Chapter Twenty-Two

“W hen was the last time we were all together?” Rory asked Henry and King. The three men sprawled on the couches in Henry’s drawing room. The fire was low but still warm, and they were all full of a delicious, if raucous, dinner. Rory shouldn’t have been surprised that Genevieve made fast friends with the Duchess of Carlisle and Lady Kingston. King might have lost his title, but Rory still thought of him as the Marquess of Kingston. Genevieve seemed to possess that enviable quality of making friends easily and finding herself at home in every situation. He supposed it came from years of working as a governess and having to join a new household and quickly settle in.

Frances had surprised him. She’d easily charmed King’s two boys—his wife’s brothers, whom King treated like sons. Joshua and George, who everyone called Georgie, allowed Frances to order them about and looked at her with a sort of awe. She even convinced Georgie to carry Marcella for her. When Rory had gone to kiss her goodnight in the chamber she’d share with Genevieve and himself, she whispered, “May I have another baby brother, Papa?”

The words had ripped at his heart but given him hope as well. He glanced at Genevieve, and she smiled, clearly thinking the same thing he did. Perhaps one day they would have more children, and Frances would make a wonderful older sister.

“Do you intend to drink that?” King asked Rory. “You’ve been swirling it about all night.”

Rory looked down at his brandy glass, still mostly full.

“You know he can’t hold his drink,” Henry said. “He’ll be snoring in a quarter hour if he consumes that.” He held out a hand. “Let me have it.”

Rory handed it to him. “Why have we never been here before, Henry? I didn’t even know there was a residence on your ancestral land.”

“I can answer that,” King said. “No gambling establishments within an easy distance.”

Henry laughed. “I cannot argue.”

“And you’ve given up cards and dice?” Rory asked.

“I can’t say I don’t still have the urge to gamble,” Henry admitted, “but I’m doing my best to keep it in check. I couldn’t do it without Katie.”

“She’s clearly a good influence on you,” King said.

“And what about you?” Rory asked. “As surprised as I was that Henry married, I was equally surprised that you tied the knot, and to a woman with two children to look after. The boys clearly see you as a father. The little one even calls you Pa.”

“Shocking, isn’t it?” King said. “No one would have ever guessed I’d be a good father. I certainly didn’t have any sort of example in my father.” He looked at Rory. “Speaking of fathers, I wrote to yours.”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“He was one of the few in the Lords who didn’t vote for attainder by verdict. My father deserved to be found guilty by treason, but your father argued that I had no part in his acts and shouldn’t be punished along with him. I appreciated his support, even if the vote went the other way.”

“Once in a while, he does the right thing,” Rory said. “And I have enough money for the three of us. I know you won’t take a gift.” He held a hand up. “Consider it a loan with generous terms. No interest, and the principle is due in one hundred years.”

“Henry might still have some pride,” King said, “but Vi will have my head if I don’t accept your offer. She wants to open another tavern in Soho. It’s a good idea to get the boys out of Seven Dials.”

“Consider it done. I’d like to do something good with Harriet’s money, and Frances need never worry, as money was set aside for her dowry as soon as she was born.”

“Speaking of children,” King said, “Frances is a force to be reckoned with. She reminds me much more of you than Harriet.”

“How so?”

“She has the ability to take charge. I remember at every new school, it would take you about three hours before you had three or four boys acting as footmen for you. Joshua and Georgie never had a chance.”

Henry sat, his feet thudding on the floor. “Rory, I wish King and I could have done more for you after the accident.”

Rory shook his head. “You both tried. I should have let you help instead of running away. Frances paid the price when I ran. I’m trying to repair the relationship now.”

“Yes, but how will you ever repair your reputation?” Henry asked. “What can you have been thinking running around the Continent with Munro Notley? You know what they call him—Mr. Notorious.”

Rory nodded. “I can’t say I’d ever heard of him before we met in Venice. He does seem to cause trouble wherever he goes.”

“He has a reputation as a notorious rake,” King added.

“He’s back on the Continent already,” Rory said. “I’m sure my marriage to my governess has overtaken any talk of my friendship with Notley.”

Henry sat back again. “I like your Genevieve. If she’d been my governess, I would have turned out much better.”

“I agree,” King said. “She’s formidable but kind. I can tell she loves Frances already.”

