Very odd indeed.

  At least it explained his auras, and they would likely right themselves once Chedworth had recovered from overindulgence.

  Chapter Seven

  His friends may have found humor in Philip’s predicament, but he had not been suffering from too much ale or anything else. He did not wake with a headache or upset stomach. Further, he recalled every moment of the night before. That would not have happened had he been deep in his cups.

  Which meant that his hand had cramped and changed, except, he did not know why.

  For those reasons, Philip avoided everyone for most of the day. He had thought about going to Madam Boswell, but what did he say? “My hand cramped and got hairy and then it was better. Do you know why?”

  Madness! They would commit him to Bedlam.

  There had to be an explanation.

  It could have been something slipped into his ale that left no unpleasant lasting effects.

  The Hourglass, which was an apothecary run by a witch, was not so far from the Crown and Anchor. Could the witch have given the owners the wrong herbs to mix with their ale or food?

  Except, Philip had been the only person afflicted.

  Even his horse sensed something was wrong. Philip had thought to ride today, but his horse pulled away from him, and put himself at the back of the stall when Philip had approached. That had never happened before either. No amount of coaxing, or carrots, could draw him forward.

  Philip had also spent a good part of the day looking at his hand, waiting for it to change, and wondering if he had imagined it.

  What if he was losing his mind?

  That was a disturbing thought.

  “Lord Chedworth, is all well?”

  He turned to find Lady Antonia walking toward him. She was emerging from the magical garden and into the orchard where Philip had retreated to avoid everyone.

  “Yes,” he answered. He certainly couldn’t let Lady Antonia know his concerns. She would distance herself before he ever had a chance to court her.

  That is what he should be thinking about—courting Lady Antonia, but he was too preoccupied with his hand and what had happened.

  Except, even courting her hadn’t been decided upon because he hadn’t asked the questions that had plagued him since London.

  She tilted her head and studied him. “Your aura says differently.”

  Blast! He had forgotten she could read his aura, which was rather unsettling, not that he really understood what an aura revealed. “What color is it today?”

  “Grey, for one, which I believe is from being tired.” Her lips quirked. “You were out late last night and drank ale.”

  “Yes, well not as much as my friends claim,” he defended.

  Lady Antonia nodded. “I also see dark yellow, not the yellow of before, which usually means a stressful situation, and finally, murky white, the color of uncertainty and fear.”

  Perhaps Lady Antonia wasn’t for him if she’d always be able to read him so well. Though, this was also the first time in his life that he had ever wanted to hide anything from anyone.

  “The fact that you have three colors means there are still changes. Is that what worries you?”

  Philip nearly snorted. If only he could be concerned with simple changes about to happen in his life. Unfortunately, his recent change was more worrisome, but did he dare tell her what had happened? His friends had laughed at him, but Philip still remembered the pain and how his hand had changed.

  “I likely need more sleep.” Philip pushed his fingers through his hair. “Perhaps I did drink more than I realized.” He had to believe that was the case. “I am certain that all will be back as it should tomorrow, and I will once again be yellow and orange with a hint of pink.” He truly hoped that was the case.

  Something had deeply disturbed Lord Chedworth. It wasn’t just his aura that had changed, but a storm of anxiety, trepidation and dread swirled within. Antonia wanted to pull away, leave him, but she couldn’t while he was so distressed.

  This was also the first time she’d not experienced peace in his presence. He had been her calm, but it was the opposite today.

  Oh, she wished that she could help Chedworth, but if he would not tell her what he feared, she could be of no assistance.

  “Have you found a veiling spell?” he asked.

  Antonia blew out a sigh. “Nothing so far.”

  They turned and started to walk back to the garden.

  He offered his arm, but as soon as her hand touched him, Antonia was taken aback by visions of a hairy hand as fear and panic assailed her body.

  Had she been wearing gloves, the images and emotions would not have been so clear. Such was not the case now, and Antonia quickly realized that Chedworth was far more unsettled by earlier events than he was even letting on.

  It also took everything Antonia had within her not to yank her hand back from his. She’d not told him the rest of her power for fear that he might not come near her again. But she also had to ask and hoped that he answered truthfully.

  “What did Mr. Jourdain mean by a hairy hand and long nails?” She hoped that her question was put in a curious and conversational tone, but terror assailed his body and then hers at the question, though she tried desperately not to show a reaction.

  “I am certain it is nothing.” He pulled away, stepped back and then gestured for her to enter the garden path ahead of him. The relief from no longer experiencing the intensity of his emotions was near overwhelming. She still experienced them, but they were quieted without touch.

  “Are you certain?” she asked. “He seemed to think something occurred.”

  “He did not believe me,” Chedworth answered as he rubbed the back of his neck, a clear sign that something had occurred that disturbed him deeply.

  He stopped and turned to her again. “Do you promise not to tell anyone?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I am also certain it was my imagination, but the memory still lingers.”

