Wizards Daughter

Ryder wasn't blind. It was clear that Rosalind had fallen hard for Nicholas Vail, and he knew next to nothing about him, and now here were two half brothers who would very much like to shoot the man dead. All the rumors Ryder had heard were obviously true.

And now his Rosalind was in love with this stranger, and he knew she'd made her decision. She'd only just met him. Ryder sighed. Well, how long did it take to fall in love? He would make inquiries immediately, starting with this hatred his half brothers had for Nicholas and focusing on any possible danger to Rosalind. He looked at Nicholas, who looked calm and somewhat ironic, his natural arrogance heightened, Ryder thought, because his two half brothers held him in such dislike.

Ryder wished he could leave London tonight and whisk Rosalind back to the Cotswolds, where she'd be safe from this young man and his mysterious past, this man who kept secrets as well as Ryder's own father had.

There was also the case of Rosalind's background. Had she mentioned anything to Nicholas as of yet? What would happen when she did?

He heard Lorelei laugh. Should he have Sophie drop a hint in the girl's ear that it wasn't wise for her to worship Grayson so blatantly? On the other hand, Grayson looked like he was quite enjoying himself so maybe the young lady knew exactly what she was doing. So many swirling undercurrents. Thank God Douglas and Alex would arrive tomorrow. He needed reinforcements, badly.

He conversed easily with the half brothers, knowing they were staring at Rosalind, their anger simmering. Richard Vail finally asked Rosalind if she was enjoying London.

'Oh, yes, ever so much. Everyone is quite kind, you know. Do you enjoy London as well, Mr. Vail?'

He nodded. 'You became quickly acquainted with our half brother.'

'I surely hope so,' she said with a sunny smile.

'And he only very recently arrived in London,' Lancelot said. 'One would think-' He paused, and because he was so pretty, it was a delicate pause.

Rosalind immediately filled the pause. 'One would doubtless think I have immense good taste, is that what you wished to say, Mr. Vail?'

'Not really,' Lancelot said. He shot a look at his brother, but Richard only shrugged, and worried his thumbnail.

'But of course you would know when Nicholas arrived in London, wouldn't you?' Rosalind patted her skirts. 'After all, you are family.'

There was an eternal moment of silence, then Richard and Lancelot Vail bowed to Ryder and Sophie and left the box.

'Wasn't that delightful,' Rosalind said behind her hand. 'I don't believe I am going to be tremendously fond of your brothers, Nicholas.'

'Trust me, they won't be fond of you either,' he said.

The theater darkened. Rosalind said low to Nicholas as the thick green curtain was hauled back up, 'Don't worry, Nicholas, I won't let those wretched dolts hurt you, and they want to, particularly Lancelot, the pretty little sod.' She raised her arm and made a muscle. 'I could destroy him.'

He laughed, simply couldn't help it. Then he cleared his throat. Laughter spurting out like that meant loss of control, no matter that it was for only a brief moment of time.

Ryder, who'd overheard this, sighed. Rosalind's heels were dug in so deep they were probably close to knocking down a Mandarin farmer in China.

Eventually, after Laertes artfully slew Hamlet with a poisoned sword and the stage was strewn with bodies, it required a good half hour to make their way through the crowds outside, then another twenty minutes for their carriage to be brought around. They drove to the Kilbourne town house first, all of them waiting in the carriage while Grayson escorted Lorelei up the wide stone steps to the front door. When the door opened, Grayson quickly realized that directly behind the butler stood Lorelei's father, looking closely at his little chick. What was he worried about? Grayson wondered. He gave Lord Ramey a bow, waved toward own his father and mother, who obligingly waved back, proving to Lord Ramey that their precious son hadn't debauched his precious daughter, and finally Grayson made his good-byes.

'Mr. Sherbrooke?'

Grayson turned. 'Yes, Miss Kilbourne?'

'Would you care to come to a small recitation tomorrow afternoon? All young people, perhaps twenty in all. We are reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.' She lowered her lids a trifle and stared up at him through lovely thick lashes. 'I recommended it. I felt it would please you.'

Well, it did. It was one of his favorite novels. However, Grayson wanted nothing more than to be left alone with Rosalind and have her translate the Rules. 'Well, you see, Miss Kilbourne, I fear that-'

'Actually, after we've read a chapter from her book, we II read from your latest novel, sir, and would very much appreciate your lending your expertise to the discussion of vampires.'

'Ah, well, in that case-perhaps a chapter or two would be stimulating,' and it was done.

When Grayson climbed back into the carriage he looked so self-satisfied Rosalind wanted to clout him. After he'd told them what he would be doing on the following afternoon, Rosalind sneered at him. 'You are so very weak. It is pitiful.'

'You're just angry because I won't be home to do your bidding. Besides, this recitation meeting, it won't take very long. Unless, of course, they wish to read a goodly portion of my book, then-' He gave an obnoxious shrug. 'If I'm not back in good time, Nicholas can take you for a ride in the park.'

Rosalind snorted. 'If all the young people present are like Lorelei, you won't escape for a week.' He gave her a very satisfied smile. His father laughed. His mother patted his hand.

13

Ryder wasn't laughing the next afternoon when his brother Douglas Sherbrooke, the Earl of Northcliffe, said privately to him, 'I am familiar with the Vail family, particularly this Nicholas's grandfather, Galardi Vail. I hate saying this be-cause it sounds so absurd, but I was told he wasn't of this world.'

'Wasn't of this world? What world, then? What the devil does that mean, Douglas?'

Douglas shrugged. 'Fact is, the rumors were that Galardi Vail was some sort of magician, a wizard of sorts. As for his wife, I believe she died in childbirth.'

'I wonder,' Ryder said, 'was he really a magician or a wizard, or did he simply believe he was?'

'I don't know. Rumors were rife about strange incantations chanted in a strange language, blue smoke rising above the forest, strange red lights glowing from behind draperies at the house, nonsense like that, and Galardi raised young Nicholas when his own father had removed him from his house at the time of his second marriage. He was around five years old, I believe. Nicholas was still a boy when his grandfather died. Well, I should say supposedly died. There was no physician in attendance and there were whispers there was no body.' Douglas shrugged. 'It sounds like one of Grayson's novels, but this is what I have heard. I remember it because it is so very out of the ordinary.' 'From whom did you hear this?'

'My main source is Tysen's curate, Mr. Biggly, some two years ago when he first arrived at Glenclose-on- Rowan. Alex and I were visiting Tysen and Mary Rose and he spoke of his prior living at Gorton-Wimberley, a small village in Sussex, near where this strange old man lived. Mr. Biggly could weave an excellent tale, and that is what I thought it until I chanced to hear a friend of Nicholas Vail's father say much the same thing. He too claimed the old man was a wizard. What about young Nicholas? After Galardi's death, he said that young Nicholas simply disappeared. Now Nicholas Vail has resurfaced and assumed his title. May I ask what this is all about? How did you meet Nicholas Vail?'

'Did you also know that young Nicholas's father cut him off, leaving him only what was entailed?'

Douglas shook his head. 'Is the young man a wastrel?'

'I don't think so, Douglas.' Ryder sighed. 'Before Sophie and Alex join us, let me tell you that Rosalind is in love with him. She met him Thursday night at the Pinchon ball. Four days. I hate to believe it, but you should see the way she looks at him. Our girl's in love, Douglas, tip over arse. And you know Rosalind. She never does anything