A Lady Most Hexing

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sterling Reed was late.

Edwina Sheffield cursed under her breath as she examined her time piece, trying to ignore the hiss of air through the train’s whistle. A single minute remained until twelve and this was the last warning the train would give.

“I am going to murder that man, hide his body beneath an entire cartload of coal, and drive it to Cornwall myself, where I can bury it in a peat bog,” she growled, snapping the time piece shut.

“Edie, darling,” said a smooth, cultured voice behind her. “If you’re plotting murder this early in the morning, then you clearly haven’t had time to take your tea.”

“Jesus bloody—” She trapped the words behind her teeth as she spun to face her tormentor in a hiss of skirts.

And then she stopped as she came face-to-face with the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes upon.

It wasn’t fair.

Sterling strode along the St. Pancras station platform toward her, casually elegant in a travelling suit that had been personally tailored to fit the breadth of his broad shoulders.

No man alive ought to look that good in tweed.

A rakish hat covered the thick golden waves of his hair, but it did nothing to hide the shock of those canny blue eyes with their dangerously thick lashes.

She didn’t know what sort of deal Sterling had struck with a demon, but it had clearly cost him his soul. For the smile he laid upon her looked like it had been carved of marble by the skilled fingertips of Guillaume Geefs—if his depiction of Lucifer ever smiled.

Two weeks since she’d seen him last.

Two weeks since she’d suffered a lapse in reasoning and bloody well kissed him.

Two weeks since she’d resigned from his employ.

And none of it mattered, because the second she saw him, her heart started skipping beats again and her abdomen became a mess of heat and want and confusion.

“Jesus bloody…?” Sterling cocked a brow as he paused in front of her. “Is that any way to greet your employer?”

Time sped up. Sound snapped back into being. And the words finally came. “Employer?” It was like waving a red rag to a bull. “I do recall handing in my letter of resignation two weeks ago. You are no longer my employer, my lord. And as such you have no further claim upon such a title.”

“Ah, that was what that letter said.” He scratched at his chin. “I will admit there was some mishap with the envelope.”

“Mishap?”

“Yes.” A challenging blue stare locked upon her. “It ended up as kindling.”

He was not going to run roughshod over her will the way he did to everyone else he encountered.

“Considering you can light a fire with a snap of your fingers, I daresay you did read it,” she challenged, setting her hands on her hips.

“And perhaps you didn’t notice the fact I haven’t been in all week—perhaps I am simply so unnoticeable—but surely you noticed the piles of paperwork building up on your desk.

You are so fond of having your paperwork filed appropriately. ”

“I thought you were taking a week or two,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve been looking peaky of late. Especially after that mishap with the imps—”

“Mishap.” Her fingers flexed. Perhaps she wouldn’t need a coal cart.

Perhaps she could simply push him in front of the train.

“Mishap? How does someone tearing a rift between dimensions and henceforth unleashing a flood of imps within the house count as a mishap?” Her voice rose.

“I nearly died. You set the house on fire.”

“Edie….” Sterling rocked on his heels. “I was a trifle top-hammered and Balthazar Grantham assured me the spell was foolproof—”

“You summoned a pack of imps.”

“Yes,” he suddenly snapped, “I’m very well aware of that. It wasn’t quite what I had in mind at the time. But I will correct you on the misassumption that I set the fire. That was all you, my dear.”

Edwina shook her head.

She was a sorceress of the Order of the Dawn Star that served Britain’s queen, but while she’d served her apprenticeship and learned her lessons well, her talents ran more to divination—psychometry, to be precise—rather than something as epically flamboyant as pyrokinetics.

It was a fact, universally known, that when one ascribed to a particular talent—be it telepathy or telekinesis—they were often weaker in the other major field of sorcery.

She couldn’t have set the library on fire.

She wouldn’t have.

She might be able to light the grate on a cold night if she concentrated, but to launch such an assault? Doubtful.

“It’s not my natural talent,” she reminded him.

“You know who it does remind me of? A loud, flashy entrance? Explosions in the book stacks? Fireballs raining down upon both man and imp alike? An utterly gaudy display of strength and prowess….” Edwina tapped her finger against her lips.

“I can’t quite put my finger on it. But he was there that night too. ”

“Ha ha,” he replied. “I was flat on my back with an imp at my throat and another preparing to launch off the desk at me. You know what I recall, Edie?”

“Miss Sheffield,” she said pointedly.

Another smile. “I recall you screaming at me to look out, and then as the imp leaped toward me, you flung your hands out and a wave of fire washed over us all. You set my coat alight. My bloody breeches too. It’s taken me two weeks to regrow my eyelashes.”

“I did not.”

“Did too.” Sterling took a taunting step closer.

“If such an act came from me,” she ground out, “then it would have been an act of Expression.” It was the way all sorcerers first revealed their magic.

Uncontrolled acts of expressive magic, often driven by emotion and not reason.

Powerful—and dangerous. The very first thing a sorcerer learned in their apprenticeship was that giving in to such irrational bursts of power could be deadly.

“You would have to report me to the Order.”

“I’m not bloody reporting you to anyone,” he growled. “It’s alright to admit you were scared… Miss Sheffield. It’s alright to admit you were worried about me. You were trying to protect me.”

She drew back. Was that what he thought?

“I….”

She had been scared. And it flashed through her mind again: The imp baring sharp teeth and claws as it leapt for Sterling’s unprotected back as he tried to fling the one at his throat off him.

“Sterling!” she’d screamed.

And….

She couldn’t remember anything else. Only the aftermath.

“Edie, Edie, it’s alright.” Hands cupping her face.

