"But he extracted a price from you," Ranulph said flatly. "It is ever the way of mortals to extract treasure from the Fair Folk when they have us in their power."

She flashed a smile in the darkness, s.h.i.+mmering again. "Aye, he asked a price, but not for himself. Merely to preserve his beloved nephew from death in battle, then find the boy a good mate. 'Twas not a price I mind paying."

"You were fortunate."

"I merely followed destiny's thread." She swept a perfect English curtsy. "Good night, my lord. I intend to stay in London for a time, so we shall meet again."

He bowed, then vanished into the shadows of the duke's garden.

Kamana stood and watched him leave, her inner vision studying the silver thread of his destiny.

Chapter Four.

Lady Wheaton at her side, Leah entered the Duke of Candover's ballroom with the graceful confidence that came to her naturally now. She had recovered from her encounter with the Duke of Hardcastle, and never let herself be caught alone by any of her other admirers. She had also improved her flirting, which made it easier to control the men who flocked around her. Flirting was a game, enjoyable in itself and also good at keeping people at precisely the distance one wanted them.

Lady Wheaton murmured, "Brace yourself, my dear, you've been seen."

Already men were flocking toward them. Most Leah knew, though a few were strangers drawn like moths to the flame. Several of them immediately demanded introductions from Lady Wheaton. Lord Wye planted himself in front of Leah and bowed. "You are in exceptionally fine looks tonight, Miss Marlowe."

"Thank you," she said with a friendly smile. She had already turned down three proposals from Lord Wye, but he had not given up yet.

Lord Jeffers intoned, "She walks in beauty, like a swallow's flight." He hesitated. "That's the first line of my new poem, but I'm not sure I've got the right phrase yet."

Leah touched his hand. "I'm sure you will," she said warmly. Then she turned so Lady Wheaton could make introductions. In the last weeks Leah had mastered easy social intercourse. In fact, she'd learned that beauty made almost all things easy.

Yet she was no closer to finding someone to love. The most attractive men she had met were those who were happily married, like her newly wed host, the Duke of Candover. Wanting nothing from her, such men were relaxed and charming companions.

At every social function she attended, she looked for the man who had rescued her from the Duke of Hardcastle, but without success. Instead of a guest, might he have been a servant, perhaps a gardener? She wanted to kick herself for running away in embarra.s.sment that night instead of making his acquaintance. Ah, well, he was probably married and unavailable.

Leah had just returned from waltzing with a portly baronet when Lady Wheaton murmured behind the cover of an opened fan, "Captain Duncan Townley has just arrived. He doesn't go out socially very much, so he's the only one of my eligibles that you haven't met." She tapped her lips with the fan reflectively. "Since no one else has taken your fancy, perhaps he will. Half the women in London dote on him. A hero of Waterloo, you know, and heir to a viscount."

Leah glanced toward the door, then caught her breath involuntarily. The man who had just entered was stunning, the epitome of the bold, das.h.i.+ng hero who would make any woman's knees melt. Though not exceptionally tall, his lithe, broad-shouldered form radiated intense virility. A lock of dark wavy hair fell over his forehead as he surveyed the ballroom with hooded eyes. Leah tried to estimate his age. Not old, though, certainly under thirty. Awed, she whispered, "He's magnificent."

For an instant, she thought that he had noticed her. Then her view was blocked by women crowding forward to see him. She understood perfectly. In fact, she had to suppress a mad desire to walk up to Duncan Townley, link her arms around his neck, and announce that she was his destiny.

Such foolishness! Or was it? There was magic in her life now. Could Ranulph have sent her to London to meet Duncan Townley? The faery lord had said that she could command the love of heroes if she wished.

Smiling at her protegee's reaction, Lady Wheaton said, "Shall I introduce you?"

"Not yet. I must go to the ladies' retiring room and fix my hair." More nervous than she had been since the night of her presentation, Leah made her excuses to her circle of admirers and left. But instead of returning to the ballroom after checking her appearance, she detoured to the music room, which was blessedly empty.

She dropped onto the bench in front of the pianoforte and forced herself to breathe slowly. She must be calm when her G.o.dmother introduced her to Duncan Townley. With a man like that, who could have any woman, she would need every iota of her beauty, and charm as well. Nor could she appear too eager. She'd learned enough of men in the last weeks to know that many were captivated by a woman who seemed unattainable.

Her gaze went to the keyboard of the pianoforte. Unable to resist it, she stripped off her gloves and began to play, keeping the sound soft so that it would be inaudible in the ballroom. Mozart soothed her, reminding her of who she really was. Some days she feared that she was in danger of losing herself.

