“You are so generous, my lady,” breathed Millicent, trying to sound adoring instead of suspicious.
Lady Chatterly shrugged. “I made a promise.” She didn’t elaborate on her explanation and Millicent resisted the urge to press. Besides, what did it matter, when it only made it easier for her to get her hands on the relic?
Instead Millicent worried about what the woman meant when she said the relic would choose one of the ladies. She would have to follow the woman somehow, catch her alone or asleep in order to steal the thing. At least she had a significant advantage over the other shape-shifters still in the ballroom. She would know which of the women had the relic. She studied the ladies around her, some old, some just barely out of the schoolroom.
Lady Yardley leaned forward, her hazel eyes bright with reflected candlelight. “He’s real then?”
“Of course.” Lady Chatterly gave her a dreamy smile. Several other women nodded just as dreamily with her. “Quite real, I assure you.”
“And how will the relic choose?” persisted Claire. “Really, darling, you must quit being so mysterious and give us more information. There are too many of us innocents here tonight.”
The feathers in Lady Chatterly’s hair swayed with her nod. She removed her gloves and then set her reticule on the shiny surface of the table. The fidgeting of the younger girls ceased as they all stared at the embroidered silk bag. An expectant silence fell, only the muffled strains of the music from the ballroom disturbing it.
Lady Chatterly loosened the drawstring and removed an exquisite ivory fan, a gold-embossed dancing card, and a silver filigree perfume box. Silk swished and corsets strained as the ladies leaned closer for a better look. With a dramatic flourish, the lady dug something out from the very bottom of the bag, set it on the table, and swept everything else aside.
Some of the ladies sighed with disappointment, but Millicent’s heart skipped. It looked old. Old enough to be a true relic. A solid band of dull silver with a round stone set in the center. The blue-gray shimmer of the jewel hypnotized her for a moment; the wink of the fire reflected in the depths made her heart twist with something she couldn’t define. “What is that gem?”
“A moonstone,” murmured Lady Yardley. “A common enough jewel, although I’ve never seen one with quite so much translucence.”
“Each of you will try it on. Like so.” Lady Chatterly slipped the large band easily over her hand and up her arm. “I know it looks rather big, but if you’re chosen, it will tighten to a snug fit.” She stared at the relic for a moment, then sighed in disappointment as it fell off her wrist. “Well, one can still hope.”
“What do you mean?” asked a rather matronly woman.
Lady Chatterly answered the question in a roundabout way. “He will come to you at midnight and disappear with the dawn. He won’t appear twice to the same woman, so there’s no use in keeping the relic longer.” Her gray eyes glittered as her voice lowered to a husky whisper. “He will make your every desire come true. And some that you didn’t even know you had.”
“Who?” demanded Lady Yardley.
“His name is Gareth Solimere and he wears the clothing of a knight of the Round Table… yes, as in King Arthur. He has been trapped in the relic for a long time.”
Questions spun around inside Millicent’s head. She could see her questions mirrored on the faces of the others, but Lady Chatterly held up her hand to forgo them. “Trust me, they are not important. Once you look into his brown eyes, run your fingers through his ebony hair, feel the touch of his lips upon yours…”
Giggles and gasps followed her words but Lady Chatterly seemed lost in rapturous memory. Millicent rolled her eyes in disgust. So that’s what all these women were in such a twitter about? A man? Her mother had taught her about men. Enough to know to stay away from them.
She fought the urge to stomp from the room.
One of the youngest girls—her cheeks a bright pink—had the temerity to say, “What did he do to you?”
“Aah. Shall I make my reputation even more notorious?” Lady Chatterly asked herself rather loudly.
“Is it possible?” countered Claire with a laugh.
“Certainly.” Those pale gray eyes sparkled in challenge and her feathers danced a jig on her head. “I thought I knew myself. I have been married, after all.”
The few women who had kept themselves apart from the circle around the table suddenly drew closer. The room had been fraught with tension since they entered. Now the walls fairly vibrated. Even Millicent couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward expectantly.
Lady Chatterly’s voice lowered to a mere whisper. “He knew exactly how to ignite my passion. He knew how naughty I’ve been…”
Her hand flew to her breast as her breath quickened. “He slowly removed my clothing piece by piece…”
A handful of the younger girls, and a few of the older, swooned.
“…and he spanked me soundly.”
Skirts flew up right and left as several of the ladies fainted. Millicent reflexively rose to catch someone but couldn’t decide whom and froze in indecision. Lady Yardley blinked at her in surprise. Millicent’s were-nature allowed her to move faster than an ordinary human, so it was probably just as well she had frozen before fully betraying her true nature. She gave Claire a weak smile and slowly sat back down.
“I stand corrected,” said Lady Yardley as she pulled smelling salts out of her reticule and handed them to another woman to administer to the fallen. “Your reputation is now even more notorious, Lady Chatterly.”
The matron who had spoken earlier gave an elegant snort, then quickly slipped off her gloves, pushed back the voluminous sleeves of her black gown, and held out her arm. Lady Chatterly gave her a knowing grin and slipped the band of silver over the woman’s knobby-knuckled hand up to her wrist. Then easily pulled it off again.
“Maybe next time,” murmured Lady Chatterly in sympathy before trying it on another woman. And then another.
Millicent’s heart started to pound and she felt a little faint while the lady drew closer as the relic failed to tighten around anyone’s wrist. Bloody corset. It didn’t allow one to breathe properly. Of course they would expect her to try it on.
Lady Chatterly suddenly stood next to her, tapped her slippered foot impatiently while Millicent carefully removed her gloves. The lady thrust the bracelet at her. The cold metal touched her fingers and Millicent suppressed a shudder. She had nothing to fear. It wouldn’t choose her… she had no use for any man. Besides, her immunity to magic meant it couldn’t cast a spell on her. Although hadn’t Lady Chatterly assured them that the bracelet, and the man trapped within, were as real as the chair she sat upon? Then she would be just as vulnerable as any of these other women.
But the last thing she would ever desire in her life would be a man. No, she was nothing like these other women.
When the metal warmed and tightened around her wrist, it took every ounce of willpower Millicent had to suppress a choking snarl. Magic might be making the bracelet shrink, but the metal felt wholly of this earth, and her immunity to magic would not help. She wanted the relic for the duke, but not this way! She tried to push the bracelet off, but it would no longer fit back over her hand.
“Ah, the country girl,” crowed Lady Chatterly. “Don’t look so alarmed, dear. You wanted to gain some sophistication from a trip to London, and now you shall have more than you could have ever dreamed.”
Millicent dug her fingers under the silver, trying to rip the thing off using the full strength of her were-self. Several of the women patted her shoulder in congratulations and then headed toward the door to the ballroom. Millicent turned and stared at Claire in horror.