Potent Charms by Peggy Waide

again."
    "I assume you have a particular reason for that edict?"
    "He is a cursed man who sold his very soul to the devil.
His past is absolutely scandalous, which forces him to a life of isolation. Even then, distance cannot end the tales of
his wickedness."

    "Aunt Hildegard, whatever are you talking about?"
    "Bad blood runs in his veins, noble or not. Immoral. He
dallies where he should not. He collects young boys for
God knows what. The Badrick line is cursed and evil, that
young man as bad as his relatives before him. He murdered
his first wife when she failed to bear a daughter. His second wife fled for her life only to be hunted like an animal
and killed. Those are only two instances, mind you. There
are many others, but I will not sully my daughter's ears by
repeating them."
    "Goodness gracious, you don't believe any of that nonsense, do you?"
    "That man will ruin you, and my family as well." The
rigid set of Hildegard's body meant she believed every
slanderous word she spoke. "Stay away from him. Do I
make myself clear?"
    Land sakes. Phoebe wanted nothing more than to stand
her ground, but how on earth could she argue in the man's
favor when she knew so little herself? Imagine. Murder?
Wickedness? Curses? Swallowing her arguments along
with the urge to champion the man, Phoebe bowed her
head. Tomorrow was soon enough to begin her exploration
into the past of Stephen Lambert, Duke of Badrick.

     

Sunbeams danced amid the leaves on the trees lining Park
Lane as the carriage headed south toward the River
Thames. Thankful to be outdoors and away from her aunt,
Phoebe relaxed against the soft burgundy leather seat. For
two days, she had suffered her aunt's relentless attacks on
Lord Badrick's character and an onslaught of male visitors
that rivaled the British siege of New Orleans. She deserved
this little adventure. Besides, there were questions she
planned to have answered before the day was through. But
she knew the real cause of her excitement was the fact that
she would see Stephen. She tipped her head to the sky,
sighing audibly.
    "You look as though you possess the world," said Elizabeth.
    Lost in her haze of contentment, Phoebe said, "I declare,
it is absolutely glorious to be free of that woman for the
afternoon." She immediately realized she'd spoken her
thoughts out loud. Her dislike for Hildegard was one thing, but to openly express her opinion of her family was terribly
irresponsible, especially having just met Elizabeth. "Not
Aunt Hildegard.. .1 mean..." She sat up straighter, as if
the action might make her words more believable. "She
tries the patience of a saint, but..."

    Elizabeth's gentle laughter filled the carriage. Her face,
surrounded by a large pink bow attached to her straw hat,
glowed with kindness. "Do not fret so. Your aunt is not the
most accommodating woman."
    "True, but she is family and she is providing a place for
me to stay. I should feel grateful."
    "As does an abused horse when fed." Elizabeth's whitegloved hand swiftly covered her mouth. She shrugged her
shoulders, removed her hand and said, "There I go. Let us
drop the topic of your aunt altogether."
    More than willing to forget her aunt's unpleasantness
and enjoy the afternoon, Phoebe nodded as their carriage
turned toward St. James Park, joining a sea of extravagant
curricles and ordinary wagons. Electricity filled the air as
people waved and laughed. Some silly fools even
attempted to race one another in the crowd. Phoebe felt a
brewing exhilaration all the way down to her toes. "My
goodness, is everyone going to the race?"
    "To be sure, but we're perfectly safe. Stephen and Winston rode ahead to secure us a spot. We'll join them soon
enough."
    "It's absolutely thrilling. It reminds me of holidays back
home, which were really quite wonderful. There were picnics, horse and boating races, and dances. One of my
daddy's favorites was the watermelon-eating contest."
Knowing she