Free Whisper of Magic by Patricia Rice Page A

brilliant mind
shouldn’t be left to rot.
    “Fine, then. Have eggs flung at you and the roof fall on
your head in the next hard rain.” Erran meant every word he said, knowing his
obstinate brother would do exactly the opposite of what he suggested. “The
Rochesters will probably burn voodoo charms in the kitchen. Which is another
thing . . . I’m not certain we can remove their servants and
replace them with ours.”
    Ashford’s mouth quirked. “Our what ? Non-existent servants? Have Lady Aster magically summon a
very large butler and two strong footmen to guard the doors. We’ll sort the
rest later.”
    “They have no proper chaperone,” Erran argued, keeping his
tone dispassionate. He intended to influence his brother, but not with any kind
of . . . what? Silver tongues weren’t magic, but what was the
difference if he lashed out or twisted words? Either way, he was manipulating
Dunc. He needed to examine his morals at a better time. “You’ll ruin their
reputations!”
    The marquess snorted. “I’ll call them my wards. No one will
believe a blind man could compromise two perfectly healthy females accompanied
by their brother and Nubian giants.”
    Erran sat up, rocking his chair to indicate surprise. “You
really mean to go through with this—just move into that aging mausoleum with a
flock of lunatics?”
    Ashford drew a sour face. “It’s no worse than sitting here
moldering. At least there I can rot while talking to men with influence.”
    “It’s on your head then,” Erran declared, standing, hiding
his triumph. By jingo, he could see where the power of persuasion could go to
the head. “I have to head back and start digging through files to see how much
Lansdowne’s solicitors have destroyed or if they’ve ignored the courts
entirely. I shall be pleased to call on you once you’re installed in London so
I may say I told you so.”
    “Go to hell,” Ashford answered complacently as Erran opened
the door wide enough for him to hear the hinges creak.
    The blind marquess had
finally agreed to leave the house! Duty accomplished—to his own
amazement—Erran took the Iveston stairs to the ground floor two at a time. At
the bottom, he found Theo waiting for a report. Erran slapped him on the back.
“He’s agreed to move to London, warts and all. Aster just needs to summon a
burly butler and two giant footmen.”
    Theo snorted. “I could talk to him logically and explain all
the reasons he needs to go to town, and he’d throw his snifter at me. You go in
and tell him all the reasons he shouldn’t go, and he decides town’s the place
to be.”
    Erran shrugged uncomfortably and sounded out his theory on
his more scientific older brother. “I apparently possess a lawyerly ability to
twist phrases to my advantage.”
    Theo snorted in disbelief. “Right-o. You were always a
silver-tongued little mongrel. How did an uncommunicative scientist like me get
stuck in this family?”
    That wasn’t what Erran had wanted to hear, but he played it
nonchalant. “Luck, pure luck, old boy. Except you’re the madman who married
into your wife’s witchy clan. There is no accounting for taste.”
    It was the damned witchy family causing his confusion. He
ought to quit worrying about Cousin Sylvester, silver tongues, levitating
gavels and vases, and go back to what he did best—twisting words. That’s what
lawyers did, right?
    Erran donned his redingote and hat and pulled on his gloves.
“I’ve sent word to Cousin Zack to meet me at the house tomorrow to look at the
repairs, so I need to ride back tonight. Do you think Aster can summon servants
from nowhere?”
    “She has two suitable footmen trained, but she’ll have to
raid the staffs of her family to find a butler. She’ll make it happen. She’s quite
taken with Miss Rochester and her family.”
    So was Erran, but he wouldn’t admit his fascination. Women
were fine in bed when one had the wherewithal. He seldom did. And he certainly
had no