The Marquis' Mystical Witch (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

  The Marquis' Mystical Witch

  Cursed and scarred, Ulric (Wulf) Hamlin, the Marquis of Radford, becomes a recluse after his wife’s death. When he returns to London, after five years, he meets Althea Beckett at his sister’s coming out ball. Used to seeing revulsion in women’s faces, Althea instead touches him and soothes his pain.

  Wulf’s family curse causes him to shape shift into a werewolf at each full moon. But Althea and her sister have their own hidden powers. Wulf's family strongly encourages him to wed and produce an heir, and Althea faces a marriage with a repulsive man she fears.

  Wulf and Althea agree to marry for their mutual benefit, but both keep their secrets to themselves. Wulf hopes to hide his family curse from Althea until he finds a cure, but she suspects something is not right. They must face their own demons, find a way to break the curse and trust enough to love.

  Genre: Historical, Paranormal, Regency

  Length: 93,912 words

  THE MARQUIS’ MYSTICAL WITCH

  Rachel McNeely

  ROMANCE

  www.BookStrand.com

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  A SIREN-BOOKSTRAND TITLE

  IMPRINT: Romance

  THE MARQUIS’ MYSTICAL WITCH

  Copyright © 2010 by Rachel McNeely

  E-book ISBN: 1-60601-726-8

  First E-book Publication: February 2010

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my sister, Joan.

  Thank you for believing in this book and encouraging me.

  And to Laura, for reminding me that even very difficult tasks can be accomplished one step at a time.

  THE MARQUIS’ MYSTICAL WITCH

  RACHEL MCNEELY

  Copyright © 2010

  Chapter One

  Ulric Hamlin, the Marquis of Radford, rode through the rain-soaked countryside on his way to London. His scarred face ached. He had to put up with the bad weather, since he waited until the last possible moment before starting his trip. He’d promised his sister, Jane, to attend her coming-out ball and he tried to never disappoint her. For Jane he’d left his self-imposed seclusion at his estate and would face the curious stares of the Ton.

  He missed his brother, Evan. His grief was still sharp from learning of Evan's death five months ago. Influenza had traveled through the countryside making many people sick and Evan was one of those who died.

  Cold rain battered Ulric’s hat and blew across his face blurring his vision. He buttoned the collar of his greatcoat against the dampness that penetrated straight through his clothes and chilled his bones. The foul weather fit his mood. He wished for the hundredth time that he was home sitting beside his fireplace.

  His spirits rose slightly on sighting the hunting lodge where his best friend, Jeffrey Collier, the Earl of Kenelm, spent the bulk of his time while in the country. He nudged his chestnut stallion, Batair, down the narrow track to the stables. Jeffrey’s groom met Ulric at the stable door and assured him he’d see to his horse. Ulric watched as the man led Batair away. Rain fell in sheets now. He hesitated, then pulled his hat lower and ran to the side door of the lodge, where the butler greeted him.

  “Lord Radford, welcome to Blackwell Lodge. Let me take your wet coat and hat.” He handed Ulric’s dripping attire to a footman standing nearby. “Lord Kenelm is in his study.”

  Ulric followed the butler down the hall and stopped at an open door. The warmth of the nearby fire and the smell of good tobacco greeted him. Jeffrey sat comfortably slumped in a chair by the fireplace, reading a book. Ulric smiled, the scars pulling at his cheek. Dressed in buckskin pantaloons and an open neck shirt, with his blond hair tousled, it was apparent his friend did not expect company. After announcing Ulric, the butler bowed out of the room.

  “Welcome,” Jeffrey said, putting out his cheroot as he stood. “I didn’t think anyone would venture out today.”

  “Only the foolhardy and the restless. I’m on my way to London.”

  Jeffrey raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised, but pleased.”

  Ulric shrugged. “I promised Jane I’d be there for her first ball.”

  “I suspected it had to be something vitally important to draw you back into society,” he said with a smile. “Sit.”

  Walking to a small, round mahogany table, Jeffrey opened a decanter and poured brandy into two crystal glasses. Turning, his eyes met Ulric’s directly. “Now tell me what really brought you here.”

  Ulric took his glass, lifted it toward his friend and tipped it back. The brandy left a fiery trail of warmth. He sat with his feet stretched out close to the fire, almost content.

  “Evan's death has changed things,” Ulric said.

  “There is no one else to be your heir, except a distant relative.” Jeffrey shrugged. “And now, I imagine your mother wants you to marry.”

  "Yes, but I have no desire to have a son cursed too. I'd hoped the title going to the second born son would end our family's nightmare.” Ulric stared into his glass.

  “It might not have worked. His first born might then have been affected.”

  “We'll never know now. I miss him.” Tipping his glass up, Ulric emptied it.

