Lady Mary's Muddle (Seven Wishes Book 4) Read online

  Chapter Three.

  The library in the rented house on Townsend Road was neither grand nor large, rather it was cozy with room for only two comfortable large reading chairs upholstered in patterned green damask. A sizeable window provided the room with plenty of light even on the most overcast of London days, and a small fireplace warmed the entire room with ease, adding to its coziness.

  Mary threw herself into a chair, unable today to derive the usual level of comfort from the charming room. Usually, Mary’s cool intellect was her ally. But not today. Today, she could think of nothing except that Papa had given his blessing to Mr. Penny and was disinclined to change his mind and that, as a result, her life was over.

  The morning had started off so auspiciously. Three Valentines had rested at her place at the table. Louisa also had three and Elizabeth four. Her brother John received only one, from his proper fiancé, Miss DeWright.

  The young ladies had torn into their treasures. Mary’s lip had curled just a little as she read Mr. Penny’s declaration, apparently written in his own scratchy, slightly illegible hand. Sir Percy, however, had hired a calligrapher to write his – the script was flawless, as was the verse that promised a lifetime of faithfulness and fidelity.

  The third one was, of course, from Mama. She always sent one to each of her daughters, to ensure they did not miss out. Mama was prone to the vapors and megrims and all kinds of mysterious ailments that could lay her low at a moment’s notice, but in the care and affection of her children, Lady Pascoe could not be faulted. Mary and the others loved her all the more for the gesture, quietly relieved that none of them had yet suffered the humiliation of only receiving a single Valentine.

  This year, with the dashing Sir Percy in pursuit, Mary expected her Valentine’s Day to be filled with romantic thoughts and beloved words pressed against her heaving bosom, certainly not the dismaying prospect of being betrothed to another and losing Sir Percy forever.

  She had favored his suit secretly, even as she remained quiet and well-mannered. Sir Percival had never done more than kiss her gloved hand and press it a little harder than was seemly. She had never done more than gaze at him longer and with more intent than perhaps a young lady should. But it was he who warmed her womanly heart. She had hoped her Valentine, carefully chosen and with a verse that, while it was all that was proper, left no question as to her preference, would bring him up to the mark.

  Instead, she had only brought misery upon herself.

  “What am I to do?” she murmured, staring into the little fire.

  “You seem to be in need of a miracle.”

  Mary blinked. In the other library chair sat a beautiful, smiling, raven haired woman in a lovely soft pink round gown, a patterned shawl tossed carelessly around her shoulders. It was a surprise. A moment earlier, Mary was certain the woman had not been there.

  “Who… who?” Mary’s eyes rounded and grasped the arms of her chair until her fingers turned white. She felt unable to form even a single sentence.

  “I am Fenella, your fairy godmother.”

  Mary allowed the woman’s words to sink in for a moment, and then nodded thoughtfully. She had read of such creatures, only she had always pictured them as much older and wiser-looking, and perhaps a little more grey-haired than the stunning creature seated across from her.

  “I am afraid you are a little too late for me. It appears my fate is sealed. However, if you wish, I am certain either of my sisters would be pleased to receive the application of your talents.”

  Fenella’s brows drew together and in the depths of her black eyes, Mary thought she saw ruby flames appear, although it could just have easily been the reflection of the fire which, to Mary’s thoughts, was suddenly a little inadequate to warm the room.

  “That is not the way this works,” Fenella said crisply, and Mary noted her northern country lilt.

  “Are your people from Ireland?”

  This time, Mary was certain she saw coals glowing in Fenella’s eyes.

  “No, I am not from Ireland.”

  “Really?” Mary was surprised. “For your accent sounds very Irish indeed.”

  “I’m not from your world.”

  Mary clicked her fingers. “Of course,” she said with a light smile. “How obtuse of me.”

  Fenella seemed perturbed. “Aren’t you going to ask me who I really am? Or if I am real? Or if this is a joke? Or what is wrong with my teeth?”