By the end of her first piece, she was so caught up in the music that she went immediately into Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata." The knot of tension that had been part of her since coming to London dissolved. Eyes closed, she played by touch, gently rocking back and forth as her hands coaxed the divine melodies from the instrument.

At the end she sighed with happiness, head bowed as her hands stilled on the keyboard. Then the sound of clapping hands startled her from her reverie.

Her lids snapped open. To her shock, Duncan Townley was standing in the doorway applauding. Their gazes met for a charged moment. In his eyes she saw the same kind of intense interest that she felt for him.

He entered the music room with a pantherlike smoothness that riveted her attention. "So this is where you've been hiding, fair lady," he said in a voice like deep, rich chocolate. "I saw you across the ballroom earlier, but you vanished before I could find you. I've been looking ever since." He halted beside the pianoforte. "You play extraordinarily well."

Leah's heart began to beat in triple time. The voice, the height and build-this was the man who had rescued her from the Duke of Hardcastle. "Thank you," she said, amazed at how steady her voice sounded. "You're Duncan Townley, and I am Leah Marlowe. Since my G.o.dmother intended to introduce us, we can now say that the formalities have been duly performed."

As soon as she spoke, his brows drew together in puzzlement. He must find her voice familiar also. How foolish of her to think that it would be possible to pretend their first meeting had never happened. She continued, "Besides, we have already met, in the garden of Hardcastle House. I am very much in your debt, Captain Townley."

"So it was you," he exclaimed. "With your voice like singing bells." His gaze was almost fierce in its intensity. "Hardcastle's behavior was despicable-but I understand better now why he forgot himself as he did."

Leah blushed, and wished that she hadn't. With this man, she cared about the impression she made. Cared desperately. He was glorious, the most attractive male creature she'd ever seen, except for Lord Ranulph, who was too alien to affect her heart.

Dear G.o.d, Duncan Townley couldn't be faery, could he? Her gaze shot up as she looked to see if his eyes were the same emerald green that showed in her own mirror. She exhaled with relief when she saw that they were a rare and striking transparent gold. Not green, thank heaven.

She must say something before he decided that she was an idiot. Casting about for a topic of conversation, she said, "My G.o.dmother says you are a hero of Waterloo."

Wrong topic. His golden eyes darkened. "I simply did my duty. There were many heroes that day, and too many of them are now dead."

The tan skin tightened over his face, revealing the fine line of a newly healed scar over his sculptured cheekbone. She guessed that it had been made by the slice of a saber. He might have been killed or blinded, but instead, the scar enhanced the rugged masculinity of his appearance.

The thought of him being wounded brought the reality of war to her as newspaper stories never had. On impulse, she stood and lightly touched the scar. Since her gloves were still off, there was an intimate contact of skin to skin. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "It must be bitter to lose so many of your friends, and then be acclaimed when they have been forgotten."

The warmth returned to his eyes. With utter simplicity, he turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand. "Thank you for understanding."

The touch of his lips sent fire s.h.i.+vering through her, warming deep places that she had not known existed. This was what she had longed for, she realized dazedly. The first tentative recognition between two souls that, G.o.d willing, would lead to love.

Without haste she lowered her hand. "I should return to the ballroom. My G.o.dmother would not be happy to learn that I was alone with a man." She made a face. "You know what happened the last time."

His brows arched. "Do you think I am like the Duke of Hardcastle?"

She considered flirting to keep him at a distance, but decided that it was already too late for that. "No. You are unlike anyone I have ever met."

For a moment, there was an expression that seemed almost like pain in his golden eyes. Then he smiled. "You're right that it is time to return to the ballroom. The next dance is a waltz, and you will dance it with me."

The thought of being held in his arms sent a delicious s.h.i.+ver through her, but she shook her head regretfully. "I'm sorry, this waltz is spoken for." She lifted her fan from the pianoforte and studied the sticks, where she had written the names of her partners. "Sir Amos Rowley, I believe."

"What a pity that you lost your fan." Duncan plucked the fragile object from her hand, then folded it neatly and tucked it inside his coat. "I shall gallantly volunteer to see that you are not forced to sit out this dance."

Her mouth curved. "I shall miss that fan," she said as she drew on her gloves again. "It was a gift from my G.o.dmother."

"I foresee that I will miraculously find it later." He placed her hand on his arm. "Naturally I must call on you tomorrow to return your fan. In grat.i.tude, you will grant me a drive in the park."