Sterling becoming the whole and center of her vision, though it was a Sterling she’d never seen before.

One smeared with soot and bloodied in places.

And the look on his face— She didn’t think she’d ever seen him look worried before.

“Edie, you’re safe. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you. ”

And then she’d flung her arms around his neck and sobbed into his coat, and—

No.

No.

Some things were best left in the darkest recesses of her mind.

“But that’s not the reason you’re so upset, is it?

” There was a knowing look in his eyes. “That’s not the reason you handed in your resignation.

In the past three years you’ve been working for me, you’ve faced down Dead Men Walking; an incubus with a taste for flesh; and a set of gravediggers who were intent on summoning a demon, and yet, you’ve never flinched until now. ”

Surely, he wasn’t going to mention it….

Heat flamed through her cheeks, and Edwina tipped her chin up. “Don’t you dare.”

“Dare what?” That challenging eyebrow went up.

“I am done with you and this entire affair! I am done with mayhem,” she snapped, “and you simply striding into my library whenever you please and insisting I set off upon some madcap scheme. I have had it with dueling with imps! I have had it with running from black magic! And I am most certainly done with you!”

Sterling stepped closer, the faint hint of his cologne threading its way through her sinuses, and then her veins, weaving warm traces of—

No.

No.

She was done with this… foolish infatuation.

But she couldn’t help shivering as he leaned close enough to almost press his cheek against hers.

“Then why are you here?” he whispered in her ear, before he rocked back on his heels just enough for her to have space to breathe.

Tingles went all the way through her. Edwina forced herself to look up into his eyes.

She was absolutely not blushing. “I am here because the Prime of the Order of the Dawn Star has officially authorized me to investigate this mess in Bletsoe.” She couldn’t help flipping her lapel to show him the little pin that the prime sorceress had given her. “I am a venatori in my own right now.”

“Ah.” A hint of amusement flickered through his eyes. “I thought you were done with hunting the creatures who rule the night.”

“I didn’t say that,” she snapped. “One can hunt these things in a reasonable manner. There will even be time for tea and crumpets if I have my way.”

“Well.” He rocked back on his heels. “You’ve earned it. I think the Prime was impressed with the way you sent those imps back to hell with their tails between their legs.”

There was something about the way he said it…. “You knew?”

“You do realize the hunter’s guild has a journal? The names of any new venatori are listed quite prominently. The latest edition arrived on Thursday. Congratulations.”

Oh, well, that was alright then. For a second, she’d almost imagined that he’d had some hand in it.

“You’re my equal now,” he said, and she had to be imagining the challenge in his voice. “How about that?”

“Lead investigator,” she pointed out, because when she’d been called before the Prime herself this morning, Lady Rathbourne had made a point of saying that.

Embarrassment flared again. The shock of hearing who she’d be paired with for her first official case had been ringing in her ears, so she’d had to ask Lady Rathbourne to repeat herself.

The Prime.

She’d asked the Prime Sorceress to repeat herself.

But the truth remained: Edwina’s first officially sanctioned case for the order was to work hand-in-hand with Lord Sterling Reed.

“Really?” he drawled.

“I have the paperwork in my satchel—”

“Oh. I don’t doubt you do.” That secretive smile was back—as if he knew something she didn’t. “You are always prepared Miss Sheffield.” His gaze dipped to her skirts, and then back to her face once more. “I like the armor, Edie.”

“Armor?”

His voice roughened. “What else am I meant to call it?”

And there she was again, right back there in that moment when he’d held her in the wreckage of the library, while she gasped and shook in the wake of the imp’s attack.

“I’ve got you, Edie.” His rough hand stroked her hair as he held her. “I’ll never let anything harm you….”

She didn’t know what had come over her in that moment.

She’d looked up and there he was, staring at her with an intensity that threatened to set the library alight again.

And somehow…. She’d moved before she’d even thought the moment through. Simply lifted onto her toes and kissed him and—

“Apart from an abomination,” Sterling added, his words cutting right through the seething quagmire of emotions heating through her. “I have never understood your insistence upon hiding your feminine form behind acres of ugly fabric.”

Her choking memories died a swift death.

Edwina scowled. “It’s a very workmanlike material—especially when your employer is prone to setting things on fire.”

“It’s a lie.”

“What?”

“I have caught a glimpse or two of your stockings over the years.”

She gasped. “What does that have to do with—”

“Silk, Edwina,” he said in the kind of voice that stirred through her. “White silk with red ribbons. A lady who wears those kinds of undergarments is a lady who’s keeping secrets. She’s a lady who wears a circus tent of serge for a reason.”

A circus tent of— “I swear,” Edwina growled, “I cannot understand how you have ever managed to earn such a rakish reputation, because your skills at charming a woman are completely inept.”

He flashed her a smile. “And yet, here we are.”

“We are here because a dead woman woke up in the church vault and the sexton nearly had a bloody heart attack! We are here because the Prime wants to know if there is black magic involved. We are here—"

“Don’t be so bloody obtuse.” For the first time, a hint of frustration etched his tone. “I’m not talking about the case and you know—"

“Ma’am,” the conductor called. “Sir. Are you boarding the train?”

Edwina started. She’d almost forgotten about the train. Almost forgotten why she was here—and why she didn’t particularly want to be getting in that carriage with him.

Alone.

“Yes, yes, of course!”

She moved to snatch up her portmanteau, but Sterling beat her to it.

“After y….” For the first time, his grace slipped as he readjusted the weight of her bag. “What the bloody devil do you have in here?”

“Perhaps it’s the rest of the circus,” she snapped as she took her belongings from him, and leapt aboard the train.