  “Why? Is there something wrong with your teeth?”

  “There is nothing wrong with my teeth,” she replied with asperity.

  “Then why did you even say that?”

  The lady scratched the side of her face. “You humans always question me. Every time I introduce myself.”

  “I shall not,” replied Mary, “for I am not so self-absorbed as to think I understand all the vagaries of this world and the next.”

  “That’s a refreshing change.” Fenella settled down in her chair. “Now, tell me what has gone wrong.”

  “It would appear that I have misdirected two Valentines that I sent, with the result that the gentleman I wish to marry no longer wishes to speak to me, and the one I did not want to marry has come and gained my father’s blessing for our union.”

  “Oh, dear, that shall never do.”

  “Do you think it possible that the situation is redeemable?” Mary’s eyes shone suddenly, before falling into shadow again. “I truly do not wish to spend my life with Mr. Penny. He is intemperate and changeable. I fear his character is sadly lacking.”

  Fenella nodded, her fingers bouncing against her lip. “It must be managed very gently, to keep your reputation intact and so as not to hurt the sensibilities of the gentleman. “

  “It would be no surprise to find Mr. Penny had no sensibilities,” murmured Mary a little acerbically, and Fenella’s eyebrows rose.

  “Do you have that low an estimation of him?”

  Mary flushed at being caught offering an unladylike opinion. “Of course, what I think is of little consequence,” she started, but Fenella waved an impatient hand.

  “None of your churlishness,” she snapped. “What is Mr. Penny like?”

  Mary leaned forward in her chair. “He is a bully and a braggart.”

  “So, definitely not someone you would wish to marry.”

  “Definitely not.”

  “And you have another preference? The man who you sent the bad Valentine?”

  Mary nodded, feeling the gentle smile cross her face. “Yes. Sir Percival Pound. A true gentleman.” A shadow crossed her features. “The worst part of this entire mess is that Sir Percy thinks I do not care for him. My vinegar Valentine was very… adamant.” She looked up into Fenella’s still flaming eyes. “How do you think you would feel to lose the one person you care for most in the world?”

  Fenella stood, and for some reason Mary felt compelled to stand too. “Let me go back and come up with a plan. And fear not. You shall have your happily ever after, or my name is not Fenella O’Flaherty.”

  “Is that your name? It is very poetic.”

  But Fenella had already disappeared, leaving Mary blinking owlishly and with the strangest feeling that she had imagined the entire conversation. She sat back down, perturbed.

  What am I supposed to do now?

  Chapter Four.

  Lachlan sat lost in thought. The transparencies and reports were piling up on his desk, yet he was not able to quiet his mind enough to pay attention to them since he had been informed, by Eldryth herself no less, that she would be taking over the mentorship of Fenella.

  He wondered how Fenella had taken the news. Badly, he thought with a wry smile.

  But there was one light that came from this dark tunnel; now that he wasn’t Fenella’s mentor, they could have a relationship. That circumstance alone was enough to send a bolt of desire through him.

  Fenella made the blood in his veins boil, his featherlight wings quiver. His white light mellowed to yellow in her presence, except
, of course, when she threw them both into precarious situations, which she did more often than was comfortable. At those times, his internal light burned white blue. Lachlan complained, of course, but he had never had such exciting and interesting times as he did with the feckless Fenella.

  Lachlan sighed. At ninety-two years old, he should have at least a handle on the various workings of the heart. But he had never really been interested in anyone until Fenella. The tall, beautiful fae who insisted that she could be a fairy godmother despite her dark features and even darker magic.

  The one who made it thunderstorm inside the gymnasium when asked to display her control of water magic.

  The one who made him act like a foolish, dumbstruck ass.

  He smiled wryly to himself, then picked up a report and looked at it unseeingly. Would Fenella avoid him now that she had no reason to see him every day? She had been very angry with him when he had reported the results of her latest happily ever after to the governors. He had agonized over whether he would, not wanting to bring Fenella to their attention yet again. But in the end, his sense of what was right forced him to follow the rules and report her. Again.

