Must Be Magic Read Online Free PDF Page B

put her hair up again for visitors. She’d invited several of her younger sisters and cousins to stay, but that wasn’t one of her family’s coaches.
    She crossed to the study door to listen as the butler greeted her unexpected guest. She heard no feminine laughter, only a single male monotone. One of her suitors, then, hoping to beat the competition. Fie on him.
    If that brat of a nephew of her husband’s had some idea that she would marry and thus give up this land as stipulated in her husband’s will, he had another lesson or two to learn. She intended to wear widow’s weeds into eternity.
    She hurried up the back stairs to her chamber and rang for her maid. “Who has arrived?” she demanded as soon as the maid entered.
    â€œLord John Albemarle, milady.” She sounded scandalized, as well she should be. It was highly improper for a gentleman to call without a family member in attendance.
    â€œLord John, the presumptuous twit.” Leila glared at her reflection as the maid brushed off her black gown and pinned up her hair again. She hated black, hated powder, hated the trappings of this woman she’d become to suit her husband. But she wore the guise for good reason. It gave her the authority she needed to wield her wealth and assets, and the approval of society required to do so.
    â€œHe is most handsome, my lady,” the maid whispered.
    â€œAnd he’s gambled away this quarter’s allowance,” Leila replied in irritation, well knowing the company the gentleman kept. She hoped her nephew avoided the gaming tables that Lord John frequented.
    â€œAhh, but a gentleman like that could be très amusing. And what pretty children he would give you.”
    Leila ignored the swift shaft of pain to her heart and, feigning lightness, replied, “Oh, I’m much too busy for children.”
    She allowed Marie to pin her hair beneath the black lace cap. Lord John was the spoiled younger son of a nobleman and would not leave without a personal reprimand. His kind always thought their charms irresistible.
    Brushing away her maid’s offer of earbobs and necklace to match her rings, Leila descended the front stairs without hurry. She’d performed the role of society beauty for so many years, she could do it in her sleep.
    She’d disdained panniers for this encounter and merely brushed her petticoats aside as she entered the guest parlor. Lord John leaped to his feet, made an elegant bow, and offered his gloved hand.
    â€œMy lady, London has been forlorn without you.”
    â€œFiddle-faddle. What are you doing here, sir?” She removed her hand from his. He smelled of horses and gaming tables, odors she found particularly repugnant at the moment. She produced a handkerchief to ward off the scent. “Did my nephew not tell you I have tired of the city and wish to rusticate a while?”
    â€œI could not bear the thought of another evening without your presence. The lure of the countryside, and you, drew me onward.”
    So, the young viscount had not given him the message. The little brat. He was up to his childish pranks already. She would never be rid of these encroaching mushrooms. “I am sorry you have come so far without reason,” she said. “My sisters have not arrived to entertain you. But I understand Bath is lively. Perhaps you could seek lodging there.”
    â€œDo not send me away so soon,” he pleaded. “I will be all that is circumspect until your family arrives. Let us take time to know each other better.”
    Marie was right—he was a handsome man. Beneath his elegant wig, Lord John revealed a high, intelligent forehead, eyes of pleasing bronze, and curved lips one could contemplate with pleasure. She had dallied an evening or two tasting those lips, but they had not inspired her to more. In fact, his fawning courtship had shown her the shallowness of the seductive powers she’d wielded these last