Miss Cheswick's Charm (Seven Wishes Book 2) Read online

  Miss Cheswick’s Charm

  By Bree Verity

  Copyright

  Dedication

  About Bree Verity

  Other Books by Bree Verity

  Chapter One.

  Chapter Two.

  Chapter Three.

  Chapter Four.

  Chapter Five.

  Chapter Six.

  Chapter Seven.

  Chapter Eight.

  Chapter Nine.

  Chapter Ten.

  Chapter Eleven.

  Chapter Twelve.

  Chapter Thirteen.

  Chapter Fourteen.

  Chapter Fifteen.

  Chapter Sixteen.

  Chapter Seventeen.

  Chapter Eighteen.

  Chapter Nineteen.

  Chapter Twenty.

  Chapter Twenty-One.

  Chapter Twenty-Two.

  Chapter Twenty-Three.

  Chapter Twenty-Four.

  Chapter Twenty-Five.

  Chapter Twenty-Six.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven.

  One Last Thing…

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Bardic Books (Briony Vreedenburgh)

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-6481517-9-1

  E-book format

  Published by: Bardic Books, 1/1 Nunyah Avenue, Park Holme, SA, 5043

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

  Dedication

  To anyone who has ever thought circumstances being what they are, there is no hope left.

  There is always hope.

  Trust in yourself.

  .

  About Bree Verity

  Bree grew up on a diet of old movies, tea, crumpets and family values, musicals, dancing and singing. It’s no wonder she writes books – it’s a wonder she ever thought she might do anything else!

  Bree’s muses include her incredibly long-suffering partner (who has to put up with her talking through highly unlikely and probably incredibly boring strands of storyline), and two rescue dogs (who are amazed by her talent. No seriously. You can see it in their eyes.)

  She is Australian born and bred but prefers the city to the rurals. Shopping and coffee instead of snakes and kangaroos, please.

  Bree absolutely adores hearing from her readers, and can be contacted via her website, breeverity.com

  Other Books by Bree Verity

  Seven Wishes series:

  Miss Fenella’s Fault

  Miss Diana’s Disguise

  Revolution and Regency series:

  The Hidden Duchess

  The Misguided Mademoiselle

  The Ruined Lady

  The Scandalous Widow

  Perth Girls series

  Sax in the Park

  For Business and Pleasure

  Troubled by the Texan

  Under the Spotlight

  Bouquet of Love – an Anthology by Serenity Press

  The Pankstone Chronicles – Four Short Regency Stories.

  Chapter One.

  At the rear of the church Fenella sat scowling at the couple at the altar.

  Had anyone turned around and stared long enough, they would have seen her with her mentor, Lachlan seated beside her, but since the focus of the entire congregation was the wedding being performed, the two were all but invisible. However, if someone did stare long enough, their attention would have been arrested by the differences between the two fae. Lachlan was blond haired and blue-eyed, radiating happiness and light. His featherlight wings, white and mostly transparent, fanned slowly behind him. Fenella, with her jet-black hair, deathly pale skin and somber bearing, seemed to somehow dim the light around her. Her wings were multicolored, like a dragonfly, but just as translucent as Lachlan’s. They were both stunningly beautiful in their own way, as were all fae - Lachlan, classically handsome with Fenella’s more of a devastating, predatory beauty. They both wore pink - Fenella a neat, dusky morning dress, Lachlan in pale pink tails with a pink vest and a pink carnation in his lapel. His pale top hat also featured a pink band and his cane bore a pink ribbon.

  Every time Fenella glanced over at him, she couldn’t help but think how ridiculous he looked. So, she kept her eyes on the wedding.

  “I suppose that’s it then?” Her low voice held the lilt of an Irish brogue, and deep disappointment. The couple at the altar exchanged the chaste kiss that would seal their union and Fenella slumped down in her pew. “How long has it been since someone has failed to provide a happily ever after, Lachlan? I’ll be famous.” The sarcasm was heavy in her voice.

  “More like infamous,” Lachlan joked, a twinkle in his eye and a similar lilt in his voice. “But never fear, my dear, all is not yet lost. I am here to save the day.” From somewhere behind him Lachlan produced a crossbow-like contraption. It seemed to be made from solidified air, with two sharp arrows at the ready.

  “Ugh.” Fenella grimaced and waved her hand in front of her face, wrinkling her nose. “That thing stinks of love. What is it?”

  “Just a little something that I borrowed from Cupid.” Lachlan aimed the crossbow carefully. “Watch this.” He pressed the release, and the two arrows went careening toward the newly wedded couple. The contraption disappeared out of Lachlan’s hands.

  Unfortunately, the new Mrs. Longshore and her erstwhile husband chose exactly that moment to turn away from each other and the first arrow landed with a light twang in the breast of the clergyman, who staggered backward, a hand on his heart and a surprised look on his face. The arrow vanished.

  “That could be awkward.” Lachlan leaned sideways toward Fenella. “Do Church of England clergy take a vow of celibacy?”