  With a long exhale and a scrub of his hand through his bright blonde hair, he wondered how long it would take her this time to overcome her displeasure.

  At the same time as he sighed heavily and tried to concentrate again on his paperwork, Fenella swept into his office on her dragonfly wings, landed lightly right beside him, and locked her lips to his.

  Lachlan felt as if his entire body must have registered his surprise. His eyebrows flew up, the papers dropped out of his suddenly numb hands and, instead of kissing her back, his mouth fell open.

  But it didn’t take him long to recover his wits. Standing up without losing the pressure of her cherry lips, he wound his arms around her hips, drawing her against him. Her eyes were open and on fire where they bored into his, the smoky woodlands scent of her a heady intoxication. Lachlan could not pull her close enough, could not help deepening the kiss and exploring the seam of her lips, then her warm welcoming mouth with its wicked, twisting tongue. His heart bounded, thumping against the walls of his chest and his breath shortened. The tiny vibrations of her wings against the back of his hand were flutteringly erotic, and he saw, as well as felt, his own yellow-white energy strengthening.

  Vaguely, he registered that she must have gotten over her annoyance with him, and he smiled through their kiss. She noticed the amusement creeping into his heated eyes and pulled back a little, a question in her expression.

  But Lachlan was very far from finished. He laced fingers into her black hair and pulled her back against him with the other arm. With a happy mumble, she closed her eyes and molded herself against Lachlan’s hard planes and he, again, lost himself in her scent and taste.

  Sometime later, lips bruised, and body inflamed, he unpeeled himself from beside her. He was breathless and charged, not sure what was supposed to happen next. He did not tear his gaze from Fenella’s face, but held her at arm’s length and waited for her to speak.

  After licking her lips unconsciously (which very nearly sent Lachlan back to lavish them again), she said, “I missed you.”

  Lachlan barked a laugh, the understatement of her words tickling his sense of humor. Crossing his arms over his chest, he drawled, “Really?”

  She flushed and lowered her lashes, a small smile playing across her lips. “I suppose that was fairly obvious, wasn’t it?”

  “Fairly obvious,” Lachlan agreed with a cheerful nod.

  She glanced up at him then dropped her eyes again. “They gave me a new mentor.”

  Lachlan nodded. “I know.”

  At this, she looked up at him, surprised. “And you’re not upset?”

  A half-smile crossed his face as he pulled her in tight against him again and shrugged. “It means we can be together.”

  She pulled herself out of his arms and sat down. “But what about my soul magic? What am I going to do about that?”

  Lachlan paused. Fenella’s blackdark had always been a point of contention between them. He chose his words carefully.

  “Maybe you could think about putting it aside?” Her sharp glance was as eloquent as any words, and he continued quickly before she could reply. “I know you think your soul magic healing is as important as your fairy godmothering. You know I don’t agree with that, but you are entitled to believe what you want. I’d just hate to see you thrown out of the corps over something that you could suppress if you wanted to.”

  “But I don’t want to.”

  She sat back into her chair, nodding slightly and worrying her lower lip. “I suppose I’d just like to know if something happens that you’ll have my back.”

  Lachlan very nearly replied with a hot, “Of course I would,” but he paused. He would do many things for Fenella; indeed, he had already done so. Things that had teetered on the edge of proper fae behavior, and even things that were, frankly, illegal. He still kept the secret of her blackdark even though reporting those with soul magic was one of the rules of fae society.

  But if she broke the First Imperative again, would he support her? Could he, in all conscience, applaud her choices and agree that they were the right ones?

  Carefully, he said, “I would be a support to you, Fen, but I couldn’t say for certain that I would stand with you against the Academy.”

  Fenella seemed to shrivel in her chair even as she nodded and looked down. “I didn’t think you would,” she said sadly. “You have a very strict moral code.” She caught his eyes again. “It is one of the things I love about you.”

