The Witch's Thief Page 3

  “Then I’m dead.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Julia?” he whispered. She bit her lip to keep from sobbing at the sound of his voice speaking her name in such a breathy whisper, almost reverently.

  She nodded, hating the sensation of tears forming beneath her eyelids.

  “Where am I?”

  “Merriweather Manor,” she replied.

  “Aunt Petunia?”

  “Parker is bringing her down.”

  His head jerked up, and his gaze darted around once more as if only now noticing he lay prone on the floor. He made a move to sit up. Julia put her hands on his chest, gently pushing him back down. He struggled, but did not seem to have the necessary strength to push her away. He was weak, she realized. But, from what?

  “Do not move,” she said. “I found you unconscious in the hall. Mrs. Prescott will see to you.”

  “No,” he said, and his eyes widened in sudden panic. “Help me up.”

  “I do not think it wise. It seems you are hurt in some way.”

  “Please,” he said, and his fingers grasped her hand. Her breath left her lungs at the sensation of his warm hand wrapping around her delicate one. “Help me up. I cannot allow her to see me like this.”

  His gaze implored her. A shiver passed over her skin. The depth of his desperation sank into her, convincing her that she needed to allow him to retain his dignity. Being discovered prone on the floor by his elderly aunt would bring no one satisfaction.

  “Here,” Julia said and reached down to grasp his shoulder. “You must help me.”

  He struggled to stand with her there to steady him. Together they moved to the nearest chair, where he crumpled into the seat, clearly exhausted from his ordeal. She sank to the stool by his feet.

  “What’s happened? Are you injured?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head.

  Several deep breaths later, he looked down at her solemn face, studying her, tracing her each feature with his gaze. She saw some emotion there, something she could no longer identify.

  He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Do you know me?”

  Julia nodded, and fought the tears that threatened to surge beneath her eyelids. It occurred to her that although she knew this man’s past, she did not know him now. He was a stranger to her. That knowledge hurt her, more than she ever thought possible.

  “I know who you were,” she answered. Her trembling voice sounded foreign to her ears. “Basil.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile. He seemed about to say more when they both turned toward the sound of commotion coming from the stair. Julia heard Mrs. Prescott’s high tones inquiring after Basil’s condition. Parker would have told her how they found him.

  “Do not mention the state of my health.” Basil spoke quickly for they had only moments before his aunt arrived. “She is not to be made aware of your concerns. Promise me.”

  Julia swallowed hard, warring over her loyalty to his aunt who had come to care for her during her time of need and that of the man she had once given her heart and soul. The urgency in his eyes persuaded her. She nodded. He visibly relaxed.

  What was wrong with him? What was he hiding?

  She had no time for any further thought, for Mrs. Prescott bustled into the room, Parker at her elbow.

  Chapter Two

  “Basil? My boy?” Aunt Petunia’s voice pierced his heart.

  He glanced at Julia. Gods, it was Julia. Dredging up every last bit of strength left in him, he forced his thoughts away from the woman beside him and stood on his own. His legs felt like pudding and his knee’s trembled. He prayed he might remain on his feet until he could seat his aunt in the chair next to him. He did not want her aware of his condition. It had never been his intention to tell any of them. He’d not change that now.

  “Auntie!”

  “My stars! It is you!” Petunia’s eyes widened, her smile blossomed on her rosy cheeks. She looked just as he remembered. Her hair was pulled under a cap, though several loose strands revealed the snow-white shade. Her blue eyes were round and wide and full of joy as she rushed with Parker’s assistance to his side. Basil took a slow step toward her, trying to appear as though all was well. Several inches shorter than his own massive height, the top of her head barely reached his chest when she embraced him.

  He smiled. How often in his past had he run to this woman in need of someone to soothe his hurts and ease his fears? She had been the rock he relied on after his parents’ death. His caretaker, his strength. Now that he was grown and their roles were all but reversed, he knew he’d need to appear as strong and confident as was possible. Especially if he wished to hide any secrets from her. Aunt Petunia was sharp as a blade. In his youth she’d seen through many of his childish lies. He only hoped that in her joy of seeing him returned, she didn’t look too closely at what he didn’t want her to witness.