Rory nodded. He could see it too. He thought she might also love him almost as much as Violet and Katie loved King and Henry respectively. “We’ve all been very fortunate in our choice of wives,” he said. “Quite a coup for men who were called Misfortune’s Favorites throughout school.”

“Speaking of school, let’s get to the point of this reunion,” Henry said. “The curse.”

King groaned, and Rory wished he still had that glass of brandy.

“Did you two bring your parts of the counter-spell?” Henry asked. The men nodded, and Henry rose and moved to a round table. “Let’s have a look at it all together.”

King and Rory followed him to the table. King pulled out his yellowed piece of parchment. He had the largest section and the first lines of the counter-spell. He laid it on the table, followed by Rory’s lines. His had obviously been ripped from the same paper as King’s. The two pieces fit perfectly.

Finally, Rory withdrew his slip of paper and laid it beneath Henry’s. “A perfect fit,” he said.

“What does it mean?” King asked. He looked at Rory. “You always believed in witches and magic far more than Henry and me. What do you think? Can the curse be undone?”

“I don’t know. The spell doesn’t say the curse will be undone. It says clear the smear . Perhaps that’s some sort of black mark against us that can be wiped away.”

“A black mark against us,” Henry said thoughtfully. “Have we been marked in some cosmic reckoning book?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to return to where it all started and see what we find.”

“I, for one, am not looking forward to seeing St. Andrew’s again,” King said.

“It’s abandoned now,” Henry added. “The school closed a few years after we left. Apparently, one boy was beaten so badly he almost died, and Cameron fled the country. The students were withdrawn, and the school closed.”

“I had no idea,” Rory said.

Henry nodded. “I looked into it a couple of weeks ago, when I knew you two were coming. So at least we won’t have to see Cameron.”

“I hope the bastard is dead,” King said.

“So do I.” Rory picked up the counter-spell. “We should put this somewhere safe.”

Henry held out a hand. “I have a small box that will do. It will be dawn in a few hours. We should go to bed.”

“One more question,” King said. “When do we leave for Scotland?”

“As soon as possible,” Rory said. “I suggest we rest and pack tomorrow and leave at first light the next day. How long will it take to get there?” He raised his brows at Henry.

“If the weather is good, four or five hours,” Henry answered.

“So we’ll arrive in daylight, then,” King said. “I rather thought we’d ride in at midnight with thunder booming and lightning flashing.”

“Sorry to spoil your grand entrance,” Rory said, “but we may leave the dramatics to the witch.”

“If she’s still alive,” Henry said.

“Well, someone is alive.” Rory gestured to the counter-spell in Henry’s hand. “I didn’t imagine the old woman who put that paper in my hand.”

The three men stared at the paper for a long moment.

“Do you think she’s waiting for us?” Henry asked.

“Yes,” King said, and Rory agreed.

*

They didn’t leave quite at dawn two days later. Rory knew it was no small feat to organize three coaches, six couples, three children, and assorted outriders, coachmen, and cattle, but at least they were well on their way before noon. As was typical, Henry’s estimate of four to five hours’ traveling time was generous. He was always overly optimistic, and Rory’s watch read quarter past seven by the time the coaches entered the courtyard of an inn situated in the Scottish town where the school had been located.

“It’s grown a bit,” Rory observed as they drove through the town. “I don’t remember this many buildings.”

“Let’s just hope the inn has enough rooms and hot water,” Genevieve said.

“And dinner,” Frances added. “I’m famished.”

“You ate all the food we brought in the picnic basket,” Rory said. “How can you still be hungry?”

“Mama Genevieve says I’m growing like a weed, and weeds need lots of food.”

Rory looked at his wife. “A weed?”

She gave a delicate shrug. “That’s what my mother used to say.” She leaned close to him and whispered, “Before she yanked them out of the ground, so they didn’t steal her roses’ food.”

Rory laughed, pulled her close, and kissed her.

“Ew!” Frances said, and Rory and Genevieve laughed.

Soon everyone piled out of the coaches and into the inn, and the next couple hours were spent eating, unpacking, and arguing over sleeping arrangements. King and Violet were given the largest chamber, and Frances wanted to sleep in their room so she could be with the other children. Genevieve finally allowed it, after telling Violet she could send the girl back to their room if she insisted on giggling all night instead of sleeping.