  “That is no way to treat good brandy, my friend.”

  Ulric shrugged. “Mother's insistence that I wed and produce an heir is rather confusing, since she hates the wolf.” He rubbed the scarred side of his face.

  “You’d be a good father.”

  “We’re missing one important ingredient,” Ulric stood and began to pace around the room.

  “A wife?” Jeffrey quirked an eyebrow at him.

  “Yes. You know until this nightmare ends, I planned not to wed again.”

  “Your father and grandfathers managed.”

  Ulric stood by the fireplace, his right side turned toward the orange flames. The reflected heat soothed the aching scars. “They bought or used their influence to arrange marriages and stayed away on business frequently.�
�� He laughed harshly. “And they didn’t have a face that repulsed women at the first glance and the nickname of Wulf. I have no desire for a wife who cares naught for me, but for my title and money and who is frightened by my appearance.” He hesitated. “But most of all, one I fear I could harm.” Wulf stared into the fire.

  “You’ve never hurt anyone,” Jeffrey snapped.

  “I came very close.” Wulf turned to face his friend. “You know what happened in the past. I’ve feared losing control ever since.”

  Clenching his hands, Wulf stared back into the fire. Even now, the memory of that day remained crystal clear. The fire of anger coursing through his veins when he realized his wife, Clarisse, and one of his best friends, Thomas, had run away together. The blood lust raging through his body sent the wolf after them and the shock of finding the overturned carriage and his wife dead had stunned him. Wulf listened to the sound of the crackling flames, then slowly turned.

  “When I found Thomas boarding a ship for Europe, even though I was back in human form, my animal instincts took over. If several men hadn’t pulled me away from him, he’d have been dead. It took hours for the blood lust to cool.”

  “He deserved it after betraying you with Clarisse.” Jeffrey said bluntly. “But back to your present dilemma. Will you marry?”

  Wulf frowned at his friend. “Could you chance having a child, knowing the firstborn son would become a werewolf on his sixteenth birthday?” He spit out the bitter words through his tight throat.

  Jeffrey reached out and gripped Wulf’s shoulder. “Join me in a meal. Forget about your problems for tonight. You and I both know any decisions you need to make will still be there tomorrow.”

  But Wulf knew he’d made the decision. The problem was where to find a convenient wife.

  * * * *

  Thea Beckett swung her basket of fresh picked apples by her side. She loved her home, and even if it wasn’t hers anymore, at least she still lived here. She had been trying very hard to be helpful to Uncle Rigby and his family since they moved in. It was difficult. She still mourned her parents’ deaths, but she endeavored to put on a good face for her sister, Elvie.

  The tall, stiff butler greeted her at the door. “Miss Beckett, your uncle wishes to see you in his study.”

  She missed Charles, their former butler, but Uncle Rigby had dismissed him and put his own man in place. “Thank you, Albert.” Thea handed him the basket of apples. “Please take those to the cook.” She hid a smile at the affronted look he gave her.

  Turning down the left corridor, she went toward what had been her father’s study. Before tapping on the door, Thea removed her bonnet and smoothed back her hair. She glanced down at the front of her pink, wool gown. Although slightly wrinkled, it would have to do. Her uncle expected a prompt response to any request. Reluctantly, she knocked.

  “Enter.”

  Thea stood hesitantly in the entrance. “You wished to see me, Uncle Rigby?”

  “Yes, yes, come in, girl.” He looked up from his papers with his perpetual frown. “Sit.” He motioned to the caned beechwood chair in front of his large desk.

  She nodded, sat and then glanced around the room. New nutty brown curtains hung closed at the windows. Her uncle didn’t like the bright light. She pulled her cape closer around her. Uncle Rigby also thought it wasteful to have a fire all day. His stern voice brought her attention back to him.

  “In a few days, we will be off to London. I know your first season was not particularly successful.” He leaned back and studied her with his small drab eyes. “You are presentable, if not pretty. A bit older since you missed last season mourning your parents. Nevertheless, I expect you to make an agreeable contract of marriage before we return here in June.”

  “Agreeable to whom, Uncle Rigby?”

  His jaw tightened and a vein pulsed at his temple. She must watch her words. This cold man was nothing like her kind, loving father. They were not alike in looks or actions. Of course, Uncle Rigby was a half brother and apparently much more like his ill-natured mother.

  “Several gentlemen expressed an interest in you during your first season. I’ve been told you refused their generous offers.”

  Thea grimaced. He had to be speaking of Lord Hart and Lord Akers. Lord Hart, a widower with four small children obviously seeking a free nanny, and Lord Akers, a tall, thin aristocrat with the coldest silver eyes she’d ever seen. She had politely declined both.

