchen in the cellar and a room for one maid to lodge there in the attic. Sebastian waited for Aunt Tessa to open the door and then followed her indoors.

The small townhouse was well-lit and well-tended, and he blinked and looked about, focusing on the unusual floor-tiles in the entrance, and the white-painted walls. It was all quite conventional-seeming at first, but then when one entered Aunt's drawing room upstairs, it became entirely unconventional-seeming.

The drawing room was, as it had been for years, decorated with Oriental rugs and Chinese porcelain on the mantelpiece, with the table made of mahogany wood and elegant eastern-inspired lamps. Aunt's father had been an explorer, and many of the pieces in the house had been his. Sebastian looked around, feeling at home despite his weariness. Aunt's house was unconventional enough to be a little uncomfortable, but it was somewhere he had visited often throughout his life, and for that reason it felt familiar and welcoming.

"Now," Aunt said, ringing the bell in the corner to summon the butler. "We have a matter of great importance to talk about. Sit down, please," she added, gesturing him to a Turkish Ottoman chair.

He wanted to ask his aunt how she could possibly have found him in London, but before he could say anything, the butler appeared, and Aunt turned to him in the doorway.

"Tea, please, Mr. Jackson. And some cake too."

"At once, my lady," the butler agreed, bowing low. A tall, thin man with black hair, he had worked for Aunt as long as Sebastian could recall.

"Now," Aunt said, turning to Sebastian. "I have to discuss a very urgent matter with you. It has been weighing on my mind for weeks now."

"Sorry, Aunt," Sebastian said at once. She was giving him a reproachful look. "But, how by all of Perdition did you find me?"

"Such things have a way of organising themselves," Aunt said lightly.

Sebastian looked inquiringly at her. He wondered, sometimes, if Aunt really did have some kind of arcane gift. She did have an uncanny way of being right about some things. In any case, she was in London, and he was too, and he had ignored her letter for too long. He leaned back and waited for her to continue.

"Tea, my lady. My lord," the butler murmured.

Sebastian and Aunt Tessa waited for the butler to pour the tea and unpack the tea-trolley. Aunt Tessa looked impatient.

"Now," she said again when the butler had wandered out of the room. "I have an urgent matter to discuss. You must promise me that you will take what I say in earnest. It is no lighthearted matter."

"Of course, Aunt," Sebastian said at once. His aunt held his gaze for a moment, but he was sincere in his intent to take whatever she said seriously. He was tired, and it was hard to focus, the room blurring and pulsing around him with his weary eyes and pounding headache.

"I need to discuss the curse."

She paused, and when Sebastian cleared his throat, wanting to beg her not to mention it, she held up a hand.

"I need to. It is important. You must let me tell you—it is important."

"Of course, Aunt," Sebastian said softly. "Please, continue." He bit his lip, aching to say something different. He hated the idea of it, the very mention of it. He did not want to believe it, and yet everyone around him insisted on doing just thatdespite his discomfort.

"Well, then," Aunt continued. "I need to tell you that the curse started two generations back. In the time of my great-grandfather. Your great-great-great-grandfather."

"Oh." Sebastian frowned. He had never heard mention of the curse and how it began. He had thought it some wild family story, one with no clear starting point in any remembered account. He tilted his head, interested in spite of his discomfort and skepticism.

"Yes. Your great-great-great-grandfather was an explorer, too, like my papa. He traveled the seas, collecting bounty to bring back to England. He made quite a fortune, and with it he bought one or two of the properties that the family owns even now. But, besides that," she added, waving her hand as though none of that was interesting, "he started a shipping company. In order to fund his venture, he involved the assistance of a particular gentleman who, likewise, had an adventurous soul and an idea of creating wealth and prosperity. This man invested a great deal in the shipping venture." She paused. "Your great-great-great-grandfather, however, was an ambitious man, and, when it came to a risky voyage, he took only the ship that this gentleman had invested in. He did not want to risk his own, you see. The ship sank. All the money was lost. And your great-great-great grandfather lost nothing. The man he had involved was left with nothing."

"No," Sebastian murmured. He stared at the fireplace, imagining the ship being caught in the storm, tossed on the waves. And his great-great-great-grandfather, sitting at home, losing nothing.

"Yes." His aunt paused. "He thought he could turn his back on the fellow, and not recompense him in any way; using his noble rank of Marquess to get away with it. But he did not realise something." "What was that, Aunt?" Sebastian asked, caught up in the tale.

"The man had an aunt," Aunt Tessa continued. She raised one brow. "And she was descended of a Romany bloodline. She had a gift, a mystic gift. And she could curse people."

"Oh," Sebastian breathed. The story was becoming clearer.

"Yes," Aunt repeated. "And so, when she heard of what had happened, and how her nephew had been left without recompense for his investments, she cursed the line of the Marquess. She cursed the Thornton family, saying that our line will wither. She cursed us with our family dying out, Sebastian. With never having heirs, or only one, or with death and suffering in childbirth. Her curse will stand until there are no Thorntons left on this green earth." Her voice was low.

"No," Sebastian breathed.

He stared at his aunt. He had not realized that his fist was clenched in horror. It was a daunting tale, a frightening one. His aunt cleared her throat.

"I need you to do something for me, Sebastian."

"Anything that I can," Sebastian answered. He gazed at her, wishing beyond anything he could think of that she knew some remedy.

"I need you to protect your Lady Glenfield," she said gently. "She is a good soul. A kind soul. She has a gracious heart and I want no harm to come to her."

"Yes, Aunt," Sebastian said at once. "Please tell me—I will do whatever you ask. Please tell me you have some way to protect her."

"Good," Aunt Tessa said softly. "I have something that can help."

"What is it?" Sebastian demanded, straightening up in the chair. It was almost impossible to believe that a remedy to the curse existed. If his aunt's story was even half true, it sounded like the line really was cursed, and that the curse was there without mitigation.

"I have something," his aunt said, standing and going to the writing-desk in the corner. "I have felt moved to give it to you for weeks. I believe it is a means of countering the curse."

She took a small bundle, cloth-wrapped, that fitted neatly into the palm of her hand, out from the writing-case. She brought it to him.

"What is this?" Sebastian asked. "May I open it?"

She nodded. He did so. He frowned. It contained a small newspaper article, the corners yellowing with age, the ink pale blue and fading, the typesetting bigger and clumsier than newspapers he was used to seeing.

"I don't know why, but I think it will help," his aunt said firmly. She pressed it into his hand. "Please, keep it. I believe it will work as a talisman, a sort of charm to protect Eleanor. I don't understand it myself," she added, folding his fingers over it.

Sebastian looked down at his furled hand. He could feel the tiny, folded piece of paper in its cloth wrapping, resting like a feather against his fingers. He looked up at his aunt, feeling his heart fill with warmth and appreciation. She was a dear soul. She was doing her best to protect Eleanor, which was his own heart's deepest desire. He gazed up at his aunt, feeling grateful in a way he could not express.

"Thank you, Aunt," he said softly. "I promise I will give it to her. I promise to do everything I can to keep her safe."

"Good, Bastien. I know that you will do your best."

Sebastian closed his hand tightly around the little talisman and thrust it deep into his pocket, more grateful than he could say that he had something to protect Eleanor.