The Eternal Spell (The Pharaoh’s Promise)

Chapter One

1824, London, England.

Callum knocked back the rest of his wine, bored with the dancing. Never the most coordinated when it came to a waltz, he’d already declined several offers using the excuse of an ongoing, and difficult-to-cure knee injury that somehow only ever bothered him when in close proximity to a dancefloor.

He didn’t have the option to escape. His father had told him in no uncertain terms that he was to be seen in the right circles in London. There were people who graced the Ton who Callum getting to know would help bolster their family’s reputation and would lead to a suitable matrimonial match, although given his father’s business ventures, potential investors were more sought-after.

Callum was happy enough, his older brother had done the decent thing and provided an heir so there was no pressure on that front and Callum had no desire for a wife. But he didn’t object to an evening drinking the best wine and sampling the work of the Duke of Richmond’s chef, whose skills were sublime. He’d not been to Wexford Place before, but it was a beautiful home, and no expense had been spared to decorate it in the current fashion to show the guests how rich its owners were.

He excused himself from the conversation regarding a new play he had no interest in, no matter how enthusiastic the reviews, and decided to seek entertainment at the card tables. With his yearly allowance from his father on top of the wages he earned from the hours he dedicated to the family business, he could afford to lose, but he was a reasonable player and he won more often than not. He fancied his chances this evening, and was one of the more sober of the attendees, even at this stage of the proceedings, and he had a feeling that the night was his for the taking.

There were several games in play as he entered a state room towards the rear of the house, replacing a pale-faced wisp of a man whose coin purse was empty but who appeared full to the gills with port. This was a far more enjoyable way to spend the evening, and he was amassing quite a stash of winnings when two new players joined the table. He didn’t recognise them, but realised quickly they were much more skilled than himself.

The young woman across from him, Lady Emma Thyme, Countess of Malvern, threw up her hands at her cards and left her seat, muttering under her breath about having to tell her husband. Her seat was taken by a man Callum thought he might know but couldn’t quite place. Although with his lithe build, dark hair and blue eyes, he would cause hearts and fans to flutter.

However, it soon became apparent everyone else knew him. “Dominic,” called an older man in his fifties, “wonderful of you to join us. Your father has put on quite the event.”

Dominic Fairweather, the youngest son of the Duke of Richmond. So Callum did know of him, but they hadn’t met, just attended some of the same social events. He was a man known about the Ton for his academic pursuits being almost as fervent as his quest for enjoying everything his father’s wealth could provide. He was the epitome of what a gentleman should be and he got whatever he wanted due to his mix of charm, wealth and connections.

Dominic was also a very good card player.

Callum was several hands in, his luck had abandoned him, and he expected the next would be his last until he picked up his cards. He stared at the perfect assortment of tricks and tried to keep his expression neutral. In all his years of playing, he’d never had such a marvellous hand.

One by one his opponents began to throw their cards into the centre of the table in defeat and he was left with his final adversary, Dominic. The stakes were high and he only had so much left in his coin purse, but Callum was convinced he was on to a winner. He needed to keep his nerve.

Since he’d never played against Dominic before, unlike most of the others around the table, Callum didn’t have additional knowledge of his peculiar quirks to judge if Dominic was bluffing. Over the few rounds they’d played, he’d picked up no discernible tics, so he would need to trust his instincts.

Callum raised his stake. Dominic’s left eyelid flickered but Callum couldn’t tell if that was capitulation or congratulation. Then a stack of coins was added to the pot. Callum bid again.

Dominic huffed. “I don’t have any more money with me. Would you take an IOU?”

Dominic’s father might be a man of means, but Callum had met enough young gentlemen to know sons weren’t the ones with the money and were happy enough to disappear without paying. “No disrespect, Lord Fairweather, but I’ve not met you before this evening, so I’m loath to accept a bit of paper which might turn out to be worthless.”

He’d half expected Dominic to snarl back but instead he reached into his topcoat’s pocket and withdrew a handkerchief and unfolded it to reveal a small oblong stone, maybe a couple of inches long that looked like a carved human figure. “I can’t blame you for not trusting a stranger, but I can leave this in your possession until we arrange for payment—if you win.”

