Turned by Kessie Carroll Page A

untouchable by mortal men.
     
    Charlotte shot him a haughty smile, chin
uplifted. "Tell me of yourself, Mr. Preston. What are your
pursuits?"
     
    He scrambled for something to say. "I enjoy a
bit of gardening. And I'm a fair shot with a fowling-piece. But I'm
sure a lady has far more refined tastes."
     
    At their first meeting she had talked about
herself while he had sat in terrified silence. Certainly it was her
favorite topic. "Why yes," she said, smiling in a cold way that
reminded him of polished silver knives. "I spend my time among
people of society. The Lyedyn Duchesses invited me to join their
exclusive embroidery group. It's lovely to work among such
accomplished women."
     
    Her tone mocked him.
     
    His collar grew tighter with each of her
words. "Certainly, my lady. You shall have to educate me in such
things. I confess I have kept to myself these last few years." Why
did she make him so nervous?
     
    Charlotte arched a perfect eyebrow. "I had
heard you spent much time in the company of the Mage Guild. Are you
a magic worker?"
     
    Despite her condescension, he sensed real
interest behind the question. "Ah, no." He ran a finger along the
inside of his collar. "I have been studying alchemy and I grow many
of the necessary herbs for basic potions and remedies. But it is a
solitary pursuit, sad to say."
     
    "Alchemy." Charlotte's fingers drummed in her
lap. "Why dabble in such things if you have no magic?"
     
    "Because it's as close as I shall ever get,
my lady." He must not grow angry, not on a courting visit. Perhaps
it was merely the blasted collar. "I have misgivings about Allard's
werewolves, and I am seeking knowledge to combat his arts."
     
    She smiled a white, perfect smile. "The
werewolves are preferable to goblins overrunning the city. Everyone
knows this."
     
    "Yes, my lady. But a curse is a slippery
snake that tends to turn on the caster. It makes me nervous, is
all." Lovely, a woman schooled in political thought opposite his
own. Possibly she applauded the construction of the Grayton Wall,
too.
     
    "Excuse me, miss. I must speak to my
manservant in the hall." Bernard escaped the sitting room with the
speed of a ball fired from a cannon. Once he gained the safety of
the hall, he unbuttoned his collar and drew deep breaths.
     
    Dread and gloom settled over him. He was to
wed a woman who shared none of his interests and who already
despised him. Why must he be forced into this? No fortune was worth
the unhappiness that lay before him.
     
    His aunt stepped into the hall and scowled at
him. "Bernard, you return to her at once."
     
    "Yes, ma'am," he said. Then he dropped his
voice to a whisper. "Of all the women in Grayton, why must you
choose her?"
     
    His aunt leaned close, eyes burning. "She is
the third richest woman in the country, and she is the only one
near your age. Be grateful she is not a dowager!"
     
    "Perhaps I would have had more in common with
an older woman," he retorted.
     
    Then he lifted his head, buttoned his collar,
and returned to his visit with his future wife.
     
    ***
     
    "He was pleasant enough, I suppose," said
Charlotte. It was the following day, and she was drinking tea with
her mother, Mrs. Brighton. The afternoon sun gilded the curtains
with light, highlighting dust motes in the air.
     
    "Did he seem interested in you?" asked her
mother.
     
    Charlotte considered. "He was quite nervous.
I had the impression he has not conversed with many women. Study
seems his main preference."
     
    Mrs. Brighton gazed out the window and sipped
her tea. "He may not be the most fascinating man, but such a match
will provide you with immense wealth!"
     
    But not love. Charlotte kept that thought to
herself. She could, perhaps, bring herself to love the small,
rotund man and his shining pate. But would he ever return her
affection? Or would he spend the years oblivious to her presence,
buried in his studies?
     
    "Mother, they say that love is possible in
arranged marriages,