“Why would there be grasshoppers in the nursery?” Ianthe was to do all training out of doors, which was why there hadn’t been an insect infestation in the manor, until now.

  “A book called Insecta and something else.” Clio shrugged.

  “A book on insects?” Why would his nieces have such a book?

  “I found it in the library,” Clio answered.

  “We were only looking through it,” added Nephele.

  “Do not tell me.” He could already guess.

  “All she did was point to the picture and say ‘Oh, grasshoppers.’ Then…”

  “The room was filled with grasshoppers,” he finished. Damon turned and pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered it if were too early for a brandy.

  While his niece was excellent in making insects appear, she’d yet to manage to make them disappear. That’s when his mother was needed.

  “I will return shortly,” he assured the two, then strode out onto the terrace, took a deep breath as he looked out over the calming water of the cove, and turned toward the gardens.

  While many estates had lovely, ornate, or simple gardens in which guests and family members could stroll, those did not exist here. Instead, the gardens of Nightshade Manor were wild—a witch’s garden, and beyond was woodland.

  Damon wandered among the plants, bushes and trees until he found his mother standing beside a large patch of Yarrow. She carried a basket filled with clippings and he decided not to ask what she planned on brewing.

  “Did you need something, Damon?” she asked without turning and before she saw him.

  “Grasshoppers.”

  His mother turned and looked. “Where?”

  “Apparently they have infested the nursery.”

  Instead of outrage, his mother simply chuckled. “Far worse has happened when a young witch is learning.”

  “I recall,” he grumbled as he followed his mother out of the garden. Maia had thought it great fun to have the roots of a tree wrap around his and his brothers’ ankles to keep them in place. He’d been eighteen and he and his brothers were visiting to mourn the loss of his older brother Cadmus. Damon never imagined that six years later he’d lose his eldest brother and become Viscount Bentford and the future Marquess of Chandos. He’d been the third son and none of the duties should have ever fallen to him.

  “Can we rid the estate of all insects, Grandmother,” Nephele asked as soon as they stepped back into the manor. “I am afraid of what Ianthe will conjure next. It might be poisonous or sting.”

  His mother laughed. “I will do no such thing. Insects are just as important to nature as trees, grass, flowers and birds.” She then disappeared up the stairs, and Damon was confident that in a matter of moments there would be no more grasshoppers in the nursery.

  “How long is this going to take?” Clio asked.

  “It will take some time,” Damon answered. “Ianthe had no experience with magic until it happened.”

  “Why?” Clio asked.

  “It is better to shelter children because the abilities that Ianthe is developing must always remain a secret.”

  Sadness filled their eyes.

  In sheltering them from magic, he’d also sheltered them from the truth of their parents’ death. That was, until they arrived at Nightshade Manor and visited their parents’ grave. That’s when Damon and his mother finally told them the truth. Not the how because that could wait until they were older, but the why, and instilled in them the importance of keeping their abilities a secret from anyone outside of their immediate family.

  “The grasshoppers are gone,” his mother said as she entered the room, brushing her hands together as if the task was complete. “So is Ianthe. Do either of you girls know where she’s gone off to?”

  Damon, his mother and the servants searched the manor and the grounds but there was no sign of Ianthe anywhere. “Where could she have gone?”

  “A footman saw her strolling up the drive,” a maid announced as she rushed into the parlor. “He did not think there was a concern and went about his duties.”

  “Would she have left the estate?” he asked his mother.

  “Where would she go?” she countered.

  “Miss Ianthe was asking questions about Bocka Morrow yesterday, and what kind of shops it held, and about the residents,” the maid answered. “I told her some and said that one day you would likely take her.”

  “Why would she wish to go into Bocka Morrow?” Damon asked. Though, she was female and those born of that gender did enjoy shopping, and given her age and the changes Ianthe was experiencing, perhaps she’d developed a desire for a new bonnet.

  “Did you tell her of Brighid and the apothecary?” his mother asked.