  “Parker tells me he discovered you unconscious in the hall,” Petunia said, pulling away to look up at him.

  “A mere trifling,” Basil said. “When I stepped out of the mirror, I slipped and fell into a table in the hall.” He lifted his hand to the sore spot on his head. “Like a fool, I hit my head.”

  “Basil!” she said, then motioned for him to sit in the chair. With immense relief, he obeyed. She took a moment to inspect his head, ascertaining for herself the extent of his injury. “A simple poultice will see this healed. I can prepare it momentarily.”

  “No need, Auntie. I’m fine,” Basil said.

  “Well, my stars, it does me good to see you, my boy!” Petunia stated then leaned back to get a good look at him. “You’ve grown. Why were you gone for so long? I could have been dead and buried before setting eyes on you again. Did I not say so, Julia? Many times over the years. Oh, Julia,” Petunia said, turning to face the woman. “You know my nephew Basil. My dearly departed niece’s son. You were much attached as children, if I recall. Basil, do you not remember our neighbor Miss Grey? It has been a long time, indeed, if you should forget her. She spent more time here with you than your sisters, to be sure! She’s come to keep company with me at Merriweather as my lady’s companion.”

  Basil made to stand, as a gentlemen should, but Julia stopped him. “No need for formal re-introductions,” she said, smiling with genuine warmth. “We are old friends, are we not, Mr. Merriweather?”

  “So old that we need not be so formal, I believe, Miss Grey.”

  A shade of pink lightly flushed her cheeks. She lowered her lashes, looking quickly to the floor, though her smile remained in place. “Indeed,” she said.

  Aunt Petunia began to chatter once more, marveling at Basil’s physical changes and all the years that had passed since she last clapped eyes on him. Though he followed her dialogue, his aunt’s voice fell to the background as Basil focused on the sight of Julia.

  Julia!

  Stray strands of dark brown hair curled softly against her cheek. The fire’s light shone upon it, illuminating the reddish interwoven strands, a trait she shared with her younger sister. The color suited her pale skin and enhanced the jade of her eyes.

  His nostrils twitched. Her scent of lilacs plagued him. Basil refrained from inhaling deeply of that beauteous odor.

  The moment he opened his eyes to find himself on the library floor with her hovering over him, he had been convinced he woke to a dream. After all, he dreamt of her often. Even while he banished her from every waking thought, she still came to him at night, her hands searching for him, her heat warming him, her lips tasting him. He’d suffered many difficult nights with her memory tormenting him.

  And to have her now, only an arm’s length away and unable to embrace her as he so desired tore at his fragile heart. He resisted for decorum’s sake as well as her own good. He broke ties with her those many years ago. He’d not do her harm by engaging in her society now, no matter how much he yearned for her company.

  Aunt Petunia spoke his name and he realized she’d ask him a questi
on that he failed to answer while he busied himself with memories of Julia. He needed to pay better attention.

  “Ah, yes. I came as quickly as I could after I received your letter.” Basil rubbed his hands in front of the fire. He wondered if he’d ever feel warm again. “Where are the girls?”

  “Lillian and Melora are with Uncle Arden.”

  “Whatever for?” Basil looked up abruptly.

  Petunia’s elder brother Arden Prescott rarely wanted much to do with any member of their family. Occasionally, he accepted Petunia as a guest in his home in Cornwall out of familial duty, but other than that he preferred the life of a recluse. He was obsessed with his alchemical work. Basil visited his estate as a child and recalled glimpses of a gray-haired man smelling of rotten eggs. “Why are the girls with Uncle Arden?”

  “He’s claimed guardianship over them,” Petunia said, frowning. “He promised a Season, a chance for them to find husbands. I thought he was being charitable after all these years, so I urged them to accept. They’ve never been to London, after all.”