  Lachlan blinked rapidly. “You love about me?” he repeated back to her.

  “Yes.” She said the word firmly, holding his gaze.

  For a long moment, Lachlan was very quiet. Then he silently slipped out of his chair and around the desk to Fenella, where he knelt before her and took her hands.

  “Do you truly love me?” he asked, urgency coloring his words.

  “Of course I do,” Fenella replied simply.

  Lachlan rocked back on his heels, his mind whirring. He felt as if his chest would not contain his heart, which threatened to burst out and flow over in a fountain of crystal-hued rainbows.

  “I love you too.”

  “I know.”

  She pulled him to his feet and stood before him, placing a hand on his face. “I am probably the worst matched mate in the world for you, Lachlan, but by some strange miracle of the gods, you love me.”

  He started to speak but she placed a finger over his lips. “Right now, that is enough for me. That you love me.” She replaced her finger with the softest brush of her lips.

  “But what about…” Lachlan started, but she shushed him again. “Leave it for another time.” She smiled a little wryly. “There will be some rough patches, Lachlan. It’s inevitable, really, considering who we both are. But right now? Just to know you love me is enough.”

  She kissed him again, and Lachlan felt all her warmth and fervor poured into it. He was powerless against the dark fae, she held all of his heart and most of his reason.

  And so, he let his worries go, forgot about their differences, and fell into the fantasy that was loving Fenella.

  Chapter Five.

  Fenella had confided in Lachlan that being mentored by Eldryth felt like being a butterfly under a looking glass, and he had nodded thoughtfully.

  “It may be difficult to keep your blackdark under wraps,” he warned. “She’s very observant. And she hasn’t personally mentored another fairy godmother in centuries.”

  Fenella had replied with a shaky exhale, “Just my luck that she decided to take a personal interest in me.”

  The worry had her stumbling over all her words when she went before Eldryth to explain her plan to bring the Lady Mary her happily ever after. Eldryth had approved the plan, however with a caution that Fenella relied a little too much on subterfuge and intrigue and that she was not to directly use her magic
on anyone apart from her fairy godchild.

  Irritation shivered down Fenella’s spine as she stood in the darkened doorway of one of the more fashionable gaming hells in London. It was not as if she had never done this before. Eldryth didn’t need to caution her like a wet behind the ears, just out of the schoolroom fairy godmother recruit. She breathed in to calm and focus herself and regretted it as she did.

  The air was blue, and Fenella could barely catch her breath in the fetid, smoky room. Her stupidly high cravat held her head at an unnatural angle and the boots she wore made her feel as if she was walking with enormous oak trees strapped to her feet.

  She was in disguise as a young man about town and wished herself anywhere else but there. Without women to keep their behavior under control, human men were crass, disgusting, and boorish. The noise was thicker than the cigar smoke and thundered through Fenella’s head. She did not know how so relatively few people could make so much sound.

  It was all she could do to keep her eyes from firing and her protective ring of smoke from appearing.

  Instead, she leaned nonchalantly against a table, untouched glass of brandy in one hand, lit cigarillo in the other, to all onlookers seeming an innocuous, well-dressed lad out for a night on the town.

  In fact, she waited for Mr. Penny.

  Something odd caught her eye in the periphery of her vision, and she turned slightly, to watch Sir Percival Pound enter the room. His aura, tinged as it was with green and pink, proved without a doubt that he was the happily ever after that Mary sought. Fenella hoped that, after tonight, she might have removed at least one impediment from her godchild’s situation.

  There was a roar of laughter from the doorway, and in strode Mr. Andrew Penny with another man. Tall and disdainful in his bearing, he seemed to have a presence that commanded the attention of the other patrons of the establishment, most of whom regarded him with wary expressions, or open dislike. Instantly she could see that his aura was dark and stormy with harsh red strokes slashing through it. It was exactly as Mary had said, Mr. Penny, despite his good looks and reluctant acceptance in society, wore all the colors of a man of evil temper and unpleasant disposition.