Margaret’s reaction was to flounce out of the room.
Harry gave his wife’s waist a reassuring squeeze and turned to the guests. “You can see I’ve had great experience with strong-willed women.”
The comment relieved the tension in the room, as he’d hoped it would. But he was conscious all the while through the meal that Margaret waited.
And wait she must ... because the Scots were not going anywhere quickly when there was celebrating to do. The afternoon was late before Harry could finally turn his attention to his sister.
“I shall let the two of you have a moment alone,” Portia said.
“No, I’d like for you to be there,” he answered.
She frowned, and he understood why. She’d already recognized that Margaret was going to blame her for this marriage, and to his thinking, that was all the more reason she must be there. Harry wanted Portia to hear him defend her. He did not want his wife to have any doubts as to where his allegiance lay.
He fetched Fenella’s book and entered the drawing room where Margaret had been sitting stiff and unyielding most of the day. She’d refused several of Monty’s offers of hospitality although she had accepted it for her drivers and her abigail. Margaret had wished to make her displeasure with Harry known, and she had.
“Are you in the mood to talk, sister?” he asked, directing Portia to a chair. He remained standing.
Margaret’s hard gaze flicked over Portia and dismissed her. “How could you, Harry? How could you give in to the curse?” She had taken off her coat to reveal a lovely dress of the whitest gauze muslin. Harry thought she had to be chilled wearing it in Scotland’s damp weather
“Because I fell in love,” he answered.
His sister practically shouted her frustration.She came to her feet. “You and I had a pact. It was to stop withus. Withourgeneration. You’ve broken my trust.”
Harry knew she was right. He also knew she would not understand. Someone who had never known the power of love could not comprehend the courage he had gained from it.
He offered Fenella’s book to her.
“What is this?” she asked, looking down at the leather-bound tome, its cover cracked with age.
“A book of spells that Fenella used. Portia found it in the house where she was living.”
Margaret moved toward the book as if it was the Holy Grail.
“Fenella wrote her name on the inside,” Harry said as she took it from him. “There is a spell to reclaim a lost love with the name ‘Charles’ written in the margin.”
“Can it help us break the curse?” Margaret asked.
Portia answered. “We don’t know, but Harry and I are aware thatwedo not have the power to do so.”
“The power?” Margaret echoed. At last she looked at Portia with something other than contempt. His wife was beingverypatient.
“We suspect we have taken this matter as far asit can go,” Harry said. “Portia and I sense we have discovered the root of Fenella’s curse. I believe she is on the run.”
“What makes you say so?” Margaret asked.
“Because she’s attacking me so virulently.” He held up his left arm. “The curse is reacting in me even quicker than it has with Neal. I believe she is afraid.”
“You sound as if she is in the next room,” Margaret said.
“She could be,” Harry answered. “One of those spells is for reincarnation. I have a theory, and it is more of a guess, that Fenella has reincarnated herself over the centuries so that she can keep the curse alive.”
Margaret went pale. “This is madness.”
“Aye,” Harry agreed. He placed his hand on Portia’s shoulder. “I don’t want to go further with this, Margaret. I don’t know how much time I have left, and I want to spend it with my wife.”
“But what of defeating it?” Margaret demanded. “If you know so much, why stop now?”
“I can’t go on,” he answered. “She knows my weaknesses. I’m not strong enough,” he said, and told her of his meeting with Lizzy.
