Last Enchantment

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Tegan had seen pictures of Chetbury Place in the media and online. She’d even taken a virtual tour of some of the state rooms, but this was different. She’d never really gotten a feel for the power the place exuded or the sheer scale of it.

Oliver drove them down in a Range Rover. His country car, he called it. Big and fast, with top-end leather seats, she loved it, but she still wondered why he hadn't used a limo or a chauffeured car. “Because I hate driving in London, and more often than not, I’m working. Or doing something else.” He glanced at her and waggled his brows in a comical way that she couldn’t help but laugh at. “But we might get there in a decidedly disheveled state or have to stop somewhere on the road for the night. I wanted to get here before the others. Get things done. Show you the place, too. I have a plan of the building, and it might be a good idea for you to memorize it.”

“Ahead of you. I did it online yesterday.”

He grinned broadly. “I might have known. But I have knowledge and plans not available publicly.”

“Oho, secret chambers?” Her mind thrilled at the thought.

“Not as such, sadly. But there are small rooms, wings I’ve never allowed anyone to map, and nobody bothers with the kitchens. All perfectly good bolt holes and private places.”

She gazed up at the imposing house—palace—getting closer by the second and swallowed. “And this is all yours?”

“All mine. A big part of what I do. I’ve turned it into a corporate center, hotel, and anything else I could think of. Not a safari park, though. I didn’t fancy lions in the arboretum.”

Her carefree giggle surprised even her. “It sounds painful.”

He laughed, the sound as happy as hers. “Very. I have an apartment upstairs that I use most of the time, but I also use the downstairs part for guest rooms.” He drew to a halt in front of a double staircase that led to an imposing front door, which opened as she looked up at it. He rested his arm on the back of her seat. “We’re sleeping downstairs in the earl’s and countess’s suites for this visit. The bedrooms adjoin and each has a sitting room, dressing room, and bathroom. My bedroom is a corner room, so unless you have a pressing need for a separate bedroom, we’ll use that. It’s more secure.”

“Why not use the apartment?”

“It’s a business meeting so I have to be more available, and much though I hate to admit it, some of the guests get a kick out of doing business with an earl. I’m not stupid enough to ignore a business advantage.” He paused. “If it were just us, I’d use it, but it’s like the London house. Very few people get to see my private quarters. I don’t use them for entertaining.” He gave her a glance, brimful of wickedness. “One person excepted.”

He’d explained who would be here this weekend. Several board members from a company he was taking over. They’d signed the paperwork, but he wanted to see them in social situations before he decided what to do about it. Someone on the board had been either careless or deliberately deceitful, and he wanted to find out who before he signed separate contracts with the board to retain their jobs.

“I wouldn’t have asked them had the deal not been done,” he told her. “Whatever else Marcus is, he’s a business shark, and I didn’t want him to get wind of anything before I did it. He wanted this company, too. Woefully badly managed at the middle management level, but with some sparkling ideas. Ripe for development. I’ll look at the structure and see where I can cut because it was on its way to bankruptcy when I came along. I bought it for a token amount, but I had to pay off some hefty debts. Marcus can’t do anything about it now. So he’ll see it as part of our mostly friendly rivalry, that I’m rubbing his nose in it. It helps that we’ll see him in social situations, and if we’re lucky, we’ll get him off center enough so we can read him.”

“I could help with some of the analysis,” she said. “If you want me to, that is.”

He’d covered her hand before returning it to the stick shift. “I would be eternally grateful. You have a wonderful gift for organization. You’ll probably be able to see the problems much faster than I can.”

And again she wondered if he was just being kind, but decided he was not, because he was speaking the truth. She did know how to analyze the hell out of any situation, and seeing it on paper or a computer screen made it that much easier for her. She had the kind of mind that sorted things, whatever they were, into patterns.

So they wouldn’t be alone with Marcus and his team, which would include her sister. She couldn’t help but feel relieved.

Meantime, people were hurrying down the steps toward them. Oliver glanced around when her attention left him, and he groaned. “Here we go.”