  “Yes,” the maid answered. “Should I not have?”

  “No, it is alright, but I fear that is where Ianthe may have gone.” His mother let out a heavy sigh as she settled onto the settee.

  “Why?” Damon demanded. He knew the shop was owned by a witch, but not why his niece would seek her out.

  “Ianthe told me last night that she wanted to be rid of her powers.”

  The draw to Nightshade Manor and curiosity about the family had not lessened in two days and Cordelia could not for the life of her understand why.

  Perhaps it was because they were witches? However, that wasn’t an oddity in Bocka Morrow as there were at least five witches who resided in the village, and there had been witches in the area for her entire life. Yet Nightshade Manor called to her as if she needed to be there. A pull so great that it was nearly impossible to disregard.

  But ignore it she would, which prompted Cordelia to take a walk into the village where she hoped that there were new novels in Pennick’s Bookshop, but instead, she turned toward the apothecary – The Hourglass. Brighid, the woman who ran the shop, was also rumored to be a witch, but Cordelia had no proof, nor did it matter. The apothecary always had what she needed, whether it was a gentle soap, fragrant candle, or delicious tea.

  Tea! Yes, she should inquire about a tea to calm her mind and settle her soul, then perhaps she might return to herself.

  As she entered the little bell above the door tinkled and Brighid looked up from behind the counter and gifted her with a smile. On the other side was a girl who Cordelia recognized as having arrived at Nightshade Manor a few days earlier.

  As Brighid was busy, Cordelia perused the items upon the various shelves until she could ask for a tea that would bring her relief.

  “I should go,” the girl whispered.

  “You may speak freely here,” Brighid said.

  “What about her?” the girl asked.

  Cordelia knew she spoke of her, and even though she tried not to eavesdrop, the apothecary wasn’t large enough for that to be possible.

  “I assure you that Miss Cordelia will say nothing of your needs.”

  “I can leave and come back,” Cordelia offered. She really didn’t wish to intrude on something that was private, yet the curiosity of the past few days had only grown stronger. What concerns could a girl have, and why seek out another witch?

  “That is not necessary,” Brighid said, then introduced Miss Ianthe Norcott.

  “Nightshade Manor borders Hollybrook Park, where I live,” Cordelia informed the girl.

  “You know my family?” she asked.

  “I know Norcotts from London.” She couldn’t let the child know that she knew her grandmother, or who Cordelia assumed was her grandmother because then Ianthe would know that they’d been spied on.

  “My grandmother is the Marchioness of Chandos,” Miss Ianthe stated with pride.

  “Ah, then you are related to the Ladies Maia, Larisa and Selene.”

  The girl grinned. “They are my aunts. Are you friends?”

  “Acquaintances,” Cordelia answered. “My younger sister, Adriana, is a good friend of Lady Larisa.”

  When thinking of witches inhabiting Nightshade Manor, it never occurred to Cordelia that they were also of Society until Lady Chandos had arrived. Nor would she have ever guessed that the Norcott sisters were witches. Or, at least, she assumed they were.

  Miss Ianthe gave a quick nod. “It was nice meeting you both.” Then she exited the apothecary.

  “How very odd,” Cordelia murmured.

  “She came for something I cannot give her,” Brighid offered. “How may I help you?”

  Cordelia chose her words carefully. “I have been plagued with an obsession of sorts these past few days, which I would rather not describe. I was hoping that you would have a tea to settle my mind.”

  “An obsession?” Brighid asked. “Or a calling or need?”

  The witch was too insightful by half. “All three if I am to be honest and I wish to quiet the yearning to seek what is none of my concern and bring an end to the dreams that have also plagued me.”

  Brighid gave a quick nod then pulled jars from the shelf behind her, measured the ingredients into a jar. “This could help quiet that desire,” she offered. “However, if this obsession, calling or need is meant to be, it will not go away until it’s satisfied no matter how much tea you drink.”