Considering Violet had all but raised her two brothers on her own in the most dangerous rookery in London, Rory had a feeling Frances would not pose much of a challenge. When Genevieve returned from settling the child, he closed the door and locked it.

She turned to him and smiled. “Alone at last.”

He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. She felt soft and warm against him. She felt right .

She tilted her chin up to gaze at him. “It feels as though it’s been months since we were alone. Who knows when we’ll get another chance?”

“We’d better make the most of it, then.” He stripped off his coat, and she withdrew the pins from her hair. The red curls bounced down over her shoulders, the lamplight behind her making them look fiery. Rory untied his cravat, and Genevieve loosened her fichu and set it aside. He unfastened the buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Genevieve undid her bodice and tossed it aside, then reached for her skirt as he reached for the fastenings to his trousers. Her skirts pooled on the floor, and his trousers joined them.

“How is it I am naked, and you still have layers to go?” he asked, indicating her stays, petticoats, and chemise.

“You could help me,” she suggested.

He shook his head and lay down on the bed. “I’ll watch…and wait.”

She began untying her petticoats. “I heard you and the other men discussing returning to the school tomorrow,” she said. She looked up at him as her petticoat slid down. Rory sighed as he realized she wore another pair underneath. “I want to go with you.”

“To the school? Why?”

“I want to see it. That place had such an influence on your life—on all of your lives. It’s an important place to you, and I want to know what it looks like, what it feels like.”

Her other petticoat slid down, and she came to sit on the bed, giving him her back so he could loosen her stays.

“I don’t want to bring Frances,” he said after a moment. “I don’t want her to ever go near that place.”

Genevieve stood and wiggled out of the stays, clad only in her chemise and stockings now. “I imagine Violet and Katie will want to see it as well. If so, Joshua can stay back with Frances. He seems a responsible enough boy, and he’s used to watching over his little brother.”

“I trust your judgment,” he said, his mouth going dry as she reached for the drawstring of her chemise. Then she pulled her hand away and sat on the bed.

“I forgot my stockings.” She leaned down to remove them, and Rory, impatient now, picked her up and tossed her on the bed. He straddled her, grasping her wrists and securing them over her head. Then he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, and finally her mouth. She returned his kiss with an urgency he felt all the way to his toes. The kiss deepened, and he released her wrists to twine the fingers of his hands with hers. Hands clasped together, he pulled back and looked down at her. She looked up at him with such desire and such love that it all but stole his breath.

That look was all he’d ever wanted. His entire life he’d sought to feel worthy, to feel wanted, to feel loved. At two and twenty, he thought he’d found what he sought, but his wife hadn’t loved him, and he’d done everything he could to earn her love. In the end, he’d walked away, feeling worthless and undeserving of any love.

But now Genevieve gazed at him with so much yearning and desire, he couldn’t help but feel loved. He’d done nothing to deserve it. She hadn’t even said she loved him. But he knew , just as he knew he loved her back—though just the thought of admitting such a vulnerability made him tremble.

Instead, he kissed her again and showed her how much he loved her. He undressed her tenderly, kissing every inch of her as it was revealed. When he had her naked and panting beneath him, he parted her legs and slid into her warm heat as slowly as he could manage. She moaned and wrapped her legs around him, her gaze hot on his. He watched the play of emotions on her face as he moved slowly within her. He couldn’t believe there had been a time in his life when he hadn’t known this woman, and he couldn’t begin to imagine a life without her in it.

“Rory,” she gasped, and slid her hands over his arms, arching up to meet him. He went over the edge with her, clasping her to him, and when they finally came back to earth, she turned to him and smiled. “It’s different every time,” she murmured, tracing a path on his chest. “How can that be?”

“We’ll see if you’re still saying that twenty years from now.”

She chuckled. “I like hearing you talk about the future. I hope after this you’re able to put the past behind you.”

For so long Rory hadn’t ever thought that would be possible. But now it seemed not only possible but certain. “For someone who had to be persuaded to marry me, you seem quite content.” He raised himself on one elbow and gazed down at her. “Are you happy?”

“I couldn’t be happier,” she said. “I don’t know what I was so afraid of. I thought—” She waved whatever she was about to say away.

“Tell me,” he said, catching her hand and kissing her palm.

“I thought if I married you, I’d be under your thumb, like another member of your household. I’m thirty, not eighteen, and I’m used to my independence. I liked being able to move from one position to another if I didn’t like the one I was in.”