She realized what he meant when he exited the car and walked around the front to open her door. He swung her down before she could clamber out of the high vehicle but released her quickly and turned to face the staff. A man in an ordinary suit, who ought, she thought, to be wearing some kind of fancy livery from his upright bearing and wooden expression, as if he could see nothing that he shouldn’t. A woman carrying a clipboard who seemed determined to confront Oliver, and a younger man, also in a suit, but a more ill-fitting one. It was the young man who caught the keys Oliver tossed him. “Could you park it for me, Len?”

“At once, my lord.”

She could feel his grimace in her mind. Difficult to explain, especially since he showed no sign of it on his face. But he addressed the older man. “Grimm, I’d like you to meet Tegan Gibbs. Louis told you about her?”

She found herself under the scrutiny of a pair of unfriendly eyes, set in a smooth face that radiated disapproval without actually showing anything. Hard to describe, and although Oliver had linked his mind with hers, she couldn’t read anything. “He informed me that you were bringing a guest with you, my lord.”

“Indeed. You put her in the countess’s room?”

Grimm spared her a glance. “Yes, sir, I did. Unusual though the request is, we had no problem readying the room.” Then he turned his fish-cold gaze to her. “Welcome to Chetbury, ma’am.” Any more effusive and he’d turn her to ice.

“Thank you. I’m glad to be here.”

She could have sworn that cold gaze dropped in temperature even more at her accent. “You might wish to take the back stairs, sir. That way you will avoid the public. Your guests are being directed to the South Entrance. A few arrived earlier, and I suggested they might like to take the tour. Some of them accepted.”

Oliver stared at him, then groaned. “Fuck, I’d forgotten that it’s a public day.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “We’re open to the public four days a week. I wanted to show you the state rooms before we went up. I daresay we can dodge them, and the guides know me well enough not to make a fuss.” He grinned at her. “So what do you think of my little place in the country?”

“Overwhelming,” she suggested, and he laughed.

“Come on.” As they walked up the wide steps to the front door, he bent and murmured in her ear, “He’s like that with almost everybody. He either fawns like a puppy if they’re VIP’s or treats them like shit. But I won’t have him doing that with you.”

“Why do you put up with it?”

“Because he fawns over me.”

She entered the huge room beyond the doors laughing but stopped abruptly at the echo. A woman in a neat skirt and sweater turned her head at their approach, and although she bowed her head and smiled, she didn’t move toward them.

“I usually use a side entrance, but I wanted to show you this. It’s pretty amazing, some of it.”

Amazing was one word for it. Cold was another. The hall was held up by a forest of marble columns, all of them different colors and styles.

He touched the base of her spine, urging her to move. “This isn’t my favorite part. My grandfather built it. He died in the Civil War.”

The Civil War to her meant cannon and men in blue and gray and Rhett Butler kissing Scarlett on the bridge, so the date puzzled her. “Did he move to the States?”

He frowned, then laughed. “No, our civil war. Oliver Cromwell and Charles I and all that.”

“So that’s why you’re called Oliver?”

“It’s after him. Not every aristocrat fought for the King. My grandfather supported the Roundheads. Killed at Edge Hill.”

That surprised her. She’d imagined all the nobility fought for Charles, but her grasp of British history was vague at best before the nineteenth century. She still didn’t like the hall.

But she liked the view at the top. Long hallways stretched out either side, rooms branching off. She could see right down to the windows at either end. “It’s called enfilade,” he said. “A procession of rooms, each one more precious and more private than the last. If you got to the one at the end, past the state bedroom, you were really in.”

She let him lead her along the hallway to the right. He took her through a huge drawing room that he told her was used for balls in the old days, lined with massive group family portraits of people who looked vaguely like him. “Most country houses don’t have ballrooms. A waste, really, to have one room just for that. Salons and drawing rooms were used for dancing. Or the Great Hall, especially for the Christmas dances, when the lords would wait on the servants.”

“Why would they do that?”