  “And?”

  Petunia shook her head in remorse. “Lillian contacted me a few weeks ago. There was no Season. He’s already picked men for them to marry. Sold them to the highest bidder, in fact. He’s run out of money and found husbands in exchange for funds.”

  “The scoundrel!” Basil sat up. “He cannot force them to marry. Who does he think he is that he may coerce them?”

  “His work has always been his obsession. I fear he’s grown worse still since my last visit to Cornwall.”

  “I do not know why you insist on keeping contact with him. He’s little more than a madman.”

  “He’s my brother,” she said, lifting her chin in defiance. “He’s the only one I have left since your dear grandfather departed this earth. As children, Arden and I were the best of friends. I honor that memory despite what he has become. And, I believe people can change, Basil. Don’t you?” Her left eyebrow rose inquisitively, daring him to answer.

  He looked away. Yes, people could change. He changed much in the last ten years. In more ways than he cared to admit.

  Basil glanced at Julia, whose gaze remained fixed on the fire, wondering in what ways she had changed, too. Her looks hadn’t changed greatly. Julia’s face remained much as the younger version he remembered, although her eyes differed. They looked older, serious. Her youthful exuberance had vanished. Things had happened to her, changed her, matured her in ways he was certain he didn’t wish to know. Had he done that to her? The vibrant life he had seen in her eyes was now dulled with...pain?

  He looked away from her. He’d go mad if he kept up this line of thought. Although he could blame himself for many things, he’d hoped Julia had managed to forget him as he promised to forget her.

  And because he was used to the lies he told himself, his hungry gaze turned back to her, devouring the sight of her. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her. The urge to reach for her, to take her and cradle her in his arms nearly overpowered him.

  “Julia, my sweet, would you be a dear and run to my rooms to fetch my shawl? This vulgar snowstorm has the chill in this room going right through to my bones. We’ll have Parker see to the fire. It’s starting to die down,” Petunia said.

  Julia nodded. “Of course, ma’am.” She obligingly stood, offered a brief curtsy and left the room. Basil couldn’t help but note the look of relief in her face as she darted passed him toward the door. He resisted the urge to reach for her arm. He wanted nothing more than to gather her into his embrace so he could give her a proper kiss.

  He still couldn’t believe it.

  Julia.

  How was it he returned to find her living in his very home? Where was her husband? And the myriad of children he imagined she’d have by now? Although it pained him to think so, she should have her own household by now.

  Aunt Petunia leaned over toward his chair, shaking him from his thoughts. She grasped his hand and squeezed tightly.

  “I have missed you, my boy.”

  Basil smiled. His throat tightened at the tender emotion in Aunt Petunia’s chubby face. He caressed her weathered hand, the affection he felt for his aunt warming him.

  “I never imagined you would stay away for so long.”

  “Nor did I.”

  “And with hardly a word? Basil, did they not have mirrors where you were?”

  “In fact, Auntie, they did not.” Basil released her hand and she sat comfortably back in her seat. “I’ve spent a goodly amount of time in wilderness virtually untouched by civilized man. Mirror communication was out of the question. I couldn’t even post a letter. I hoped you wouldn’t worry over much as I did promise to return.”

  “I assumed it would be a bit earlier than this.”

  Basil nodded, glancing to the door. How long did it take to retrieve an old woman’s shawl? Turning back to his aunt, Basil tried to focus on her instead of the woman who had gone upstairs.

  “And did you find what you were looking for?”

  “No.”

  “Care to tell me the reason you hid away within the jungles?”

  “I’ve explained in my few letters. I’m following Father’s footsteps. Searching the world for special spells and practices to record in the grimoires.”

  “Your father’s spellbooks might be the excuse for leaving England, but not the reason.”