From across the table it didn’t appear to be anything special, an old stone with some odd markings, and not worth the coins Dominic needed to match Callum’s bid. “What is it?”

“It’s an ushabti.”

“Never heard of one.”

Dominic smiled, he was an attractive man, and if they hadn’t had an audience Callum might have been open to offering a more private way for Dominic to work off his debt. “It’s an Ancient Egyptian burial token in the shape of a miniature man, they accompany the deceased to the afterlife.”

“It doesn’t strike me to be the sort of fashion accessory you’d bring to a ball.”

Dominic laughed. “I had it with me to show a friend.”

Dominic held it up so Callum got a better view and it looked a bit like a tiny doll, although like nothing his sister might have played with. “I’m sure they were thrilled to see it.”

“They were,” Dominic said. “I’ve travelled overseas several times, and in recent months I joined my friend who is an archaeologist working on the excavation of a newly discovered tomb of a pharaoh. He allowed me to keep a few trinkets.”

Callum wasn’t convinced. “While I’m sure the seekers of antiquity are intrigued, a bit of old death pottery is not really what I’d call a stand-in for seven shillings.”

“Since I don’t know you, I can only assume your limited education is the reason behind your lack of understanding. Therefore, I don’t blame you for not knowing that this piece is of great historical significance. But more importantly to you, it means a great deal to me, so since I offer it as a promise to repay you, I hope you will accept it in good faith, as I would not abandon it. Its economic value is irrelevant.”

Dominic’s tone was matter-of-fact, with no air of bile or snipe but Callum couldn’t help but bristle at his words. He knew there was etiquette at play here and he was being reminded that there was more to someone’s standing in the Ton than how much money they had. His own lack of title would mean he would be at a disadvantage to even the poorest noble. “Then aren’t you concerned to let such an important piece go into the possession of a stranger, especially an ill-educated buffoon such as me?”

Dominic raised an eyebrow. “I apologise for doubting your intelligence. But do tell me, who you are so that you will no longer be a stranger.”

He’d not expected an apology and thought there was no point in being churlish. “Callum Gething.”

“Oh.” Dominic’s demeanour changed in a heartbeat.

His name was well-known, or at least his family’s was, and Callum had been working alongside his wealthy industrialist father for some years, gaining his own reputation as having an impressive head for business. “I daresay I can see myself accepting your bit of pot.”

“Ushabti,” Dominic corrected him.

“Indeed. It must have been a special friend for it to hold such importance.”

The connotation was clear, and Dominic laughed. “I hold all my friendships dear, it is a shame that you don’t appear to have the same opportunity.”

Was that an invitation? He had taken both male and female lovers in the past, although with men they’d been fleeting engagements in dark corners, and Dominic was a beautiful man. “Perhaps I would welcome it.”

Dominic proffered the ushabti again. “Then take this, as a sign you are capable of trusting new people. I promise, if you win, the money I owe will be back in your hands in the morning.”

It would cost him nothing to take the ushabti, and maybe gain a new and well-connected friend. “Very well. I’m at my family property in Bohemia.”

“Then we are near enough neighbours.”

He reached out and took the ushabti. A ripple like warm honey flowed over his skin, the room spun, and he must have drunk far more than he’d realised. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision as faces swam before his eyes and he was hit by an overpowering scent of lotus blossom.

“Mr Gething, are you all right?”

Callum stared upwards. He appeared to be lying on his back, surrounded by several concerned onlookers, the ushabti still clutched in his hand. “What happened?” he asked.

Dominic was at his side, helping him sit up, a supporting hand on his shoulder. “You suddenly swayed in your chair and slid sideways to the floor.”

Was he the only one to have experienced the strange sensation or smelled the distinct floral fragrance? “Didn’t you feel it?” he asked Dominic.

“Feel what?”

“When I took hold of the stone… it was warm… I…” He had trouble finding his words, the description just beyond his vocabulary.

“No.” There was something about the way Dominic replied that made Callum think he was not telling the whole truth. “But perhaps it is time for you to retire. I forfeit my hand, and will make good on my debt in the morning.”

Callum was helped to his feet. Still light-headed, he swayed and he sat to stop himself from falling again. He heard someone say they would have his coach brought around and turned to ask Dominic if he was sure he’d been unaffected, but he was nowhere to be seen.