“It was supposed to be holiday fun. But the servant who went too far could expect to be out of a job come the new year.” He grinned and touched the tip of her nose. “So watch yourself, lady.”

“I see. I’m a servant, am I?”

He stared at her, the smile fading from his face. “I’d say it was the other way around.”

Feeling uncomfortable, she looked away. This seemed the wrong place. She’d never felt like this about anyone before. Not surprising, because he was her first lover, but deep down there was so much more. Saying she loved him had only scratched the surface.

Someone crossed her field of vision, and she shivered. “Are there ghosts here?”

“In some places. None in the bedrooms we’re using, I promise. And none in my apartment.”

The idea of sleeping somewhere looking like these magnificent rooms scared her a little. And she wasn’t used to feeling scared, not until recently, anyway. He laughed and drew her close for a comforting hug, but she drew back before it could turn into something else. “There are people here, Oliver.”

“You’re ashamed to be seen with me?”

“The contrary. Just not used to public displays of…”

“Affection?” He grinned. “It’s okay, you can say it. Let’s be affectionate.” He bent closer and murmured in her ear, “Loving.” They’d agreed to keep their commitment to themselves for a while, not to announce it until they’d completed the mission. Unless it worked with them, but right now, they had no advantage in announcing it. They knew it, and that was enough.

That movement again, in the corner of her vision. Someone was watching them. She turned and saw another guide, who smiled. It didn’t help, much. But she wanted to see more. And then his phone rang. He answered it, said a few sharp words, and then said, “I’ll be right down.” He turned to her, but this time his smile was apologetic. “They’ve arrived. Virginia and Marcus and some other guests.”

“Ah.”

“How about you tag along with the public tour, and I catch up with you later? If you give me a call or wait downstairs in the hall when you’re done, I’ll be right with you.”

“I’d love to.” True, she was putting off the inevitable meeting, but she did want to see the rest of these magnificent rooms. “Although nobody can do the tour like you.” She moved closer. “I imagine you bought a lot of the things in here.”

“I did. Or discovered them in the attics. I restored them to the Georgian era, with a few additions, but I have some terrific staff who did all the hard work.” Before she could reply, he bent and dropped a swift kiss on her lips. “I’ll get Marcus and Virginia settled in their suite and leave them to it. Hopefully, I’ll catch up with you before you’ve finished the tour.” He winked. “We like to give the visitors their money’s worth. They’ve just seen what I showed you, so if you walk up that way, you can catch them. We’ll close them up later and use another wing for the meetings.” With a smile, he walked away, striding through the hallways as if he belonged there, as if he’d grown up here, which of course, he had.

She walked in the direction he’d indicated and found herself in a magnificent music room. The painted harpsichord was so beautiful it made her wish she could play. The guide was busy with her spiel, which turned out to be fascinating. They had quite a crowd today, and some were more formally dressed than others. She’d traveled down in jeans and a sweater, but the sweater was white cashmere, so she didn’t feel too out of place. In fact, she fitted in with most of the people. The ones in suits were more out of place.

Shuffling to one side, she tried to ally herself to the ordinary guests, the tourists. Then she felt him in her mind, soft and warm. Enough to communicate and to use a little of his power. She used some to create a miasma around her, a bit like shape-shifters did to disguise their presence. They called it “fuzzing.” A good word, because it blurred her appearance, encouraged people to look away.

A lady dressed in tweeds and a quilted jacket glanced at her and smiled. A Talent? Tegan had no way of knowing. She wouldn’t leech power from Oliver, although she knew she could if she wanted. Knowing was enough. Being in contact was enough. She settled to listening to the tour guide.

One of the more casually dressed crowd moved closer and murmured, “I saw you arrive late. Are you one of the weekend party?”

How to answer that? She didn’t want to ally herself with anyone. “I’m here for the tour.”

“Pity.” The man didn’t move away but didn’t stand so close she felt swamped, despite the fact that he was one big sonofabitch. I’m Spartan. I’m here for the tour, too. Then I disappear.