  “It is likely if you had enjoyed more ale than one should.” She needed to remain undisturbed or Chedworth may not tell her what had really frightened him.

  “When we were riding back from Bocka Morrow, I was looking up at the stars, enjoying the night when I experienced a terrible cramping in my hand and fingers. When I looked, the back of my hand was covered in hair and the nails had also grown longer. I called out to Cassian and Amcaster, but by the time they reached my side, my hand was back to normal.”

  Antonia tried to school her thoughts and features, but alarm swept through her body.

  Chedworth had not been in the garden. Had he?

  “Are you certain it was only ale you drank?” she asked.

  “Yes!” he nearly yelled, then blew out a breath. “I am sorry. I am frustrated, and worried, but I know what I saw and felt.”

  “I believe you,” she offered. “What time was it? Do you recall?” Though that shouldn’t make a difference, maybe it did.

  “Nearing midnight, I suppose,” he answered. “What do you think it was?”

  That was a question she was not willing to answer right now because she was afraid that she already knew, no matter how impossible.

  “I am certain there is a reasonable explanation,” Antonia offered. “It could have been something you accidentally ate, mixed with the ale. You might never know the answer, or you may discover a reasonable explanation.”

  “You do not think I am mad?” he asked as if this was a deep concern.

  “No,” she assured him with a soft laugh.

  “Do you think it will happen again?”

  Antonia shrugged because she truly did not know, but hoped with all her heart that it never did again.

  Chapter Eight

  A reasonable explanation, that is what Philip needed.

  He wanted to trust in what Lady Antonia had told him, and her words had calmed him, especially since she had not pulled away. But, as the night grew darker, his anxiety returned. What if it happened again, tonight?

  For that reason, Philip did not go into supper, nor did he partake of ale or brandy or any of the liquors within Nightshade Manor. He was hungry and sober when he made his way to the Sacred Grove to await the midnight hour.

  The secrets of the Sacred Grove had been revealed little over a year ago, and even though men were still discouraged from entering, the dryads who lived here no longer feared the men of his family.

  As he sat on the steps of the temple and stared out over the lake, he waited, his heart pounding in anticipation and fear.

  The moon rose high in the sky, and as midnight approached, dizziness began to assail him. The lake shifted and blurred in his vision as the trees surrounding it swayed, not from gusts of wind. Then the ringing or buzzing in his ears began. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Just because he had suffered such the night before did not mean it would occur again.

  Philip had barely finished his thoughts when both hands cramped, and he couldn’t help his groan of pain as he doubled over.

  This wasn’t happening. It could not be happening, but as much as he denied the fact, Philip opened his eyes to see that both hands, instead of the one, were covered in hair and his nails were long enough to be claws.

  “No!” he yelled.

  “Lord Chedworth!” a woman gasped.

  He did not know who she was, but suspected it was one of the dryads. Quite beautiful and dressed as one would expect if they were to view a goddess of ancient Greece.

  Two other dryads joined her.

  “What is happening?” he asked.

  They looked at his hands and took a step back.

  “Do not return. Ever!” the first one to emerge ordered.

  “You see them?” he demanded, holding up his hands.

  The women nodded.

  “You must leave,” another dryad ordered.

  “Do you know what is happening to me? What this is?”

  She frowned and tilted her head. “You do not?”

  “No!” he cried.

  “Seek a witch, but do not return to the Sacred Grove.”

  The three then faded into the trees.

  Philip glanced back down at his hands. The pain was gone as were the changes.

  Seek a witch, they had said.

  His mother was not here, nor did he want to take this to his aunt. His sisters and cousins were not an option either as he did not want to endure their teasing before offering a solution.

  There was only one person he could speak to on this matter and that was Lady Antonia.

  It had been a restless sleep and as soon as Antonia entered the breakfast room, she looked for Lord Chedworth, but he was not present.

  She had no explanation for why a hand might change, so following supper last evening, she had returned to the vault with Samantha, Petra, and Maia, and while she searched for a veiling spell or artifact that could help her, she also looked for a reason why Chedworth was undergoing changes. Nothing could be found, but she would continue to look. It could take weeks for them to read everything, and Antonia feared they didn’t have that much time.

  She then read through her great-grandmother’s spell book. When no answer could be found within, and as a last resort, she reviewed the spell for turning a man into a werewolf, or Lycan.

  It was as before, the spell needed to be recited three times under a new moon for it to take effect during the next full moon. There hadn’t been a full moon yet and she’d only read the spell once, so she should not be the cause of his changes. Besides, he had not even been there that night.

  Or had he?

  No, she would have known. She would have felt him.

  Unless he hadn’t been close enough and if that was the case, then he should have been too far away to be affected by a spell.

  If only she could read the rest of the page. There was more written, but it was too faded to make out no matter how hard she tried.

  No doubt her aura was as grey and dark yellow as Chedworth’s had been yesterday because she had gotten very little sleep, and she was terribly worried.

