“Then who?” demanded Millicent. “Who broke his curse?”
“She sounds like an owl,” muttered Harcourt.
Claire gave him an indignant glance and crossed the room to kneel next to Millicent, placing her gloved hands over Millicent’s own. “You did, dearest. No, do not look so surprised. I was there when it happened, although I did not realize the significance of the moment until the queen explained it all to me later. The curse lifted when Gareth found out that you had given up the relic to me. I think… I think it broke his heart, to realize you had betrayed your promise.”
If Harcourt had not been in the room, Millicent might have felt inclined to cry at Claire’s words. But she stiffened her spine, and the tears barely burned her eyes. “I did not fully realize…”
“Hush, he knows.” She frowned. “Or at least, he had enough faith in you to hope you still loved him. Afterwards, of course.”
“After?”
“After he recovered from his heart being broken. I daresay, I heard it… although the queen says it was the sound of the gemstone in the relic breaking.”
Several things suddenly made sense to Millicent. Her heart felt like a bird trapped in a cage, threatening to break free. “Then the bracelet did not tighten on my wrist because the curse had already been broken.”
“Merlin was a crafty old coot,” interjected Harcourt. “He didn’t damn Gareth to find his true love. In fact, Merlin made it harder for him as the relic had no design for the women it chose. The only thing the relic had been enchanted to sense was Gareth’s broken heart. The Master of the Hall of Mages thinks Merlin cared only that Gareth should earn his freedom by feeling betrayed… the same way Merlin had felt when your knight had broken his heart by dallying with his Lady Vivian.”
“Gareth has more than paid for that crime,” retorted Claire.
Harcourt nodded. “Merlin made sure of it.”
Millicent bowed her head, the silly hat tugging at the shaggy coiffure Ambrose had managed to twist up for her. “I must go to him.” Had Gareth felt this way, when she had rejected him? She could not bear thinking of him in such pain. She would not shy away from him this time. She would confess her mistake and demand his forgiveness, and if he did not forgive her… if she had broken his heart as badly as hers had once been broken… then she would heal it. As her knight had healed hers.
Claire rose. “He is not in London. I heard he left for his estate this morning.”
“Where?” Millicent would follow him to the ends of the earth. Her resolve to be with Gareth… to reassure him that she loved him… to take away any pain she had caused him, overrode her feeling of dread at being alone aboveground. Of traveling beneath the sun, living a life in light instead of darkness.
She might even come to like it.
She would, for Gareth’s sake.
“Are you sure you want to rush off?” asked Claire. “Perhaps you should give yourself some time to let this all sink in.”
“I have already taken up too much time,” growled Millicent. She felt her beast waking, begin to start pacing inside her. She wanted her mate. “If I had not been so afraid of loving him… I never would have hurt him like this.”
“I shall loan you one of my carriages.”
“No, Lady Yardley. I will travel much faster on… paws. I am already several hours behind him.”
Claire gaped. “Millicent. You cannot go galloping through London in your were-shape. It is simply not done.”
Harcourt’s belly groaned. “Egads, Claire, let the woman go. She knows how to keep to the shadows. My meal has been delayed long enough.”
“You are unconscionably practical.”
“Which is why you adore me.” The were-lion rose and strode over to a secretary, pulled a sheet of stationery from the top drawer, and began to draw out a map with a fountain pen. “Here, Millicent. Take this road out of London, then take the left branch here. After that… if you cross country, which I rather imagine you will, head northeast. Hobover House is in the district of Ipswitch, right here.”
Millicent rose and studied the finished map he held out to her. She had developed a good sense of direction, a necessity when living underground. She would find him.
Claire reached out and pulled Millicent into a hug. Millicent had never noticed her friend’s short stature before, for Claire’s vibrant personality did not allow for it, but her auburn coiffure barely reached Millicent’s chin.
“Oh, Millicent. You will be careful, won’t you? There are dangers on the road… and through the forest. And our world is so unfamiliar to you.”
“It is less dangerous than the Underground. You forget my true nature, dear friend.” And Millicent shifted to panther.
Claire stepped back, and Harcourt wrapped one comforting arm about her shoulders, and she leaned into his embrace.
Millicent found the sight of the two of them together most astonishing. Her thought must have reflected in her eyes, for Harcourt smirked at her, but oddly enough, not in an unkind way. She leaped onto the windowsill, and threw her friend one last glance over her shoulder.
“He will forgive you,” said Claire.
Millicent turned and vaulted out the window. She wished she could feel as confident as her friend.
Twenty-one
Gareth’s carriage finally cleared the miles of woodland surrounding Hobover House and the enormous edifice came into view. Rounded turrets of reddish stone reached for the sky. A long drive cut through a swath of green ground, broken by enormous yew trees with trunks so large it would take several men with outstretched arms to encompass them. Gareth suspected the branches sheltered more than a few tree nymphs, although he had yet to see one of the shy beings.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the arched stone doorway of the house and Gareth alighted from the coach before his man could pull out the steps. The butler managed to yank open the door before Gareth reached it though, and he shot the older servant a grin as he strode past him, straight for the ballroom. He noticed his new staff had been busy, for the marble tiled floors gleamed and the statues lining the hall lacked their previous cobwebs and coating of dust. Gareth had hired as many shape-shifters as he could, hoping their company would make Millicent feel more at home. Apparently they were grateful for the employment, and pleased that their new mistress would be one of their own kind, for they had set about their new tasks with enthusiasm. He had given the housekeeper full rein in setting the house to rights, and noticed vases of fresh flowers upon every table within the drawing rooms.
But he felt the most delight when he entered the old ballroom. The parquet floors of the spacious room had been polished and repaired, restoring the odd pattern of the blocks of wood. Gareth could not quite make it out, but he suspected the floor made up a larger picture… something to do with woodland and deer. The cavernous fireplace had been scrubbed clean, revealing a white sparkling stone beneath the soot, the mantel and sides carved with frolicking creatures that looked suspiciously like the one hobgoblin he had spied on his first visit to the place.
The branches and spices Lord Sussex had sent him had been carefully laid out next to the hearth.
Gareth could not recall instructing the servants to do so, and he had spoken of Nell only once within this house—with the queen, when she had pointed out the fireplace as the perfect place to build the nest.
The pile of branches crackled, releasing a scent similar to the sharp smell of pine, but with a spicy undertone Gareth could not identify. He did not know what sort of foreign tree could make such twisted branches, or create leaves tinged with silver. He could not imagine what sort of creature might have been living within them when they had been harvested…