  “I don’t know.” Fenella watched as the second arrow, its original target lost, wandered aimlessly for a moment before smacking into the breast of the middle-aged organist. She too grasped at her chest and then her surprise turned to bliss when her gaze fell upon the clergyman.

  “I hope she isn’t already married,” Fenella said in an aside to Lachlan. He scratched his face, a worried expression crossing his features.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Taking Fenella’s hand, they winked out of view, only to reappear a moment later beside the decorated open carriage that would take Theodore and Caroline Longshore to their wedding breakfast. The couple appeared in the doorway of the church, and Lachlan, after examining them for a moment, said in some surprise, “I don’t know what it is you’re worrying about.”

  “What?”

  “Can’t you see it?”

  “See what?”

  “The truth. In their auras.”

  Fenella stared at Caroline and Theodore for a moment then replied in a frustrated tone, “I can’t see anything. Only the dark parts. Which, I can tell you, are not auspicious at all. Stubbornness, temper, recalcitrance… it’s all there.”

  “Come on Fenella. You’re a quarter light fae you know. Try harder.”

  “I am trying harder,” she snapped back at Lachlan, “and I’m fairly certain that there isn’t a single light fae bone in my entire body.” She squinted irritatedly at the couple, trying to see wha
t it was Lachlan saw.

  He clicked his fingers. “I’ve got it,” he crowed, winking out for a moment, reappearing with a pair of garish pink-framed eyeglasses. “Put these on.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “No thank you.”

  He took a stern tone. “Put them on Fenella.”

  “I would rather walk barefoot over a pit of boiling glass.” She looked at the offending glasses with distaste. “They have to be the most hideous things I have ever seen.”

  “They’re rose colored glasses,” explained Lachlan patiently. “They should work to suppress your awareness of the dark parts of the auras and improve your awareness of the light.” He placed them on Fenella’s face, expertly avoiding her flailing arms as she tried to stop him doing so. “Stop being such a baby. It’s not as if anyone can see you.” With a shake of his head, he took her by the shoulders and turned her to face the happy couple. “Do you see it now?”

  Fenella stared for a moment, watching the couple as they ran through the crowd, crouching a little against the handfuls of rice thrown at them, and mounted the carriage. “I think I do,” she said slowly, twisting her head sideways. “A little green around the edge there, and a pink hue surrounding the both of them.” She turned to Lachlan and stared at him open-mouthed for several second straight, then hurriedly removed the glasses. “What does it mean?”

  Lachlan chuckled. “It means they could be perfect for each other. But they are both stubborn, very sure of their own opinions, and unwilling to forgive. Your job will be to make sure they appreciate each other’s good qualities before they have too much exposure to the bad.”

  Fenella looked relieved. “So, I can still bring about her happily ever after?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Wonderful.” She smiled widely; an expression returned by Lachlan. “I shall go and visit Caroline this very afternoon.”

  “Good.”

  “But Lachlan?” He turned to her, questioning. “Remind me never to look at you again through those rose-colored glasses. You are so sickly sweet you nearly made me return my breakfast.”

  And with that, they winked out of sight.

  Chapter Two.

  Bang!

  The noise and vibration of the heavy wooden door slamming shut gave Caroline a short-lived moment of satisfaction. Striding across the room, she sent a small wooden stool spinning with the flip of her hand.

  Her embroidered kid slippers were less satisfactory, making little noise as she kicked them off into the wall.

  She sat down with a huff in the chair beside the dressing table and it squeaked in protest, despite being covered in a deep cushion and luxurious sage green velvet.

  Good, Caroline thought savagely. I hope I break all the furniture in this room.

  Sir Theodore, Caroline’s new husband, had just informed her that she was to have no more involvement in the investment of her fortune. She pulled a diamond earbob from her lobe and flung it at the dresser.

  He had done it quietly and carefully, explaining his reasons along the way. He wanted his wife to take care of the inside matters, and he the outside. He didn’t think finance was a suitable occupation for a lady. Ha! What did he know?

  She tore the earbob from her other ear and was about to fling it as well.

  But she paused, looking at her savage expression in the glass, and discovering that even more heat resided in the depths of her own brown eyes.

  Sir Theodore had purchased her.

  She could almost forgive him the rest. Almost. But knowing that her uncle had sold her to Sir Theodore, knowing that they probably bartered over her, flinging offers backward and forward until they came to an agreeable amount - just how much did a woman cost these days? - brought all her fury to the fore.

  Her dark hair, caught back into an elaborate curled coiffure for her wedding, had fallen and wisps hung around her face. Her top lip was curled back in a snarl and the diamond necklace she had worn for her wedding twinkled back at her, mirroring the flashes in her eyes.

  She took a deep breath in and then slowly exhaled. It would not do to show such a face to her new husband.

  A single tear formed in the corner of her eye, and she angrily dashed it away. That was another thing Sir Theodore would never see of her. Tears meant weakness. And she would show him no weakness.

  “Caroline.”

  She flung herself out of the chair, spinning around to face where the voice had come from, fists at the ready. Caroline didn’t know how to fight. But her visitor didn’t know that.