“And how do you like your position now?” he asked, pushing her hair away from her face.

She smiled. “I don’t know what I was worried about.” She put a hand on the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss, but then she shook her head. “Actually, I do know what I was afraid of.”

“What’s that?”

“Losing you,” she said. “I didn’t want to come to care for you and then lose you. I don’t know what will happen at the school tomorrow or at the end of this quest, but I’m still afraid of losing you. I may not believe in this curse, but I know you do. I almost lost you once because of it.”

“I didn’t want you to be hurt because of my mistakes.”

She cupped his face. “The only way I’ll be hurt is if you shut me out again or turn away from me.”

“Never,” he vowed, making a promise to himself as well as to her.

*

“Does it look smaller to you, or am I just imagining things?” Henry asked the next afternoon as the three men and their wives stood before the old school building.

“It definitely looks smaller,” King agreed. “I could have sworn it was five or six floors in my mind, but it’s only two.”

“In my memory, it was miles long,” Rory said, looking from left to right. “But it’s not much larger than your country house Henry—er, former country house,” he added, remembering Henry lost Carlisle Hall in a game of chance.

“Things always seem larger in our memories,” Henry’s wife said.

“That and you were probably smaller the last time you looked at the place,” Genevieve added. “The building isn’t much to look at, but I imagine the view at the top of that rise is lovely.”

“It is,” Henry said. “It overlooks the village.”

“Shall we leave the men to their reminiscing and walk that way?” the Duchess of Carlisle asked.

“We shall.” Genevieve linked arms with the other two, and the ladies strolled toward the rise they’d always called St. Andrew’s Hill.

“That was nicely done,” King said. “What happens now? We’re here. We’re at the start. Shouldn’t something be happening?”

“Maybe we need to say a spell?” Henry said.

“I don’t know any spells,” Rory said. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t start chanting one. Let’s have a look around.”

Rory led the three of them through the broken gate to the school and onto the grounds. He was often the leader of the three, always pretending to be brave, even when he didn’t feel particularly so. He wasn’t afraid now. Too many memories assailed him for him to remember to feel fear. He recalled standing at that front window, watching as his parents climbed into their coach and drove away. He could picture himself staring out the window of the classroom on the ground floor, wishing he were outside instead of conjugating Latin verbs. As they circled the school, the men gravitated toward the windows that had been Cameron’s office. As if by tacit agreement, they approached and peered inside. The draperies had been pulled over one window, but they hung down on another, giving Rory a view inside.

The furnishings had been removed, but he could still picture the desk and the single chair before it. He’d occupied that chair many times. When all three boys were called in together, they’d argued who would stand and who would take the chair before being ushered inside. More than the chair, though, he remembered the rug. How many times had he lain bruised and battered on that rug and wished he were somewhere—anywhere—else? Rory didn’t know where that rug was now, but he imagined the spatters of his blood were woven into the fabric.

“There’s the dining hall,” Rory said, beckoning them forward and pointing to several rectangular windows. “That’s where we discussed the idea of stealing the whiskey from the…the old woman.”

“Should we break a window and go inside?” Henry asked. “Maybe that’s what it means— return to the start .”

“I don’t want to go in there,” Rory said.

“Neither do I,” King admitted, “but nothing is happening outside.” He walked away and returned a moment later with a large rock, which he hurled at the window, breaking one of the thick glass panes. Rory had the urge to look over his shoulder to see if they’d been caught vandalizing the property.

“Feels like old times,” Henry said, smiling at him. “I’m half afraid an adult will emerge and start yelling at us any second.”

“Somehow we’ve become the adults,” King said, studying his work. “That hole isn’t large enough. I’ll get another rock.”

“Why don’t we try the door?” Rory suggested, pointing to the side of the building and a door they had often used to visit the privies that used to stand behind the school.

“I’ll feel like an idiot if the door is open,” King said.

The three marched to the door and Rory tried it. “Locked,” he said. “Watch out.”

Henry held up a hand. “Rory, are you—Oh, apparently you are.”

Rory turned sideways, aimed a shoulder at the door, and rushed forward. The door burst inward, as did the pain in his shoulder.

“That looked painful,” King said, shoving the door free of its hinges. Rory rotated his shoulder and winced, then followed King and Henry inside.

