Bewitched by His Kiss (May Day Mischief) Read Free Page B

it.
    But that was for later. Right now, she had to regain her perfect composure. She’d worked hard at it over the past three years because at all costs she had to conceal the turmoil inside. To hide and eventually overcome the restlessness that made life intolerable at times.
    The only occupation that helped was the research. In that one activity, she became entirely engrossed. She had to pretend she was doing it in memory of her father, compiling his folktales according to his deathbed wish. Her father had never expressed any such desire, but he would approve of her true goal, to expose the dangers of superstition. He’d put up with his wife’s foolishness because he loved her, but he couldn’t have predicted that her belief in fairies would result in insanity after his death.
    Luckily, Lucasta’s Uncle John Barnes believed and respected the deathbed story. She and Peony were distant cousins on her mother’s side. He had allowed her to take up residence at Whistleby because her father had corresponded with Peony’s about the legends there, not because he considered her capable of researching and writing anything useful on her own. To hell with him. She would soon publish a massive volume on folklore, of which she would be justly proud.
    More important, she would prove once and for all that magic wasn’t real. If she could save someone else’s mother from going mad, or another girl like Peony from taking such risks, all that work would be worthwhile.
    She took off her shoes, tiptoed down the passageway and tapped on the door of Peony’s bedchamber. Peony unlocked it and let her in. Naked, pink with cold and trying to divest herself of the bits of grass sticking to her everywhere, she was obviously miserable, but that didn’t stop her from laughing at Lucasta’s bedraggled appearance. “Whatever happened to you? All that mud! Your gown is ruined.”
    Thanks to Lord Elderwood’s intolerable ability to fluster Lucasta, she didn’t have a story ready. On the other hand, she could think quickly and clearly and improvise well. She’d cultivated these qualities and had even managed something with that impossible Elderwood distracting her. It had made no sense, of course—she’d mixed traditions in her haste to say something, anything.
    “A stray bull,” Lucasta said now, “and it’s all your fault. I saw you were gone and went out to check on you, but the horrid creature took a fancy to me. I’m lucky I arrived home intact.” So there , you vile animal . That was how she thought of Elderwood—as a rampaging beast.
    Damn the man. Lucasta had spent years attaining perfect self-control, and in only a few minutes he’d completely overset her. He must believe her a brainless fool to come up with such a nonsensical excuse for this morning and expect him to believe it.
    Never again. She wouldn’t give him the opportunity to show his disdain, because she wouldn’t discuss folklore with him. If she was forced to talk to him during his visit, she would discuss the weather. Thank God Alexis would be here. He was her oldest and dearest friend.
    And, she thought fiercely, she wouldn’t harm a hair on his head, even if she did marry him. Not that she intended to—their engagement was one of mutual convenience, to be sundered next year when Lucasta turned twenty-five and gained control of her fortune. Poor Alexis would once again be subject to his mother’s matchmaking attempts, but he’d enjoyed a few years without them—years during which Lucasta had been at liberty to work on her research. Oh, and free of the threat of being forced by her uncle to marry Lord Elderwood—not that she’d mentioned that little fact to Alexis. He was an excellent friend, but some things he wouldn’t understand.
    Lucasta shed her gown, wet a cloth and wrung it out, and set to washing her cousin before one of the maids caught them and tattled. “We can say the mud and grass were stuck on me. I shall explain that I went out to check