  “The gentlemen you are speaking of did not suit me and my parents agreed.”

  “Be that as it may.” Her uncle glared across the desk. “Lord Akers has approached me with a very generous offer, and I expect you to give him first consideration.”

  “Uncle Rigby, I thought Elvie and I were welcome to live here until we met someone we wished to marry. Surely you do not expect me to accept an offer from that horrible man.”

  “I certainly do. He is a most proper titled gentleman. You should be pleased to have received an offer from an earl.” He glanced away for a moment.

  She felt nauseous at the thought of having to pretend to welcome Lord Akers’ suit. Thea's mind raced trying to find the right words to convince her uncle to let her chose who she'd marry.

  Uncle Rigby leaned forward. “When we go to town, you will receive Lord Akers and show an interest in him at Ton gatherings. After an adequate period of time, your betrothal will be announced.” He moved some papers around on his desk, ignoring her. “There is little extra money for a dowry, and I expect Lord Akers will also make a home for your sister.”

  “Papa set aside money for our dowries. Mama assured me of that after his death.”

  “Well, your parents are gone. I have to keep up this large estate and see about my own daughter. I have no need for two more girls to drain our income.”

  Thea wanted to shout at him that it was their home and their money and he and his disagreeable wife were the interlopers. She gritted her teeth instead. She must protect her sister at all costs.

  “Is that all, Uncle Rigby?”

  “Yes. You may go.”

  Infuriated by their discussion, she stomped across the room and out the door, careful not to slam it, as she would have preferred. Whatever could she do? She’d never wed Lord Akers or allow Elvie to live under his roof.

  She hurried toward the small sitting room. Elvie had her head bent over her sewing, a look of concentration on her sweet face. Seeing Thea, she smiled. Aunt Cornelia glanced up from her book. Her pale, icy blue eyes met Thea’s before quickly glancing away. Thea was sure she knew about the meeting with Uncle Rigby.

  Why was he making these demands? There had to be more too this sudden “hurry and marry” decision than she was being told. Thea tried to please her aunt. She took Aunt Cornelia’s quarrelsome mother, who reminded Thea of a yipping terrier, outside for walks. The rest of the day, she ran up and down stairs to fetch whatever they wanted. Now, she and her sister were suddenly an imposition in their own home.

  “Come, walk with me,” Thea said, motioning to her sister. “It’s nice outside, although a bit cool.”

  Elvie smiled. “I’ll get my pelisse and join you out front.”

  Silence filled the room as Elvie left. Thea continued to stare at her aunt. She knew in her heart that this miserable woman had a hand in her fate. Her smug countenance said it all.

  “If you have something to say, young lady, speak out,” Aunt Cornelia snapped.

  Thea clenched her hands. “I don’t understand. Why must my sister and I leave? I’ve done everything possible to help since your arrival.”

  “I’m sure your uncle explained. It is for the best,” she said, pulling her shoulders back. “You will thank us later.”

  “We have no other options?” Thea asked.

  Aunt Cornelia shot her a piercing glance. “I could arrange for you to be a companion to my friend, Lady Nichols.” She flashed a cruel smile when Thea winced. “Your sister can wed Lord Akers in your place. Perhaps that arrangement would be more to yo
ur liking?”

  Fury whipped through Thea. Unable to hold in the words, she stepped closer. Brief pleasure flashed through her at the sign of fear she glimpsed in Aunt Cornelia’s eyes.

  Struggling to control her anger, Thea bent toward her aunt and spoke in a low controlled voice. “I don’t know what you and Uncle Rigby are hiding regarding this urgency for me to marry Lord Akers. I will find out what made you change your mind, no matter how long it takes.” With that said, Thea rushed out of the room and into the fresh air.

  She took gulping breaths and fought to hold back her tears. She had to be careful and strong for Elvie. Somehow, she must find an answer for both of them.

  Lord Akers was her worst nightmare. She recalled his leering eyes and thin cold hands the first and last time he’d danced with her. She’d avoided him afterwards. However, she’d seen him lurking in the background with a smirk on his mouth and his cold eyes, flat and unreadable. He waited like a coiled snake ready to strike. And with her uncle’s help, he had.

  “Thea,” Elvie called.

  Thea blinked one last time and forced a smile to her face. She planned to tell her sister about her conversation with her uncle, but she wouldn’t mention Lord Akers, only about her need to find a husband.

  Was there anyone willing to marry a lady without a dowry and with a sister? What if the man she married found out about her special talent? Would he accept her? She had to be careful, not just for herself, but also for Elvie. Her mother had warned her to choose a man who would understand and accept every aspect of her. For now, she must hide her abilities.

  If only she could view this season with joy and excitement instead of with cold fear in her belly. The world around them had suddenly become a much more dangerous place.