Lady Tamsyn and the Pixie's Curse by Deb Marlowe

Author:Deb Marlowe [Marlowe, Deb]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Deb Marlowe
Published: 2017-08-13T18:00:00+00:00

“Tamsyn, there you are.” Her father approached as she entered the parlor, stopping her before she could go further. “I’m glad you are here. Marjorie is still in the village, drat the girl. I want you to meet a new arrival to the castle, a man here to consult with Hunt about a matter in the will.” He leaned in close. “There is no title, but quite a sizeable fortune, and he cuts a dash in Town—received by all, even the highest sticklers.” He nodded sagely. “This could be quite a useful connection for you girls, next Season.” Turning, he urged her on. “If not something more.”

Tamsyn gave a little laugh. “Fine, Father, I hear you.” The message could not be clearer—but neither could the image of Gryff fixed firmly in her head.

Following him to where her family had grouped before the fire, she craned her neck to see.

“Ah, here you are, Tamsyn dear.” Her mother turned, all smiles. Her movement opened a gap, so that Tamsyn could see at last the man who had them all in a tizzy.

She stilled, utterly unable to move.

“May I present to you my eldest daughter, Lady Tamsyn?” Her mother urged her forward.

She couldn’t make herself bend, curtsy, smile, speak a greeting—any or all of the things that she knew she must do. She could only stare.

Her father beamed, her sisters simpered. But Tamsyn was caught by the sight of the man before her—his form old and stooped. His clothes were rich, but the brightness of his linen could not hide the age spots or the stray hairs that bunched in places everywhere but his head. The smoothness of his superfine coat could not disguise his wrinkled skin or emaciated form.

Her mother elbowed her. “Tamsyn, meet Mr. Rowancourt.”

“Oh. I—uh, do excuse me,” she stammered. “How nice to meet you.”

Her brain was spinning and her heart pounded. Rowancourt? Wasn’t that the name Gryff had mentioned, in his story of the stranger who wanted the parcel of his father’s land? Where the pixies were supposed to dwell?

“And a pleasure to meet you, my lady.” The man sent her father a charged look. “Every daughter you present to me is more beautiful than the last.”

It was a pretty compliment to the girls, but Tamsyn sensed it was her father that the man was interested in. She looked wildly from him to her family, but they all seemed thrilled with the visitor. What did they see, when they looked at him?

“Truly, this one is special,” Rowancourt continued. “You must feel right at home here in the wilds. You have the touch of mist and magic on your brow.”

Her sisters tittered.

Tamsyn wondered just what he saw when he looked at her?

“Mr. Rowancourt was telling us the best places to keep our horses in London, Tamsyn. We told him what a grand rider you are.”

“I suspect beauty and talent run together in all of your family,” he said smoothly.

Tamsyn met the stranger’s gaze directly. His eyes were the only part of him that didn’t look on the verge of collapse.

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