  “That’s the only reason, Auntie,” Basil said. He turned back to face the fire and hoped his tired face did not reveal the lie. She was too perceptive by far. He prayed she’d not see the odd shudder course through him, nor the way his hand trembled on occasion. He clenched his fist when he felt one coming on, hoping to hide it from her. He wondered briefly how long he could manage to keep it all a secret. Especially with his foolish travels through the mirror. He knew better than to attempt it. Reed had tried to talk him out of it. But the urgency in his aunt’s letters compelled him. It was not only his sisters that worried him.

  “Where is Sage? Why has he not done anything to assist with Lillian and Melora’s troubles?”

  “Your brother’s been delayed in London. As soon as the storm is done and the roads are passable, he’ll join us here.”

  “Delayed?” Basil arched a brow.

  Aunt Petunia gave him a knowing glance and shrugged. She knew his brother’s habits better than he. Sage was a rogue or, as his aunt often referred to him, a free-spirit. He dallied with any woman with a pretty face and an embedded ring on her finger. Sage was not one to fall into a marriage-trap with a green girl. He much preferred a more experienced sort of woman.

  Some things, it seemed, had not changed.

  He glanced at the ceiling, as if he might see through the plaster and wood to the rooms above. Where was Julia? What took her so long? Having had a few moments to glimpse upon her only left him wanting more. He yearned to see her face again. He wanted to stare at her, to listen to her voice. He could be content to sit for hours and simply watch her. To be in the same room again. His skin ached to be near her.

  Where was she? And, why was she here in Merriweather Manor? Was it simply as a lady’s companion for his elderly aunt?

  He sighed, lowered his gaze and turned his attention back to his aunt.

  “You are the only one I could turn to, Basil. Sage will do all he can, of course, but he never held much sway with your uncle. Senna is visiting Hyacinth in Italy. They hope to arrive within the next month. And Drake, well... He remains secluded in his castle. Since Susanna’s passing, he’s much changed these days.”

  Basil nodded with impatience as his aunt catalogued his siblings and their goings on, but there was only one woman he wished to hear of and she was currently residing in one of the rooms above his head.

  “Basil, you must put a stop to your uncle’s horrid plans. You have been their guardian since your parent’s death. You must do something to save your sisters from such unwanted marriages.”

  “As much as I wish to, I can do nothing at the mo
ment. After the snowstorm moves on and the roads are passable, I will travel to Uncle Arden’s estate and settle this matter.” He leaned forward and patted his aunt’s frail hand. “Worry not, Auntie. I’ll bring the girls home.”

  She wrapped her other hand over his, squeezing tight. “Oh, Basil. I knew I could rely on you. You were always the one, you know. The most responsible.”

  “Auntie.”

  “No, it’s true. After your poor parents were killed in that horrid carriage accident, you became parent to your siblings. You had no choice but to grow up quickly, to take charge of the family. To guide them, to help them grow into the adults they are today.”

  Basil smiled. “My dear Auntie, you discredit yourself. I relied on you to care for the children while I was gone.”

  Petunia shook her head, refusing the role of family savior. Basil knew, even if she didn’t want to admit, he was no rescuer.

  No, he was far worse.

  A coward.

  ****

  Julia hurried down the hall and ran up the stairs. She found the room given to her upon her arrival at Merriweather Manor over a year ago and closed the door firmly before she began pacing the floor. She wrung her hands. Her long skirts swept against the rug. The rhythmic swishing noise usually calmed her any other night. Tonight, however, it simply agitated her further. She scowled as her fingers fisted together.

  “Whatever are you doing?” Marianne appeared at her side, conveying a look of annoyance at the disturbance Julia caused. Julia’s sister slumped onto the winged back chair near the wall. She blew away the curls that fell into her face with a heavy sigh.

  “We have a problem,” Julia said, noticing her voice remained breathy and soft. She scowled further and cleared her throat. “Basil Merriweather has returned.”

  “What?” Marianne jerked forward, sitting straight. Her reddish curls bounced in the firelight.

  Julia nodded. “He’s newly arrived. He’s downstairs in the library at this very moment. Oh, Marianne, I had not planned on this!”