Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

C harlie leaned against the black leather squabs in the carriage and gazed at the injured man lying in the seat across from her. His eyes were closed, but she remembered them as sky blue. Even with a well-sprung carriage, the road was rugged, and the poor man groaned each time the conveyance hit a bump.

"I hope the sheriff gets there soon. I don't want Caden guarding those brutes on his own," the Dowager Countess Winnie Penrose lamented. "Caden should have ridden ahead to fetch the doctor."

"I already sent a footman ahead to fetch the doctor," Charlie told her grandmother. "And Caden is not alone, Mr. Bronson is with him. Besides, those thieves were still unconscious when we left, and you didn't see how Caden had them all tied up. Honestly, I don't know where Caden learned how to tie knots like that. There is no way those thieves are getting loose."

Her gaze returned to the man stretched out on the seat across from her and her grandmother. "It looks like he is bleeding again. I don't think the binding I made from my shift is holding." Drat! The original bindings she'd made from the gentleman's fine shirt sleeves had been drenched with blood, and so she had to act swiftly. She thought she'd made the fresh bindings tight enough to keep the pressure on his wound. She lifted the bottom of her traveling dress, having changed back in the carriage, while her grandmother covered the poor man's eyes. Exposing the torn underskirt, she was about to rip another section, but her grandmother stayed her hand.

"I can help you double the bindings, and you won't have to tear up the rest of your shift," the dowager said. She leaned down and opened a small box beneath her seat and retrieved a tightly wound roll of white cloth. "Here, use this."

Charlie grinned. "You just happened to have these in your carriage, and you said nothing earlier?"

Her grandmother shrugged. "My dear, one needs to be prepared. As far as not saying anything, you seemed determined, and you had already begun ripping at your shift before I could stop you, so I thought it best to let you finish. But now, I'm afraid you will be completely without a shift if I allow that to continue. Not a suitable appearance for a young lady."

Charlie smiled at her very proper grandmother. Witch or not, Grandmama was a lady through and through. The two of them made quick work of rebinding the man's wounded arm. But lifting him to bind up his knife wound was another matter. She turned to her grandmother and was about to ask for permission to use her gifts when the older woman anticipated her request yet again and whispered, "Very well, but just this once."

Charlie smiled and kissed her grandmother on the cheek. She turned back to the man and noted his eyes were closed, but she didn't want to take any chances. Covering his eyes just in case, she wiggled her index finger, making the bandage swirl snuggly around the man's muscled torso. She knotted the bandage and leaned back to inspect her work. "I think that should hold him until the doctor can see him."

The old woman nodded as she studied the wounded man for a moment. "He's a big fellow, isn't he? Looks strong as an ox, I'm sure he'll mend quickly. Handsome too, wouldn't you say?"

Charlie's hands trembled at her grandmother's words. She leaned over and fussed with the knot of the binding on the chest wound, avoiding the dowager's all-too-shrewd eyes. Of course, Charlie thought him most handsome, but she wouldn't admit that to Grandmama.

"I feel for the dear boy," the dowager continued, "but I don't think his pain is overwhelming—which is a good thing. Despite the rough road, he's managed to remain asleep."

"I hope so," Charlie said, as she checked the knot on his arm once more to make certain it was secure as well. "There was an awful lot of blood."

"Well, it's a good thing we have little farther to travel."

After a few more moments of fussing with the bindings, Charlie finally sat back in the seat next to her grandmother. "Do you plan to tell Mama and Papa everything? " she blurted. She was thankful that her parents weren't there, at least. They'd decided to visit her newly married sister, Caroline, in Kent before traveling on to Bocka Morrow. Carrie, who was pregnant, lived a good distance from their family's home in Cornwall, and since twins ran in both their family and Carrie's husband's family, their mother had insisted on checking in with her before traveling on to their townhouse.

"Mmm. I suspect your mother has already seen the incident as it was taking place," the dowager whispered. "She cannot resist peeking in her looking glass. But I'll wager she's said nothing to your father…yet."

"Could you speak to Mama?" Charlie begged. "Please convince her not to tell Papa?"

The dowager gave an exasperated sigh. "Charlotte, you know your mother and father have a special bond. They never lie to each other. Your mother knows that your father objects when you use your… skills in public. Of course, she will tell him. Secrets in a marriage are never good. You would do well to remember that, my darling girl."