Shock jolted through her. Not that this was the dragon shape-shifter, but that she hadn’t recognized a Talent when he was standing next to her. And she hadn’t felt him until he chose to communicate with her. I’m Tegan.

I guessed. Fuzzing doesn’t work if you know what you’re looking for. Your drive down go okay?

Fine.

I’ll stay with you until the end of the tour, until Derrington collects you.

Alarm filled her, and a fear. If there was trouble, she should have sensed it. Surely she should be able to detect something? She wanted to beat her head against the nearest wall, try to thrash some sense into it. Wake up what she knew was gone forever. Is there something wrong?

No. He didn’t look at her but turned all his attention on the guide, who caught his rapt stare and flushed a little, hurrying her words. Those clear, blue eyes would fluster anyone. Except her, because she had a pair of paler eyes taking all her interest. Not exactly wrong. But I feel odd, strange, not quite right in my skin.

She might have lost the ability, but she recognized the feeling. You’re empathetic. You’re sensing something that doesn’t have words yet. A feeling. Concentrate. Or let me in, if you like.

Then he did look at her, just a moment, but that flash of astonishment made her feel less than useless. So she reverted to her old self, iced over, and stood up straight. It seemed to go with the persona. Sorcerers with awesome powers didn’t slouch. I might have lost my powers, but I can still recognize the feeling.

Come in then. In the old legends, vampires couldn’t enter a building unless someone invited them in. The story would have been more aptly used for sorcerers, who rarely intruded where they weren’t wanted. He dropped his barriers, and she entered his mind deeply enough to sense what he did.

It was like coming home. Helping Talents to identify something they felt, helping them to refine and develop the gifts they’d had from birth and never properly used. This man was empathetic, she felt it around him. She could have bathed in it. He cared deeply, when he allowed himself to care at all. But that was all she saw. She wasn’t there to pry, just to discover his feeling.

Just that someone in this building was frustrated, angry, to a very high level. High enough to make this man edgy. You feel it? she asked him.

Yes, I do. But it could be anyone.

It’s someone infecting the atmosphere here. You know telepathy isn’t directional, that you can’t track someone down with it.

His mouth tightened. Yes, I know. So when the guests have gone, what then?

Let yourself feel it, as you’re doing now. It could help you. It must be here, because we’re in the middle of the countryside. Only really powerful psis can work further than a ten mile radius.

I think I’ve been sensing moods unconsciously all my life.

She smiled, and then stiffened. Using his mind, so different to Oliver’s, his telepathy stronger, she detected the presence of a vampire. Duh, of course there was. But there were two here, not one. Two vampires. She gave Spartan a mental nudge. And check for that, too. Two vampires.

Sure will. I might send for reinforcements.

I don’t think that’ll be necessary. There are a lot of people in this house. Staff, guests…

Hotel residents, he continued. The hotel rooms are in the converted stables and the purpose-built place alongside it. Not in the main house. But they’re not far away. One of the wings has a series of residential apartments, and they have occupants, too. I don’t like this.

Tonight we’ll be more isolated.

I’ll check then, he said, determination coloring his tones.

The group passed through to the bedroom.

“This is the state bedroom,” the guide said and started on her practiced spiel. Tegan hardly noticed. She was more interested in this great house, and the history of its owner. But she followed the tour, Spartan shadowing her.

The guide took them to several more bedrooms and said, “The countess’s bedroom is around the corner, but that isn’t open at this time. It is very much like the earl’s room, but a little more feminine. The earl of the time bought a matching suite.”

She wondered who for. Who had Oliver cared enough for that he bought a lovely suite for them? A pang hit her, and she pushed it away quickly. How could she feel jealous of someone probably long dead?

“She’s not long dead. She’s living in Russia, and it was a purely practical arrangement.” A soft kiss at the base of her neck accompanied his softly spoken words. “Believe me, you don’t need to be jealous of anyone.” His lips coasted her ear, brushing them with barely more than hot breath before she turned around to face him. He smiled down at her. “Like it?”