  Then she let her fists fall in surprise. A pale, beautiful woman stood before her, with raven black hair and onyx eyes. She wore a dusky pink gown with a matching bonnet featuring a sizeable white ostrich feather. The woman beamed on Caroline, who blinked in astonishment. For a moment she thought she had seen fine, glossy dark wings beating the air behind the woman. But that was impossible.

  “Caroline Cheswick. Or should I say, Caroline Longshore. I’m here to assist you to achieve your very own happily ever after.”

  The woman’s words seemed to loosen Caroline’s tongue. “What are you doing in my chambers? How did you get in without anyone noticing? What do you mean, happily ever after?”

  Fenella laughed. “What a lot of questions! Let’s start at the beginning. I’m in your chambers because you need help. How did I get in without anyone noticing? Watch.”

  And between one breath and the next she vanished. Caroline’s mouth fell open, but before she could recover, the woman blinked back into sight.

  “Who are you?” Caroline said faintly. She knew her bed was somewhere to her rear, and she groped around behind herself for it, fearful that her shaking knees might give out before she located it. Finding the soft mattress, she sat stiffly on the edge, never taking her eyes off the woman.

  “I’m Fenella, your fairy godmother.” Fenella said the words as if having a fairy godmother was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Fairy godmother?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you just… appeared,” Caroline said, awe in her voice. “Out of thin air.”

  “Yes.” Fenella crossed her hands in front of her and continued to smile, although the expression seemed to waver a little.

  “But that’s impossible.”

  Crisply, Fenella replied, “It is quite obvious that it is not impossible, since I just did it.”

  “But… No, you’re all wrong.”

  Fenella lifted one eyebrow. “Wrong?”

  It felt as if the temperature instantly dropped in the room. Caroline shivered, certain that she saw tiny chips of ruby ignite in the depths of Fenella’s eyes.

  “I meant no offense; however, it was my understanding that fairies were light and bright and flittered to and fro.” Caroline made some fluttering movements with her hands, then returned her gaze to Fenella, who seemed unimpressed.

  “I am not light and bright?”

  “You certainly do not flitter to and fro.”

  Fenella frowned for a moment. “No, I suppose I do not. I am dark fae. Most fairy godmothers are light fae and are all that you expected them to be. Blonde haired and blue eyed to the very last one of them, and full of tinkles and sparkles enough to drive me insane.”

  “What does that mean, dark fae?” Despite her shaking knees, Caroline found her fear was dissipating in light of her fascination with this less than ordinary fairy.

  “Dark magic instead of light magic, mainly,” replied Fenella. “Reactive instead of proactive. Dark fae prefer to tear things down than build them up.”

  Caroline’s brows drew together. “It seems a little incongruous that you should be a fairy godmother then.”

  Fenella shook her head slowly. “It is a long story, and one I may tell you one day, if I have the time. But right now, we have to hurry up, so do be quiet and listen for a moment. I am here to ensure you achieve your happily ever after.”

  Caroline couldn’t help but laugh bitterly, which seemed to annoy Fene
lla. The red points in her eyes returned. The room seemed to grow even colder.

  “I do apologize,” started Caroline, but Fenella cut her off with a brush of her hand.

  “Despite what you think, your happily ever after is possible.”

  “Is that so?” Caroline’s incredulous brow rose. “For right at this moment, it seems a happily ever after is not in my grasp.”

  “What about your husband?”

  Caroline snorted, an inelegant sound that seemed to almost draw a smile from Fenella. The fairy godmother sat down beside her as Caroline replied.

  “My uncle insisted that I marry him.”

  “Why on earth would he do that?”

  Caroline gave a sad shrug. “I can only think that he needed the money, and that I was a saleable item.”

  One of Fenella’s eyebrows lifted in a furious stare and Caroline was struck by the cold again. She wondered just what would happen if you needled your dark fae fairy godmother a little too far. Somehow, she did not wish to find out. Thankfully, Fenella seemed to pull her ire back under control.

  “Despite the circumstances, I have it on good authority that you are perfect for each other,” Fenella said.

  “Circumstances themselves would suggest that we are anything but,” replied Caroline bitterly.

  Fenella stood up and paced the room, muttering to herself. Caro watched her in fascination. The combination of jet hair and the whitest of white skin made her appear almost deathlike. She was incongruous, dressed in pink. She should have been wearing blood red, or a dark shade of purple. She belonged in Mr. Walpole’s Castle of Otranto, or perhaps Mr. Southey’s vampire poem. Yet here she was, standing before Caroline. And strangely, Caroline felt better. There was a tiny spark of hope that her life was not going to be the dreary disaster that Sir Theodore had predicted.

  Finally, Fenella stopped in front of Caroline, decision on her pale face.

  “I have a gift for you.” Fenella held out one hand and waved the other over the top. In her palm a bright flame appeared, shooting upward, making Caroline gasp. The flame seemed to burn down to become a handful of smoke, swirling ominously in Fenella’s hand. She spoke a word that Caroline did not understand but that sent a shiver down her spine, and the smoke solidified into a stunning sapphire pendant on a long silver chain.