The school smelled the same, a mixture of lye and wood polish and something else—burned onions? Despair? Mold? Most of the dining hall furniture had been removed, but there was the odd broken chair in a corner and an overturned bench draped with cobwebs. At one time the room housed two long trestle tables that seated about twenty boys each.

Rory walked to the rear of the room. “We sat here, yes?”

“The end of the first table,” King agreed. “That looks correct.” He joined Rory.

Henry walked over, standing across from them. “What now? Shouldn’t thunder rumble and lightning flash? We’ve returned to the start. This is where King first proposed the idea.”

“I?” King put his hands on his hips. “It was Rory’s idea.”

“Ha. I’m the only one who believed in witches. It wasn’t my idea.”

“Well, it wasn’t mine,” Henry said.

“It started with a dare,” Rory said. “We were all idiots and couldn’t refuse a dare.”

King and Henry nodded, seeming to remember now. The three men looked about the room.

“Nothing is happening,” Henry muttered. “Should we say something? Maybe we should read the counter-spell.” He pulled it from his coat pocket.

Rory shrugged and leaned close to see the paper, though he had it memorized.

“Procure petal of flower, dash of dust of the fae,” they said in unison.

“I feel like an idiot,” King said between gritted teeth.

“Stubble it,” Henry ordered him. “Next line.”

“Combine now in this goblet, please if you may.” He raised a hand, as though holding a goblet, and nodded at the others to do so as well. Rory sighed and followed suit, but King just glowered at Henry. “Hear me now, great goddess of good and light.” Henry lowered his hands and gave King a long look. “We must really mean this part. Say it loud.”

“Hear me now, great goddess of good and light,” the men repeated.

“Louder!”

“Hear me now, great goddess of good and light!”

A crash echoed through the room, and Rory jumped. Henry whirled, and King said, “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, Rory thought the witch or her sister had appeared, but it was only Joshua Baker, Violet’s brother.

The lad who was supposed to be watching Frances.

“She’s gone!” Joshua said.

Rory couldn’t say how, but he knew the lad meant Frances. He sprinted across the room and grasped him by the shoulders. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” the boy said, his voice hitching. “She was there one moment and then gone.”

“People don’t simply disappear. Where is she?”

King put a hand on Rory’s shoulder. “You’re scaring the boy.”

“He’s not the only one who’s bloody scared,” Rory said. He looked up to see Genevieve at the door.

“I saw Joshua running toward the school,” she said, breathless. “And Georgie found Violet and said Frances is missing.”

“Yes, my lady,” Joshua said, tears spilling down his cheeks now. “I can’t find her.”

“Were you playing hide-and-seek?” Genevieve asked, voice calm, but Rory could hear the way it trembled. “She’s very good at hiding.”

“No.” Joshua shook his head. “She was playing with her dolls in the public room. Georgie and I were there too. I was reading one of the books we brought to him. Like you said to do.” He looked at King, who nodded. “I was sitting right across from her. She was there when I started the book. The next time I looked, she was gone.” He swiped at his nose. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Did you look for her?” Genevieve asked.

Joshua nodded.

“Where did you look?” Rory asked.

“Everywhere. I even had the innkeeper and the maids search for her. She’s gone.”

Genevieve looked at Rory. “She can’t have gone far on her own. We’ll go back now, search the village—”

“Was anyone else in the public room with you?” King asked. “Besides the innkeeper and the serving maids coming in and out?”

“No.” Joshua shook his head. “Well, yes. There was a woman. She was in the far corner near the fire. But we were quiet and didn’t bother her.”

Rory’s stomach flipped. “What did she look like?”

Joshua shrugged. “Like an old woman.”

“What was she wearing?” Rory demanded.

Genevieve held up a hand. “Joshua, can you describe her? What color hair? What was she wearing?”

At the door, Violet and Katie appeared, Violet holding George’s hand.

Joshua nodded. “Long white hair. I didn’t see her face, not really, and I didn’t notice her clothing. She was dressed like someone we’d see at home,” he said, glancing at his sister.

“So not well dressed?” Genevieve asked. “Her clothing was old and mended?”

But Rory didn’t need to hear any more to know who she was. He’d met her weeks ago on that field in the early morning.

His gaze locked with Genevieve’s, and he said, “The witch’s sister took Frances.”