  “Thank you.” Cordelia took the tea and paid Brighid, certain that the tea would cure her.

  “If the need is strong enough, so that it is constantly on your mind, then it is not to be ignored,” Brighid warned.

  “I fear I must.”

  Brighid grasped Cordelia’s hand and stared hard into her eyes. “Nightshade Manor is what calls to you.”

  A chill snaked up Cordelia’s spine, but she didn’t answer.

  “Perhaps it was providence that brought you and Miss Ianthe to my shop today. Do not ignore such but listen to the inner voice that guides you.”

  Cordelia pulled her hand back. Brighid was only surmising what called to Cordelia because the obsession began near the time Miss Ianthe and her family had arrived. It was simply an assumption. Therefore, Cordelia was determined only to listen to the voice that told her to drink the tea and let go of her obsession.

  She’d just turned to exit when the bell above the door tinkled, and the entry was filled by the gentleman who had arrived at Nightshade Manor only a few days earlier.

  Cordelia sucked in a breath. He was far more handsome up close with his wide shoulders, tapered waist, strong jaw, firm lips, dark hair and light brown eyes.

  She resisted the urge to fan herself when the apothecary suddenly became unusually warm.

  Goodness, he’d not done or said anything, and she was struck speechless.

  Brighid grasped her hand again. “Destiny, Miss Cordelia,” she whispered. “Fate may have arrived.”

  Cordelia leaned close to the proprietor. “If I was seeking a fortune, I would have visited Madam Boswell instead of coming here.”

  Brighid chuckled as she let go of Cordelia’s hand and straightened. “How may I help you?”

  Cordelia presumed Brighid knew that the gentleman came from Nightshade Manor or were her words of fate merely a coincidence?

  “I’m looking for my niece,” he said stepping further into the apothecary. “She is about this high, red hair.” He held his hand at about the height of the child who had just left.

  “Miss Ianthe?” Brighid questioned.

  “Yes. Is she here?” He glanced about.

  Cordelia blinked as his words registered. Uncle and not father? At least it explained why he didn’t look old enough to have a twelve-year-old daughter.

  There hadn’t been parents with Miss Ianthe…then she remembered that Adam had mentioned that an Evander Norcott and his wife had died a few years earlier. Had they left behind daughters?

  “She’s already left, Lord Bentford,” Brighid offered.

  He frowned. “You know who I am?”

  “Your niece did explain where she was from and who accompanied her.” Brighid smiled. “I do hope your mother visits. I’ve not seen her in three years, and I do enjoy taking tea with her.”

  “I will tell her,” he offered politely.

  She should say something, but Cordelia didn’t know what to say. Had Lord Bentford robbed her of speech? Cordelia had never experienced such awareness or nervousness being close to a handsome gentleman before. She’d also not met anyone near as handsome as Lord Bentford.

  “She left only moments ago.” Cordelia somehow managed to find her voice.

  Lord Bentford frowned. Cordelia wasn’t certain if it was out of concern for his niece or because she had spoken to him without a proper introduction. He must be wondering who she was.

  “I did not see her,” he said. “Though, if she saw me, she may have made certain I did not see her.” He blew out a sigh as if exasperated.

  “My apologies,” Brighid rushed to say as she came around the counter, “Viscount Bentford, please allow me to introduce Miss Cordelia Vail.”

  Recognition lit in his eyes. “Vails of Hollybrook Park, our neighbor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your brother, Viscount Lynwood, is an acquaintance, but I’ve not seen him in some time.”

  “He hasn’t returned to London in three years,” Cordelia offered.

  “That would explain why I have not seen him.” Viscount Bentford smiled, revealing straight white teeth and warmth in his brown eyes. In an instant Cordelia was smitten.

  Goodness! She knew nothing about him so she certainly was not smitten.

  Chapter 4

  No doubt Ianthe had hidden if she’d seen him, but she couldn’t have gone far as Bocka Morrow wasn’t so large. At least it didn’t appear to be so.

