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  No Perfect Magic

  Unexpected Magic Book Six

  Patricia Rice

  Patricia Rice

  Copyright © 2017 Patricia Rice

  Book View Cafe, June, 2017

  First Publication: June, 2017

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portion thereof, in any form.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Rice Enterprises, Dana Point, CA, an affiliate of Book View Café Publishing Cooperative

  Cover design by Kim Killion

  Book View Café Publishing Cooperative

  P.O. Box 1624, Cedar Crest, NM 87008-1624

  http://bookviewcafe.com

  ISBN 978-1-61138-682-0 ebook

  ISBN 978-1-61138-683-7 trade paper

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

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  Thank You.

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Magic in the Stars

  Magic in the Stars EXCERPT

  Acknowledgements

  Get A Free Patricia Rice Book

  Praise for Patricia Rice’s novels

  About the Author

  About Book View Café

  Author’s Note

  Reader enthusiasm keeps me writing, so you have only yourselves to blame for this series! I love my Malcolm and Ives, but they’re a troublesome lot, and some days, I just wish for a simple maiden and her farmer hero. You are my motivation to keep going.

  As in most of my Magic books, the Malcolm gifts I describe have some physical basis, often in neurology. In this book, I give my heroine hyper-acute hearing, a topic discussed and argued today, not as magical but as a medical difficulty. The resulting behavior is often on the autism spectrum, which of course wasn’t recognized in 1830. Neither was Will’s dyslexia, although that’s more of a nuisance than a gift. And if you believe in horse whisperers, I’m sure you already understand about dog whisperers! We really don’t know the extent to which we can use our minds and senses because we’re all different. May the different live long and prosper!

  To my new readers: Don’t worry. You needn’t have read any of the other volumes to enjoy this one. The characters may be recurring, but each story and couple stands alone. The only problem you might encounter is if you’re a stickler for title usage and don’t realize Lady Aster is the daughter of an earl and thus entitled to be called Lady Aster instead of Lady Theophilus—not that the Malcolms care overmuch about titles anyway. So just enjoy!

  Chapter 1

  Late September 1831, Castle Yates, Yorkshire

  * * *

  Dead meat, lemme, lemme, oh no, heel! Yummy bite, wiggle, flower lady now, please. . .

  Flower lady? William Ives-Madden cut off his connection with the mastiff’s kaleidoscopic thoughts before he stumbled inadvertently into the path of one of the duke’s daughters. The duke had felt safe hiring him because he knew Will wasn’t a womanizer.

  Will wouldn’t let the man down—he needed his grace’s support to buy the kennel he had his eye on.

  Besides, the duke’s daughters were too young, too dainty, and too toplofty for a big, uncouth bastard like himself.

  When a man’s voice carried through the arch in the hedge he’d been about to enter, Will fed Ajax another treat in approval for preventing his blundering in where he wasn’t wanted. Dead meat? Will thought in amusement, recalling Ajax’s scent. Ajax was female, but the duke had chosen the name for reasons of his own. Maybe he was on to something. Ajax didn’t like this gentleman and strained like any hero to get at him.

  Deciding the tableau shouldn’t be interrupted, if only for the entertainment value, Will waited where he could keep an eye on the scene. He’d lived in the shadow of Castle Yates the better part of his life. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen this play before, but one never knew how the farce would end.

  On the other side of the arch, beneath the rose arbor, an elegantly attired gentleman rested on bended knee before a lady. “You are the dawn’s golden light, the moon’s silver glow, the light of my life, Lady Aurelia. Will you please do me the great honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

  Will admired the gentleman’s way with words. In the eyes of every man over the age of six, Lady Aurelia was all he said and more. Her hair shimmered in the palest shades of corn silk. Her thick-lashed blue eyes matched the summer skies, and her dainty, feminine form made a man swell with protectiveness and desire.

  Unfortunately, as the wealthy daughter of a duke, she had more suitors than dogs had fleas. She’d had so many proposals, she would probably disdain a prince if one offered. Proposing to her had become a sport wagered on in taverns in the same way hunters wagered on the number of quail they’d bring down.

  Will pitied the foolish chap soaking his best trousers. As usual, the lady didn’t even deign to look at him but tilted her head to admire a bird flitting from the trees.

  The only real question was what the deuce she was doing out here without one of her family or servants with her. For good reason, the duke wisely shielded her from just this sort of inopportunity.

  Familiar with the lady’s eccentricities, and in lieu of a better guardian, Will lingered. His livelihood derived from training dogs to rescue lost animals and people, so watching over ladies was not his usual sort of task. But the duke wouldn’t be pleased if Will let the lady come to harm.

  “Lydia is playing the most beautiful waltz,” she responded inexplicably to her passionate suitor. “Let us see if they have opened the ballroom.”

  She was always polite. She never made sense.

  Without waiting for assistance, the duke’s daughter rose in a graceful swish of sprigged muslin, revealing a waist so petite that Will knew his big clumsy hands could encompass it.

  He went on alert as the scowling suitor groped his way upright by leaning on the bench she’d just departed.

  “My lady, I have poured my heart at your feet. I think I have a right to expect an answer.”

  The mastiff stiffened at his tone. Will did the same, narrowing his eyes as the gentleman reached his feet and caught the lady’s arm to detain her.

  Dead meat.

  Fearing the lady would not appreciate his intrusion, Will restrained himself and the dog.

  Lady Aurelia donned her frostiest expression, her impossibly long lashes sweeping up and down in disdain as she regarded the hand on her person.

