Lord of Illusions by Boucher Rita

Author:Boucher, Rita
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books
Published: 2021-03-29T16:00:00+00:00

Damien sprinted across Sir Hector’s lawn, Angel loping along at his side. Although his walk to Southwood Manor had been accomplished at a deliberately leisurely pace, the dash would achieve the effect of a hasty run. While Tante Reina was entirely confident in the continuity of the baronet’s good will, Damien was less than sanguine. Any promises made by Outsiders to gypsies were usually contingent upon whim and since Sir Hector was a known traitor, his ability to honor his bonds was already in doubt.

At this juncture, the last thing that was needed was for Sir Hector to chase the lot of them off his property with a kick for a “fare thee well.” Damien had little doubt that the child would recover as Tante Reina said. However, Damien thought it far better that the baronet find his child conscious and coherent. With any luck at all, Lucy would have had sufficient time to return to the waking state before her father appeared on the scene.

The terrace doors to the library were open. Briefly, Damien hesitated, wishing that he had Tante Reina’s promised charm to counteract the influence of The Black Grimoire. The cleansing bag of herbs had some small effect, but even as he reached the threshold, wisps of the book’s baneful presence were already hovering at the edge of the Damien’s mind. Unfortunately, the reality of present circumstance would not be changed by mere wishful thinking. Sir Hector was visible at his desk and there was nothing to be gained by further delay. Damien rapped upon the glass of the door, feigning an audible pant as Sir Hector waved him in.

“Take a good sniff about, Angel,” Damien quietly told the mastiff before stepping into the study.

“What brings you running neck or nothing, Oberon?” the baronet asked, rising in apprehension. He walked to the sideboard and poured a glass of brandy. “Tell me what is wrong, man and then take a drink, for from your face, I would guess that you might need it.”

“Your daughter has been injured.” Damien hastened to reassurance him. “Just a gash upon the knee, that is all and bound up quickly.”

“Lucy!” Sir Hector’s florid face blanched. “Where is she? I must go to her at once!”

“Mrs. Penham is with her, Sir Hector,” Damien said, keeping his tones soothing. “We took her to the encampment, since that was nearest.”

“Is the old woman they call ‘Tante Reina’ still dispensing her nostrums?” the baronet asked.

Damien nodded cautiously. “Aye,” he said, and took a sip from his drink.

Sir Hector relaxed visibly. “I could not want for a better physician. Nonetheless, I will go right away. But first, I must tend to these.” He gestured toward the desk and hurried round it to gather up a pile of papers.

There was no need for Damien to see the seals upon the documents to determine their origin; a mound of dispatches from Whitehall. Wellington had planned to increase the amount of information being sent to the baronet. The more that Sir Hector received, the more likely that he could be caught in the act of passing the papers on.

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