Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Cowpen Dale

Church service

Sunday morning

Pip was fidgeting, nothing new in that. Grayson took his son's hand, gave it a light squeeze, and whispered against Pip's ear, "By my watch, we have three more minutes before Vicar Harkness gives the benediction. Three minutes, Pip, I know you can hold still for three more minutes."

Pip gave his father his never-fail adorable kid smile and pinched Brady's elbow. Brady took Pip's fingers and squeezed them, making Pip squeak. P.C. smacked her fist down on Brady's thigh, frowned at him, and scooted closer to her mother in case he retaliated.

After Vicar Harkness gave his too-long benediction, Mrs. Mason blasted the congregation with her favorite organ recessional.

Once outside, the Wolffe ladies were trapped by Mrs. Harkness, leaving Grayson with the children. P.C. said to Grayson, "Sir, Mama told me she's heard the new earl looks like a romantic prince. When I told her she looked like a romantic princess—I must be honest—Mama looked interested. But then I reminded her if she were untrue to you, you might never take us on adventures again. She laughed, kissed me, told me our future adventures were safe—and that's a good start."

Pip said, "I told you, P.C., this romantic prince can't have Miranda, she's ours."

From the mouth of a five-year-old. Grayson could see Miranda only yesterday lifting Pip over her head and laughing, then kissing him all over his face when he'd told her she had a tear in her stocking.

P.C. said, "Sir, when will we meet Lily? Why isn't she here? Why isn't the earl here? Is he a sinner? Grandmama said the nicer looking the man the more wicked he is. Mama said your name and allowed that could be true."

Grayson rather liked the sound of that.

Brady said, "That ain't—isn't nice, P.C. My papa said good things about the earl, not a word about any sinner business. I do wonder why the earl didn't bring Lily to church. Nice name, not all mortifying like your name, P.C."

To forestall fisticuffs, Grayson said easily, "We're all invited to Storne Hope for luncheon. You'll meet Lily. Max—the earl—has a lot to do before he can properly welcome us. This is your treat for behaving so well in church." Well, it was somewhat the truth.

Grayson was as sure as he could be Prithius would not appear at Storne Hope, not in the chilly harsh sunlight of this fine Sunday. He was a night demon, only hunting when it was dark and quiet and his prey was alone and asleep. He prayed he now knew enough to deal with the wretched incubus, to send him back to Manna. Tonight. And when night fell, Grayson planned to return to Storne Hope. Lily would drop her cloak and Prithius would scent her and come.

Even though he believed he knew what to do, Grayson still worried. What if those pages penned hundreds of years ago by the ancient wizard crouched in his cave in the Bulgur were figments of a fractured brain? You could never be certain if a wizard was outright lying or giving honest instructions as he knew them—like throwing the dust that came from inside a long-dead priest's thigh bone into a demon's face. He had to remind himself he was a wizard, he could make things happen. But would it be enough?

But today in the bright sunlight the children would all meet, and hopefully they would all like each other.

Miranda and Grayson sat close as the Great's carriage bounced on its way to Storne Hope, each very aware of the other, listening with only half an ear to the children's word game they didn't understand at all but still brought gales of laughter and ferocious insults. He felt the warmth of her, smelled the light verbena fragrance. He said close to her ear, "Did you really look interested when you heard Max looked like a romantic prince?"

He looked into her beautiful eyes and saw his reflection—and deviltry. She leaned close. "Can you doubt it, Grayson? As a local romantic princess, don't you think it would be a perfect match?"

Grayson wanted to kiss her, maybe lightly bite her lip. He said, "It's true what Pip said, you're ours."

"Well," she said, squeezing his hand, "there is that." A pause, then another wicked smile, a whisper. "Ah, but to be a princess—it's difficult, Grayson, so many choices to make, so many hearts to break—" And she grinned, touched her gloved hand to his, and thought about how very fascinating life had become since a wizard have moved into her neighborhood. Odd how she'd never considered wizards actually existing out of the pages of books, but now—oh yes. He was her very own wizard.

She tucked her hand into his, and together they watched Pip giggle as Brady tickled him and told him he was a right proper little pickle, P.C. looking on, so pleased with Brady and his nearly perfect English she didn't correct his grammar when he slipped. At least not on Sundays.

He heard P.C. say, "Brady, Cook told Grandmama the new earl has a big orange cat named Clotis. Do you think we should introduce Musgrave to Clotis? Maybe they'll like each other."

Pip said, "They'll either lick each other or fight to the death."

P.C. said matter-of-factly, "You know Musgrave is too lazy to hiss at another cat or puff up his tail. He'll start licking and hope for the best."

Brady grinned. "Papa told me before church Mr. Harmon's got a litter of King Charles spaniels—you know the dogs with the floppy ears? Papa said they feel like silk and I can pick out the one I want. Maybe two. I think Musgrave will like a puppy, probably lick him bald."

"Papa, can I have a King Charles puppy too? Remember, you said you'd think about a dog—"

Grayson's first thought was to wonder what would happen to his new Turkish carpet when a puppy forgot himself. Did Haddock like dogs? He didn't know. But who could resist a puppy?

Thankfully, before he could answer, Brady said, "What should I name him? Or them?"

Name discussions led to arguments and insults until ten minutes later when the Great's old creaking coach with its shining eagle on the side pulled up in front of Storne Hope.

P.C. looked up at the stone crenellations, the ivy-covered walls, the shining windows, and said to her mama, "It looks very romantic, Mama, just like it should with a romantic prince living here. I will tell you what I think of the new earl so you will know whether or not to show him any interest."