“Edward!” Miss Cordelia warned again, and Damon half expected her to take Edward by the ear and march him home, though he hoped she wouldn’t just yet because Damon wanted to know what the lad knew.
“There was no one about when we arrived and had there been, there was nothing to be seen. You are a silly boy, Edward Vail.”
At least Ianthe was believable in her denial, which gave Damon some comfort. He’d been afraid that if ever confronted either her face or tone would give her away, but she dismissed Edward’s comments convincingly.
Edward then went on to quietly describe how the air changed, breeze stopped, and everything went silent, and how he convinced his sister to climb the tree.
“That is enough, Edward,” Miss Cordelia warned again.
“I didn’t think she would. Cordelia never does anything that is fun, which is why she’d make an excellent governess. She believes in rules and punishes misbehavior.”
Miss Cordelia pursed her lips again and if she could kill by a glare, Edward would be dead.
“Did you really climb a tree?” Damon found himself asking.
“I am not proud of my actions,” she answered stiffly.
Damon wanted to laugh at her confession, but he was also alarmed by what Edward and Miss Cordelia may have witnessed.
Damon closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose while he listened as Edward described the road appearing, the bramble parting and the nightshade growing in a way that the most gifted storytellers would envy. Thankfully there was nobody else in earshot or Damon would have brought the conversation to an abrupt end.
Bloody hell! Edward had seen everything, as had Miss Cordelia who was now looking away with rose stained cheeks.
“You can deny being a witch all you want but I saw you try to move the bramble. Only leaves and berries fell.”
Ianthe’s face turned red. “I guess I’m not a witch.” She shrugged.
“Maybe not a good one yet,” Edward said.
His niece had done well with denying she was a witch, but neither Edward nor likely Miss Cordelia was fooled, especially since they’d witnessed the magic.
Damon just wasn’t certain what he would do about it. Was there a spell that his mother could cast to remove their memories?
Then he remembered that there was, but it was a forbidden practice. He’d heard her and his aunt discussing it once and how the witch had been punished for doing that very thing.
Perhaps his mother would change her mind once she learned what had happened.
Mortification washed over Cordelia.First, because of Edward’s conduct. He behaved horribly and needed to be taken to task. Then, when he revealed to Lord Bentford that she’d climbed a tree to spy on them, she wished a hole would open in the ground and swallow her.
He must think she and Edward were the most undignified, irresponsible, and disrespectful neighbors anyone could have. He’d likely tell his sister, Lady Larisa that she could no longer be friends with Adriana, and it would be her and Edward’s fault.
“That is enough, Edward,” Cordelia finally said. “You’ve said more than you should.”
“Nobody is around to hear me.”
“It doesn’t matter. There are rules for a reason, and we are not far from the inn.” Witches may be common in Bocka Morrow, but it was silent knowledge and only discussed quietly, in privacy, and never near strangers. It didn’t matter that Bentford and his niece knew of witchcraft, they were still new to the area and Edward had just broken a vow every single resident in Bocka Morrow lived by.
She turned to Bentford. “I apologize for my brother. Further, I apologize for spying on you and your family.”
He simply nodded but said nothing further. Worse, the humor that had been in his brown eyes earlier was gone.
“Ianthe, you and I need to return to Nightshade Manor.” Bentford’s tone held no warmth and Cordelia was certain that her brother had just destroyed any opportunity for her to further her acquaintance with Lord Bentford. Not that he’d probably wished to do so before, but he would certainly avoid her now.
Disappointment settled around Cordelia, though there was no reason for it. She didn’t even know Lord Bentford, and they’d barely had a conversation. Further, she couldn’t begin to guess what he must think of her, and perhaps she shouldn’t ponder on it too much, or she’d likely suffer more embarrassment than when Bentford learned that she’d climbed a tree to spy on his family.
“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Bentford,” she finally offered.
“And yours.” He inclined his head then turned to his niece. “Come along and you can explain why you left without telling anyone.”