She laughed buoyantly, loving the feeling of being swept along by the force of his interest. Why was it that behavior that might irritate her in another man simply made him more attractive? She set the thought aside for another day. What mattered now was this moment, and the excitement that bubbled through her veins like champagne.

Leah did not have a chance to speak with her G.o.dmother until they were in the carriage on the way home. Lady Wheaton started the conversation by saying, "You're bouncing like a kitten, child. I gather this is about Duncan Townley, since you shamelessly partnered him for two dances in a row."

"Am I that transparent?" Leah said with a laugh.

"It's one of your charms," her G.o.dmother said gently. "I'm continually amazed that a girl with your beauty is as direct and unaffected as you."

Leah's mouth twisted ruefully in the darkness. She was not sure that she deserved such a compliment, just as she felt that tributes to her beauty should go not to her but to the faery whose spell had created her appearance. But she could not say that to her G.o.dmother. "Captain Townley is a most attractive man," she said truthfully. "Tell me about him. I found that he has no wish to discuss his heroic deeds."

"Duncan is the nephew and heir of an old beau of mine, Viscount Townley," Lady Wheaton replied. "Though he was plain Will Townley then. We were quite infatuated for a time, but I wished to marry and he felt unready for such a commitment. So I accepted Wheaton, and Will went off to India. He was a great success there, I hear."

Wondering at the note she heard in her G.o.dmother's voice, Leah asked, "Are you still in love with Lord Townley, Aunt Andrea?"

"Nonsense," Lady Wheaton said briskly. "Wheaton was the most doting of husbands. I'm very attached to my stepchildren, and I have a comfortable income and the use of Wheaton House for the rest of my life. Altogether it was a most satisfactory marriage." Her voice softened. "Still, I do have fond memories of Will. I hear that he's recently returned from India, so I expect that eventually we'll see each other at some ball and laugh at just how young we once were."

To Leah, it seemed that perhaps her G.o.dmother protested a bit too much, but she did not pursue the point. "Have you known Duncan long?"

"Since his christening. His parents lived not far from us in the country."

Leah leaned forward in her seat eagerly. "What was he like?"

Lady Wheaton hesitated. "For all that he's so handsome and das.h.i.+ng, the word that comes to mind is-sweet. He was the most agreeable boy. Intelligent-he always had a book. Kind. Reliable. A little shy. But I haven't seen him since he came down from Cambridge. His parents died, and he went into the army and became that splendid masculine specimen that is coveted by every woman who sees him. He may be very different now from the boy I knew."

"Why is he considered a hero?"

"At Waterloo, the French tried to break through the line where his regiment was stationed. All of the senior officers were killed or wounded in the first a.s.sault, leaving young Duncan in command. Though he was wounded himself, his courage and leaders.h.i.+p prevented the enemy from breaking the line."

Leah nodded, understanding better why he disliked the label hero. It had been bought at a very high price. Proceeding to the critical question, she asked, "His affections are unattached?"

"I believe so. As I said earlier, he has not been going about much in society. Dislikes being lionized, I believe. But I understand that he's been more visible in the last fortnight." Lady Wheaton laughed wickedly. "Good hunting, child. If you can't capture him, I don't know what woman could."

Leah leaned back, expression determined. This was why she had accepted a faery bargain for beauty-so she could win the heart of a man like Duncan Townley.

Even though mortals could not see him, from habit Ranulph stayed in the shadow of a ma.s.sive rhododendron as he waited in the park opposite Wheaton House. As always, his Leah attracted an endless stream of male callers.

Then a smart sporting carriage drawn by matched bays swept into the square and halted in front of Wheaton House. The driver, a strikingly handsome young man of military bearing, gave his reins to his groom and jumped lightly to the ground, then entered the house. In a remarkably short time, he emerged with Leah on his arm. She was looking up into the man's eyes, her face bright with laughter.

She was exquisite, his little harpist. Ranulph greedily absorbed the sight of her slim, graceful figure and delicate features. He felt a surprising urge to reveal himself and wrench her away from her young man. G.o.ddess, but he'd spent too much time observing mortals! He was developing some of their vices, such as jealousy.

He watched as the young man helped her into the carriage with tender care. Then the man left his groom to wait at Wheaton House, and drove off with Leah.

Ranulph scowled. He should be pleased. If he was any judge, his little harpist was finally well on her way to falling in love, which meant that the day when he could claim her was not far off. That knowledge only increased his impatience.