"But I didn't… Not really," Charlie said in her defense. "Besides, it was a matter of life and death."

Her grandmother gave her that look that Papa called the, should I believe my eyes or your lies look.

It was a look Charlie knew better than to ignore. She swallowed. "Yes, well. I suppose there wa s that pistol I zapped out of one of the highwayman's hands just before he fired a second time at the poor gentleman," she whispered. "But that was only because I had my hands full." She gazed at the deliciously handsome man lying on the bench seat across from them and only resisted the urge to reach out and ruffle his dark wavy hair by sitting on her hands.

The dowager cupped Charlie's cheek. "My dear, you have a heart as big as the moon. I'm sure your mama will be circumspect about this lapse in judgment given the circumstances."

"And you will speak to Mama when we see her?"

"I will do what I can," the dowager replied. "We shall have to see how your mother reacts when she and your father arrive. Right now, they want to make sure all is well with your sister." The old woman patted Charlie's hand. "Now, sit back and calm yourself. Cuddle Chapelle or something." She looked around. "Where is that cat?"

Charlie couldn't help but grin as she nodded toward the man across from her. "Chapelle is riding his horse, Justice, behind us—with a footman, of course." She paused as her gaze took in the gentleman's sleeping visage. High cheekbones, a strong square jaw with a dimple in the center that she longed to touch. And those tantalizing azure eyes that left her impatient to see them again. "I wish I knew more about him."

Her grandmother gave her a sly smile. "There are things, my dear, that despite my advanced age, I understand." She lowered her voice again and whispered, "However, this mortal world we live in does not. And the man lying on that bench hails from that world—even if his beauty is godly. You simply must…"

"But he would have died, Grandmama," Charlie persisted. "I couldn't allow that to happen."

"We both know you could have intervened without giving yourself away, darling grandchild. Now we must try to find out if he did indeed see everything and decipher his attitude toward you. The man is mortal, after all, and may not understand our… ways . And for goodness' sake! Tell your cat to hide herself in the horse's mane. What if she's seen by someone we pass on the road or in town?"

Her grandmother's whisper became almost shrill, and Charlie recognized the need to repair the situation immediately. She closed her eyes and sent Chapelle a quick thought message to behave herself.

Don't worry, Charlie, I'll be as meek as a mouse.

Charlie smiled at the cat's cheeky reply. Chapelle was as droll as she was clever. For the moment, she felt grateful the wounded man was unconscious and couldn't hear their conversation. At least, she hoped he could not. She hung her head and studied her hands. "I apologize, Grandmama. You are right. I should have considered the consequences… But there is something special about him that calls to me." She raised her head and looked at her grandmother. "Am I being foolish?"

"What I see is a young woman with a romantic soul," her grandmother said. "However, I do agree with you, there is something about him. But take care, or all that you are hoping to achieve may unravel before it's even begun."

Of course, the dowager knew what Charlie was thinking. Nothing got past Grandmama…or Mama, for that matter . Charlie needed to be less obvious, or she would have no chance to stay a step ahead of her parents. "You will help me, then?"

The dowager smiled. "Of course. After all, you are my favorite granddaughter."

"Grandmama," Charlie said with a giggle before hugging the old woman's neck, "you said that to Caroline just before she left on her honeymoon last year."

Her Grandmother shrugged. "Can I help it that I have two favorite granddaughters?"

The horses slowed, and her grandmother peered out the carriage window. "It seems we have reached the edge of town. It shouldn't be much longer before we arrive at the townhouse."

Charlie smiled at the dowager's use of the word "townhouse" in reference to the massive three-storied mansion that the locals had dubbed Rose Manse. Built of rose-colored stone, Charlie thought it was the most beautiful house in the world, next to their family estate in Cornwall. Even though they visited Bocka Morrow once a year for the Drakos' annual ball, Charlie always felt at home.

Ten minutes later, the call of a raven perched above the front door announced their arrival.

"I wondered where Sven had flown to," her grandmother murmured under her breath. "He's a very protective bird."

"Sven is always one step ahead of us, Grandmama." Her grandmother's bird could be unnerving, but she supposed no more so than Chapelle, who at this moment was sitting astride Justice, hopefully, hidden in his mane.

"He's extremely beneficial to have on these trips," Grandmama acknowledged.

