Aura of Magic by Patricia Rice

Author:Patricia Rice [Rice, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book View Cafe

Bridey had her bags packed and a note to the Duke of Sommersville ready to be sealed when Pascoe finally put in an appearance. He’d found time to shave and don freshly laundered linen. He looked a proper diplomat as he handed over the folded missive he wished her to send to the duke.

“Carstairs has agreed to frank this, and his lady-love has persuaded him that an exorcism might be beneficial. We need you to help with the affair,” Pascoe said with the confidence of one accustomed to expecting people to jump at insane orders.

He could look as tempting as Adonis and command all he wished. The only thing likely to persuade her to stay was another night in his bed. But Pascoe had donned his officious diplomatic behavior like a suit of armor. She waited for him to stick the blamed monocle in his eye to intimidate her into agreeing.

She glared at his act. “Spectacle, you mean. I have no desire to participate in whatever charade you’ve dreamed up, because I know full well you don’t believe in spirits. And I can’t believe the vicar would agree to an exorcism! That’s pure twaddle.”

She took the note he offered, and without reading it, enclosed it with her own, folding the paper and dripping sealing wax on it. She pressed it with the ring George had given her. Despite all appearances to the contrary, she was still a countess and entitled to the crest.

“You are absolutely no fun at all,” he complained. “I might as well be at home, arguing with my much-too-logical nephews. Did you never play games as a child? Was it all study and seriousness?”

She stared at him in disbelief. “An exorcism is fun?” But his needling had touched a sore point. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d played just for fun—well, except for her night with Pascoe, and that was more about lust than lighthearted nonsense.

“If you don’t take yourself too seriously, it will be,” he said, suddenly grinning, making her pulse race in ways it shouldn’t. “I promise. And we don’t need the vicar. We have you.”

“You don’t have me,” she said in irritation. “I’d like to return to Wystan in daylight.”

His smile slipped away, and he poured all the power of those deep blue, heavily-lashed eyes on her. “I would appreciate your help, please. The duke is unlikely to arrive for several days. Theo knows how to send a message if they need you at Wystan. The kingdom and I need you more than they do.”

The man was too damned compelling. Bridey fought an internal struggle that she dare not let him see or the wretched man would twist it to his own devices. His twins called to her far more than the idiot earl and mechanical ghosts. But they were not hers to care for any more than Carstairs. She belonged in neither place.

With a sigh, she hesitated. “What is your plan and its purpose?”

“The banshee has consented to quit wailing if you’ll perform the exorcism.

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