"Surely in London you can find other amus.e.m.e.nts while you wait to net your mortal miss," a familiar purring voice said.

Ranulph was becoming accustomed to Kamana's silent appearances. This time when he turned, his hand was not on the hilt of his sword. "There is enough greenery here to sustain faery life, but it is locked into strange, unnatural shapes. I shall be glad when the time comes to return to my wood." He suppressed a sigh. His longing for the familiar green peace was almost as powerful as his desire to have Leah there as his consort.

"It won't be much longer now," Kamana said. "The silver threads are crossing now, creating shared destinies. You'll be home again soon."

"I hope so." He studied her appreciatively. Today she wore an Indian costume that swathed her magnificent figure with provocative snugness. Necklaces of golden coins jingled around her neck and drew attention to her dark silky skin. "What are your London amus.e.m.e.nts, Lady Kamana?"

She shrugged, the gesture creating a tantalizing possibility that her wrapped garment would come unmoored. "Observing the pa.s.sing scene. Visiting the green margins of the city. Did you know that by the river in Chelsea there is a wonderful apothecary's garden that contains plants from my own land?" She gave a dazzling smile. "But mostly I watch these strange, intriguing mortal creatures."

"Surely you cannot wish to stay in London forever."

"Oh, no," she said positively. "Soon I shall return to the country. I've visited the great faery courts in Somerset and Derbys.h.i.+re, and some smaller ones as well. I know what home I would prefer, but I will not speak of it until I'm sure I will be accepted."

He smiled down at her. For all her regal bearing, she was really quite a small creature. "I'm sure that whatever court you choose will welcome you gladly."

"We shall see." She pressed her hands together in front of her chest and bowed gracefully. "As we say in Hind, namaste. Until next time, Lord Ranulph."

She vanished in a s.h.i.+mmer of light. A good trick. He must learn how to do it. Then he turned and glided unseen through the street to Hyde Park so he could continue observing Leah and her mortal.

Leah enjoyed watching Duncan as he drove expertly through the crowded London streets. Heavens, she would enjoy watching him groom a horse or weed a garden. By the light of day he was every bit as handsome as he had seemed last night. More so.

Yet she was even more struck by the quality that Lady Wheaton had mentioned the night before. Beneath the facade of a bold and dangerous-looking hero was a disposition of surprising sweetness. The expression in his golden eyes when he'd called for her had been almost shy.

Duncan had come at an unfas.h.i.+onably early hour so they would not be constantly interrupted by acquaintances. When they reached the park and the traffic no longer required his complete attention, he glanced at her and said, mirroring her own earlier thoughts, "You are even lovelier than I thought last night. Helen of Troy could not have surpa.s.sed you."

"That is a very pretty compliment," Leah said seriously. "But I would not want to launch a thousand s.h.i.+ps. So much suffering! Not that I think it was Helen's fault. Surely Menelaus and Paris could have resolved their differences in a more civilized fas.h.i.+on."

Duncan grinned. "I've often thought the same. A duel would have been far more efficient. But the truth is that the Greeks simply liked to fight. I expect that any excuse would have done as well."

"Then they shouldn't have blamed the Trojan War on Helen," she said firmly. "It's the same as Adam blaming Eve for his own weakness. Most reprehensible."

He gave her a smile that made her knees weak. "I see that you are a radical."

"Not really, but I've read Mary Wollstonecraft G.o.dwin and agree with much of what she said." Leah smiled ruefully. "I promised Lady Wheaton that I would not reveal my bluestocking tendencies, but with you, I forgot my promise."

"I'm glad. Women with ideas are far more interesting than those who haven't two thoughts to rub together."

Leah glowed at his words. The compliment seemed to belong to her more than his praise for her beauty.

He continued, "Tell me about your family. Parents? Brothers and sisters?"

"No brothers and sisters," she said with regret. "I came late, when my parents had long since given up all thoughts of having a family."

"And . . . ?" he said, perhaps hearing something in her voice.

She hesitated, then said aloud what she seldom admitted even to herself. "My parents had little patience or interest in a child. They did their duty, of course, but . . ." Her voice trailed off before she continued, "Though my childhood was a quiet one, I always had my books and music. I was . . . content."

"I see," he said quietly, and she suspected that he did see.

"What of your family, Captain Townley?" she asked.

"Call me Duncan," he said with a warm look that reached deep inside her.

She seemed to be having trouble with her breathing. "Ver y well, Duncan. But . . . but you must call me Leah."

His answering smile was like a touch. How could the simple exchange of names feel so intimate?