Gas lamps cast a welcoming glow from the entrance as a heavy oak door opened and a tall, thin man with sparse hair stepped out, immediately taking charge. With an uncanny ability to assess things, Harrison scanned the carriage, and the horses stopped behind it. Discreetly, from his place at the door, Harrison signaled for the stable hand to take the horses to the mews. He then ordered a small army of liveried footmen to assist Charlie and the dowager from the carriage, carry the wounded gentleman inside, and remove the luggage to their rooms. Charlie was in awe that the butler had seen to everything in the span of a few moments.

As Charlie and her grandmother reached the top step, the wiry man bowed. "Welcome, Lady Penrose, Lady Charlotte. Doctor Thakur arrived moments ago and is waiting in the blue guest room to see to the gentleman."

"Good, good!" the dowager said. "I appreciate your usual thoroughness. Make sure the staff are gentle with the poor young man. His wounds have us quite concerned."

"Yes, my lady. And I will have the doctor examine the gentleman's horse once he's attended to his patient," Harrison added.

An hour later, Charlie emerged from her room, feeling refreshed after a bath and a change of dresses—one more suitable for a late dinner. Her stomach growled, reminding her it would be some time before they could dine. She paused outside the guestroom, wanting so much to go inside and speak to the doctor as he tended the wounded man, but Grandmama would frown upon that. She would have to be patient and wait for permission.

Making her way downstairs, Charlie knocked on the parlor door and waited for the dowager to bid her enter. Stepping inside the cheery room, she approached her grandmother, who was reviewing correspondence. The older woman looked up and gave a wry smile. "It's hard to believe this is only a holiday home. One might think with this much correspondence we lived here year-round."

"Harrison always takes care of having the mail redirected when he knows we are coming," Charlie admitted.

"Hmm. Yes. Not much gets past that one," the dowager said, reading a missive and placing it back on the desk. "How long will your brother be gone?"

"Caden should be back soon. He planned to accompany the sheriff and his men when they picked up the highwaymen."

"Good. I need to make him aware of a few things," the dowager muttered.

"I'm starving and wondering about dinner," Charlie said, as she watched her grandmother shove a small address book into the drawer of her desk. The rose-themed parlor was large enough to accommodate both her mother's and grandmother's needs. With subtle hints of gold in the off-white wallpaper, the space looked more expansive than it was. Rose-colored drapes framed a large picture window in the center of the front wall. To the left sat a tall, maple secretary, and to the right, an oversized gold and white settee with three matching chairs provided a cozy sitting area.

"You worked up an appetite fending off the bandits with your brother. But we will wait for Caden to return before we dine."

Charlie nodded, hoping Caden would hurry.

"Now then," the dowager continued. "Sit, and I shall tell you all of what I have learned."

Charlie followed her grandmother to the settee and sat beside her.

"Harrison has informed me he spoke with Mr. Bronson upon his arrival. Caden had evidently insisted that one footman accompany Mr. Bronson here as soon as the sheriff and his men arrived to haul those ruffians away. Apparently, the highwaymen have been plaguing the main road into Bocka Morrow for months. The sheriff had been unable to apprehend them until you and Caden did his work for him." The dowager harrumphed. "I always considered Sheriff Slothman to be lackadaisical, but I realize he is as incompetent as he is lazy."

"It's a good thing Caden is there to make sure the sheriff locks the highwaymen in the local gaol," Charlie said.

"Yes, but what will happen after Caden leaves? Will the sheriff send for the magistrate? He can't keep them locked up in town indefinitely.

"When Mama and Papa get here, Papa will step in and make certain Sheriff Slothman does his due diligence," Charlie said. She was eager to hear more about their handsome houseguest upstairs. "What else did Harrison say?"

The dowager regarded her with shrewd eyes. "Harrison also found out who our injured guest is. He is Lord Logan Thomas, the Fifth Earl of Fitzwater. From what I know of the Fitzwater family, they have the Prince Regent's ear and are very influential." She looked up at Charlie. "Not a man to be taken lightly, if you ken my meaning. And based on the seriousness of the earl's wounds, he and Mr. Bronson will remain as our guests for at least a week, perhaps longer. I have instructed Harrison to make certain the members of the household staff understand the situation and behave accordingly around Lord Fitzwater and Mr. Bronson, and to be careful of what they say, even if they think no one is around to overhear it."

