The “lass” narrowed her eyes and shot her fiancé a stern look. “Don’t you suddenly become a bossy Irishman. We discussed this in the carriage, Finn. And you yourself acknowledged the logic of it…”
“I did,” he nodded. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. And we don’t even know for sure it will work.”
Hecate’s chin rose. “It will work. I know it. So that’s that.”
*~~*~~*
Overjoyed to see Letitia and James again, Hecate did her best to hug them both at once, tears in her eyes as she realised how precious her family was.
They’d come to her rescue when she was close to death and here they were, once again gathering at her side. This time, she had Finn beside her, and as they sat around the dinner table that night, she couldn’t help being proud to be a Ridlington.
The realisation hit her like a mental brick.
Never before had she looked at her family in quite that fashion. She’d always felt a bit of an outsider, and her gifts had fostered that emotion. Although they’d been kind, patient and affectionate in their own way, she knew she was a puzzle to them, no matter how much they accepted her strange talents.
Was it because she had found a love of her own? Had that changed her perspective on life, family and her mystical abilities?
It was true that she used them less, now, since being with Finn produced a very satisfactory magic of its own. And in addition, she’d laid her cane aside. Perhaps Finn’s loving was helping her body heal as well. Whatever the reason, she was walking unaided. Still cautious, she wasn’t about to leap on a horse, or attempt a rousing waltz around the Mowbray House ballroom, but she was nevertheless able to move much better than over the last year or so.
“Will you be requiring anything else, sir? Tea and brandy await you in the parlour.” The impressive butler bowed formally to Max.
“I don’t think so. Thank you, Deery.”
Hecate bit her lip against a grin as the man made his stately way from the room. Then finally, she could hold it no longer. “Dearie? Isn’t that a somewhat overly affectionate way to address your butler?”
Letitia let out a sharp bark of laughter, and James’s gurgle was right on top of it.
Max merely smiled. “It’s his real name. I find it quite enchanting myself, and I tell him so from time to time, which annoys him enormously. One can’t ever get cross with him, can one?”
Kitty pushed her chair back and rose. “Right. Time to adjourn. No brandy and cigars for the gentlemen. We will all indulge ourselves together. I want to hear Finn’s tale.”
“Me too,” added James. “I confess myself very curious about all this, so please don’t keep us on tenterhooks any longer?
Within fifteen minutes, they were all disposed comfortably in the parlour, the fire burning and the flames reflecting prettily off the cut glass decanter.
Sadly, the teapot wasn’t getting much use, since everyone had elected to go straight to the brandy.
“Right then. Where do we start?” Letitia snuggled into the corner of the couch and sipped her liquor.
“At the beginning,” said Hecate. “Finn? If you would…”
He put his glass down on the table, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. “It began on June the eighteenth, last year. Far away from here, in a battle we’ll always know simply as Waterloo…”
He spoke quietly, his words simple but fluent, painting a vivid picture of what it had been like to fight that day, to be part of the battle lines, to watch men cut down beside him, in front of him…
Those gathered around sat spellbound, neither moving nor speaking until he had finished his tale.
Waiting for a few moments, Hecate picked up the story, relating how DeWitt had cleverly managed to assume the Faversill title, even though the Marchville family had taken him to court.
Finally, James leaned back with a disgusted snort. “I would wager the judge who ruled on that case was in Faversill’s pocket,” he said.
“I wouldn’t take your bet,” nodded Max. “A gross miscarriage of justice.”
“Well, personally, I think hanging, drawing and quartering is too good for that man. He’s…he’s…ahhh, words escape me,” Letitia stormed.
“Good thing you’re not engaged in anything to do with ‘em then, sweetheart. Words, that is,” remarked James with a grin.
His wife shot him what Hecate could only describe as a withering look. She couldn’t resist smiling at the two of them. “I agree, Letitia, but sadly the Crown frowns on that sort of thing these days. We’d have to go back to the Tudors, I think.” She sighed. “I have some odd skills, but when it comes to travelling through time…well that’s beyond even my capabilities.”