  What had been a surprise was discovering Miss Cordelia Vail.

  He didn’t recall seeing her in London these past Seasons. Even though Damon avoided where his mother may be present, he still attended balls. He certainly would have remembered someone as lovely as she with her golden hair and blue eyes. Even though Miss Cordelia wasn’t smiling and seemed quite serious, Damon was still taken by her appearance. She may be petite, and her head barely came to his chin, but Miss Cordelia filled out her bodice quite nicely.

  Damon scolded himself for the last observation. He’d come to find his niece, not admire his neighbor.

  “As Miss Cordelia knows what your niece looks like and has lived in Bocka Morrow her entire life, perhaps she can help you search for Miss Ianthe,” Brighid offered.

  Miss Cordelia’s blue eyes widened in surprise, and she jerked her head toward Brighid. He’d seen that silent warning stare too often, usually delivered by one of his sisters.

  “If Miss Cordelia is otherwise engaged, I’m certain that I can locate Ianthe on my own.”

  “She is not,” Brighid exclaimed.

  Miss Cordelia may be free, but she did not want to assist him, which was rather disappointing. Though Damon didn’t know why he felt this way since he usually avoided misses whenever possible.

  “I don’t wish to impose.” Though in truth, he very much wished to. He wanted her to search with him and Damon was brought up short in wondering why he’d want such.

  “It is no imposition, Lord Bentford,” Miss Cordelia assured him. “I will be happy to assist you.”

  He hadn’t expected her offer after the way she’d sent a warning glance to Brighid. “I thank you and welcome your assistance,” he said and held the door so that she could precede him.

  “It is really not necessary that you help,” he said once they were on the pavement. “I am certain Brighid offering your assistance without your consent put you in an awkward position.”

  “I do not mind. It’s just that…”

  “What?” he asked when she didn’t continue.

  “Brighid has certain ideas, and I believe she may have been hoping to put us together, and for that I do apologize.”

  Damon chuckled. The witch had been playing matchmaker. But why would she do so since he and Miss Cordelia had just met? Unless Brighid thought it was time that Miss Cordelia married and would have offered her up to the first bachelor who stepped into the apothecary. “There is no need to apologize. I suffer the same interference from my mother.”

  “I am sorry.” She gave him a glance that could only be described as pitying humor and for an inexplicable reason, he grew relaxed in her presence.

  “Where might my niece have gone off to?”

  “If she was returning to Nightshade Manor, which I believe was her intention, she would have gone the way you came. It’s likely after you passed her hiding place she continued on.”

  He blew out a sigh. Miss Cordelia was probably correct and as much as Damon should hurry to go after Ianthe, he wasn’t as anxious as he’d been when he left Nightshade Manor. As of a few moments ago, she was unharmed, and Ianthe would likely remain so, and he’d come across her before she could go far. Therefore, he walked with Miss Cordelia who had been forced upon him by a matchmaking witch.

  “Did you walk or bring a carriage?” she asked.

  “I left my horse at the livery stables.”

  She nodded. “Then we are at least headed in the right direction.”

  There was something different about Miss Cordelia, but he couldn’t determine exactly what that was.

  She was lovely, and serious, but it was something else.

  She didn’t wish to be with him!

  There was no flirtation, and she hadn’t so much as batted an eyelash. Not that Damon held himself out to be anyone special, but his experience with most misses was their uninspired and irritating flirtations. Those misses saw him as their chance at being a marchioness one day, after his father passed, and a viscountess immediately upon marriage. He was certain that Miss Cordelia knew this as well, yet it didn’t seem to matter to her, which was quite refreshing.

  “Have you attended the Season?” he found himself asking. “I don’t recall meeting you previously.” It’s not possible he would have forgotten if he had, of that Damon was certain. He may avoid misses, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take note of their loveliness and Miss Cordelia was prettier than most with her golden hair and perfectly plump and kissable lips.