"Yes, undoubtedly you are right about their need to stay and the importance of the staff being careful." Charlie swallowed hard. Is Grandmama unhappy with me? "I know it will be a challenge. But it could not be avoided. We had to help."

"Yes, darling. I know you did," her grandmother said with a tender smile. "But you must remember, mortals view us with suspicion and hostility in this world. So many of our sisters have been tortured and put to death as recently as my lifetime. We must be careful with our gifts."

Grandmother was right. Charlie worried her bottom lip, knowing her mother had most likely seen everything that had transpired through her looking glass. But Charlie wouldn't know if Mama had shared her vision with Papa—until she saw her. There were but a handful of days until the ball, so she wouldn't be in suspense for very long. Mama had a hard time not saying what was on her mind and would likely address the subject upon their arrival.

"That reminds me," the dowager continued. "The modiste will be here the day after tomorrow with the dresses we commissioned when we were here last. Your mother's idea of having our dresses made so far in advance was a smart one. Had we waited, we might have missed out on that delicious opalescent silk. I, for one, cannot wait to see the gowns."

"I cannot wait to see Rose," Charlie said, not caring about the fancy fabric. "She'll be here the same day as the modiste, before the fitting, I hope."

"I'm sure she will be, dear."

"Yes, and it was nice of her parents to allow her to join us for this year's ball. Otherwise, she would not have been able to come." Rose was her best friend and had been since the cradle. She couldn't wait to tell her all about the skirmish with the highwaymen and their daring rescue of the handsome earl.

Her grandmother regarded her with an arched brow. "Doctor Thakur is still with the earl," she said, clearly reading her thoughts. "I think we should discuss the situation and decide how you plan to explain it to your parents. Remember, less is more. Your parents should be here before the ball, so there is plenty of time to speak to them."

"Yes, Grandmama," Charlie said, looking down and examining her fingernails. She hated when she upset her grandmother—the one person she could always count on to be her champion.

"I believe," the dowager continued, adjusting her spectacles on the end of her nose as she sorted through the invitations from the silver salver, "This couldn't be helped. And based on what we now understand, these bandits have been plaguing this area for months." The dowager peered above the top of the glasses at Charlie. "You and Caden did the community a tremendous service, although if they knew how you did it, their appreciation would sour. Mortals can be so fickle."

"Yes…particularly when witchcraft is involved," Charlie added. "Although I will never understand why. We only use our powers for good. And as you know, I used my human abilities to fight Grandmama. I didn't twitch my nose or anything."

The dowager countess gave her an incredulous look. "Charlotte, you would not have that fighting ability without your special skills. I suggest we divest of these excuses and strategize."

To Charlie's way of thinking, knowledge was necessary to strategize. And she wanted—needed—to know what her parents knew…and she was desperate to know what the earl had seen, and Mr. Bronson, for that matter. That would make it easier. Grandmama also had a looking glass and could see things, just as Mama did, and she desperately wanted to ask to use it. Charlie had to bite her tongue to keep from asking her. While her own powers were impressive, they were practical. Aside from her ability to communicate telepathically, which many of them shared, Charlie could blink and make things move, start a fire, create a gust of wind—that sort of thing, but there were skills she needed to practice having better control. She didn't have a tool like a looking glass that acted as a window into another place or time. It would have to be her grandmother's idea to look, and Charlie had already asked too much of her.

As she deliberated, a knock sounded on the door of the parlor. Jumping up, she ran to open it. "Harrison, is there any word about the earl?"

"Lady Charlotte," Harrison said, stepping into the room. "Lady Penrose," he said, turning to address the dowager. "Doctor Thakur informed me he plans to stop by and speak to you when he finishes tending to the patient."

"We will await the doctor in here, Harrison," the dowager said, giving Charlie a meaningful look.

"Yes, my lady," the butler said, giving a quick bow before leaving and closing the door behind him.

"Thakur's one of the few doctors around here that doesn't believe in leaches and bleeding for every ailment." The dowager sighed. "We were lucky to get him, and so quickly."

"Yes, lucky indeed, Grandmama." Charlie had begun to pace, so agitated she was.

"Sit down, my dear girl, and be patient. Some things in life do not move as fast as you would like."

Charlie nodded and sat back down, but her thoughts were swirling in her mind as she worried about the fate of the earl and what bringing him into their home could mean.