  “Is all well, Lady Antonia?”

  She glanced up to note that Chedworth had taken a seat across from her. Antonia didn’t even remember filling her plate from the sideboard and taking a seat.

  Usually such only happened to her when there was so much noise from emotions that she couldn’t concentrate.

  Antonia blinked. “Yes…I suppose…I am sorry. I did not sleep well last night.”

  And, neither did he. The grey of his aura was darker than before, as was the yellow, and the murky white more pronounced.

  Had he gone through changes again last night?

  Did she even want to know.

  “Nor did I.” Chedworth placed his hands flat on the table. “Both of them this time.”

  Antonia quickly glanced around but nobody else was sitting near them, nor heard what he said.

  “I am sorry.” What else could she say. Further, it was quite inadequate given she may be the one responsible.

  Oh, she hoped that she was wrong.

  “Would you care to walk with me after we have broken our fast?”

  “Yes,” she answered without thinking. “I mean, I would like that.”

  He gave a half smile, then turned his attention to the food on his plate.

  Antonia tried to eat, but like the day before, her stomach was in knots, tight with worry, and all she managed to consume was some toast and tea.

  She was soon joined by Petra, Maia and Samantha and while they discussed all that they had read in the vault, Antonia only partially listened. She already knew what they’d found because anything of interest was noted upon discovery.

  “You still have found nothing for a veiling spell?” Chedworth asked.

  “Not yet, but we will,” Petra insisted, and Antonia hoped that she was right. Except there may be a far more important spell to be discovered or written.

  Chedworth finished his meal and then stood. “Lady Antonia, are you ready to join me.”

  She glanced up and smiled. “Yes.”

  Under any other circumstance Antonia would look forward to and enjoy a stroll with Chedworth, but nothing was normal, even if Maia and Petra watched the two of them with interest. No doubt they would have questions for her when she joined them in the vault later.

  Mr. Jourdain entered before they took their leave and approached Lady Wharton. “Basilia would like you to call on her at the earliest possible moment.”

  “Is something amiss?” Lady Wharton asked.

  “She would not say, but she is disturbed and said that it is imperative that she speak with you.”

  Lady Wharton placed her napkin at the side of her plate and stood.

  Chedworth tugged on Antonia’s elbow and drew her to the doors leading to the terrace.

  “Who is Basilia?” she asked.

  “A dryad and I know why she wishes to speak to my aunt.”

  Chapter Nine

  Philip wanted to disappear because he was not ready to face his aunt and tell her what he was experiencing.

  He didn’t even know what was wrong with him, but it had frightened the dryads.

  “I had not known there were dryads at Nightshade Manor,” Lady Antonia said.

  “Nobody is supposed to know, and I would not have told you except I know why Basilia wishes to see my aunt.”

  He said nothing else, but kept walking, leading Lady Antonia away from the house. He would hide if he could.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To a clearing,” Philip said as he realized his direction, stopping only when he came to a gate on a far wall, nearly hidden by climbing roses. Even though it was November, roses still bloomed. Such was the case when Nightshade Manor was inhabited by witches whose magic was connected to the earth.

  He pushed the gate open and allowed Lady Antonia to exit before him, then closed the gate and hoped that nobody had seen them leave.

  “You are being very mysterious. It is as if you could not wait to get away.”

  “I could not.” He blew out a sigh and finally came to a stop in the middle of the clearing surrounded by trees.

  Lady Antonia did a turn and looked about. “This is lovely.”

  “The Romani camp is on the other side of those trees.”

  “Is that who you wish to see?” Lady Antonia asked. “Do you hope they have answers?”

  Philip pushed his fingers through this hair. “I wish it were so simple, but it is not. It was Basilia who told me to seek a witch.”

  “Why?” Lady Antonia asked, and Philip found himself telling her what had occurred in the Sacred Grove.

  She paled the more he spoke. Was she now afraid of him as the dryads had been?

  “Lord Chedworth, I have a question for you.”

  “I have nothing but questions.”

  “Yes, well, I need to know where you were the night of the New Moon.”

  He cocked his head and stared at her. Why did it matter? Except, Lady Antonia stood stiff, her hands clasped before her, and if he was not mistaken, she may be holding her breath.

  “I went to the Mermaid’s Kiss with Jourdain and Amcaster.”

  “When did you return?” she asked.

  “Before midnight.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  Did he admit that he had spied on them, even though it had not been well done of him?

  “I followed you and my cousins and Lady Samantha into the gardens, but I did lose you.”

  “Why?”

  “I was curious, though having lived with witches my entire life, I am not certain why.” Except Lady Antonia had been with them.

  “After you lost us, did you return to the house?”

  “No,” he answered again. “I came across you in the center.”

  “What were we doing?”

  He frowned, still not certain why that was important. “You were reading from a book, not that I could hear you.”

  Lady Antonia closed her eyes and blew out her breath. She then dropped her chin. “I am so very sorry,” she whispered.