Whisper of Magic by Patricia Rice

finally gaining sufficient control of her tongue to speak.
    “My uncle wears them. I wanted one. Every bachelor I know
covets them, but his prices are beyond our means. You could set up your own
shop and make a fortune,” he replied curtly, placing her hand on his arm and
striding down the street.
    “We’ve considered it,” she admitted, finally opening up in
the astonishment of knowing her work was valued. “We had ordered fine linen for
delivery to Jamaica so we might teach some of our people to sew as Nana does.
We thought we could set up a shop on the island where they could sell the
shirts to other planters. But after Papa died . . .” She fought
to keep the grief from her voice for fear she would make everyone within
hearing weep. “We didn’t pay attention to the return cargo manifests. The ship
sailed without the linen, so we had it sent here.”
    “Another triumph over the estate executors,” he said in
approval.
    Approval . He
wasn’t about to scold her for ruining the family reputation by engaging in
mercenary commerce! Or tell her she was ruining her siblings’ chances of making
their way in society. Celeste didn’t know how to respond.
    “The executors may have tied up your bank accounts,” Lord
Erran continued, “but they cannot lay hands on what’s in your possession. It
must be driving them mad, although I suppose the solicitors have little inkling
about linen shipments.”
    Celeste allowed herself to relax into a small smile. “Now
that I understand what type of man the earl is, I am not sorry that we’ve
stolen from the estate.”
    “I should think not. It’s pure genius. But from now on,
you’ll send a footman to the tailor. Lady Azenor will be sending two over
today, along with a butler, I hope.” He stopped at the back gate and bowed over
her hand. “I will leave you here. I’ll be visiting the city today, and we’ll
see what comes of it. I’ll try to be back in time to introduce my Cousin Zack,
who will be overseeing the repairs.”
    How did he do that? She wanted to box his ears all over again for taking charge of her entire
life . . . and hug him for calling her a genius and sending her
footmen and looking after her family. While she was still feeling the glow of
flattery, she placed a hand on his arm to prevent his departure. “Tell me about
your voice. I have never met another who possessed such a gift.”
    He made a noise deep in this throat and glanced up and down
the mews, but it was early, and no one lingered. Looking uncomfortable, he
clenched his gloved fingers. “The first time I used it was shock enough. I’d
rather not discuss last night. It’s not the act of a gentleman to use a weird
aberration to influence others.”
    “It’s the act of a lady?” she asked with sarcasm. “Am I
beneath you now?”
    “That’s different,” he argued. “Women have no other defense.
I should be able to use my fists and weapons and logic without resorting to
mumbo-jumbo.”
    If she said what she thought now, she would inflict harm.
She didn’t wish to hurt a man who had offered his aid. Biting her tongue, she
merely made a polite curtsy and allowed him to go.
    How did one argue with a force of nature who did not respond
to even her most convincing voice?
    Sadly realizing a plain beanpole like herself could never
make a man like Lord Erran listen to her when he was appalled by her one gift,
she trailed back to her sewing. She would simply try to be grateful that he was
condescending enough to notice their plight.

Nine
    Wearing his best black business coat, Erran rode back from
the city in an ill temper. One of the less pecuniary reasons he had gone into
law was that he’d admired the way the rules of law worked in the same way as
the rules of physics—cause and consequence.
    The Court of Chancery, on the other hand, followed no rhyme
or reason much less anything resembling rules .
The equity courts were so overburdened that only corruption produced results,
and