 
; “Just say yes, my lady,” the gentleman suggested. “We are well suited. I will see that you are never bothered by undesirable admirers.”

  “The waltz calls,” she said, removing the hand crushing her sleeve by the simple expedient of bending a finger back until he had to jerk away.

  Will breathed a sigh of relief as she swayed briskly in the direction of the duke’s sprawling mansion. He really didn’t wish to cause a commotion by pounding a rich lordling into the ground like a garden post.

  Regrettably, the lordling didn’t take the lady’s form of dismissal as an answer. He caught up with her in a single stride, grabbed her arm, and swung her around rather forcefully.

  The frightened look on Lady Aurelia’s fair face was all it took to set off Will’s protective instincts. Trying his best to remember he wasn’t at home and couldn’t do as he pleased, he snapped his fingers and set Ajax lose. The giant mastiff ran straight toward the couple.

  Deciding the lordling didn’t look as frightened of the dog as the lady did of his grip, Will silently ordered Ajax to jump. The dog enthusiastically obeyed as if the gentleman really were the smelly animal carcass she’d sniffed earlier.

  Enormous paws landed square on the back of a tailored coat. The gentleman had to release the object of his desire if only to remain upright. Will noticed the nodcock did not attempt to block Lady Aurelia from the dog’s paws, as a gentleman ought.

  “Get off me, you beast!” the fool yelled, darting to one side while Ajax waved her tail and waited for a reward.

  Will sauntered from his hiding place in the hedge. “Well met, my lady,” he called, without explanation. He seldom gave explanations, and the lady knew who he was.

  “Is this your bloody brute?” the angry suitor demanded. “Get him off me!”

  “Her. Even females can be heroes. Ajax, down.” Will snapped his fingers, then produced a treat from his pocket. The mastiff happily trotted over to where Will had placed himself—between the lady and the gentleman.

  “Good afternoon, sir.” The lady patted Ajax’s massive head and accepted a drooling slurp. “Good doggie.”

  With legs down, the mastiff stood well over waist high. Her massive head and teeth turned toward the angry suitor, blocking his way. Without another word, Lady Aurelia swept down the gravel path, her petticoats swaying, head held high.

  The lordling glared at Will and fisted his fingers. “Who the devil are you?”

  “The one keeping the duke’s dog from biting off your balls.” That was one explanation he didn’t mind giving. Feeding Ajax her treat, humming the waltz coming from the open window, Will aimed for his original goal, the kennel.

  There. He had behaved like the gentleman he wasn’t for a change. Did the soul good to occasionally refrain from pounding lordlings into fence posts.

  Of course, he’d need a cold bath in the brook after encountering the lady’s flower scent and seeing those huge blue eyes up close, wide with fear and anger and maybe a hint of admiration.

  Even females can be heroes, Mr. Madden had said.

  Aurelia wished she had the courage to be one. Given all the blessings she’d been given, her family expected her to accomplish marvelous things, not lurk in sequestered chambers.

  Entering the cacophony of a house filled with over a hundred servants and guests, she rubbed her temple and tried to concentrate on the lovely notes emanating from the new piano.

  Although she loved the music, she couldn’t bear the penetrating, abrasive chatter of their guests in the music room. After the encounter with Lord Clayton, her head pounded from the assault of all the castle’s noises, and she retreated to a quieter wing, shivering. She’d had enough company for a while—which was why she’d stupidly sought the privacy of the garden in the first place.

  Recalling the ugly scene in the garden, she hurried to the parlor overlooking the path to the kennel.

  A long line of yews sheltered the outbuildings from view, but Mr. Madden hadn’t reached the hedge yet. At the sight of him, she took a deep breath of relief. The large. . . gentleman. . . strode along, unharmed, as if he hadn’t just routed her suitor without lifting a hand. She didn’t know what had come over the usually indolent Lord Clayton, but she despised altercations and was glad the dog trainer had behaved with more civility than the earl’s son.

  She had heard tales of Mr. Madden. His animals had pulled drowning people from ponds, found lost children in snowstorms, and more. She had thought them mostly local-boy-does-good stories, but his action in keeping Clayton away added corroboration.

  Sheltered here as she was, she seldom had the opportunity to meet anyone outside the duke’s elevated social circle. She’d seen Mr. Madden, of course, but only from a distance.

  Mr. Madden had the build of an ox. Any attempt to hit his hard, very square jaw would have broken Lord Clayton’s knuckles. Since Mr. Madden spent most of his time in physical exercise and had the taut bulging muscles to prove it, Clayton wouldn’t have fared any better had he pummeled him elsewhere. She appreciated the trainer’s long-legged stride and straight posture as he directed Ajax into happy circles to prevent the dog from chasing after a rabbit crossing their path.

  She sighed in admiration over the overlong wealth of thick bronze hair brushing his loosely-tied neckcloth. Why couldn’t the gentlemen who courted her look like that? She might even try to listen to them if they did.

  Hearing an argument rising above the music, she decided maybe not. Even a dog handler would need to be a mute hermit for her to be comfortable. And her father and brother would shoot anyone less than an earl who came near her—which was why their current guests shouldn’t be here at all. Her sisters had been mad to invite them.

  Still, they were all gentlemen, as far as she was aware. Lord Clayton was heir to an earl. What on earth had caused him to overreact in such a manner? It did not seem in character, although she would be the first to admit that she was not a keen judge of behavior. Unfortunately, out of self-preservation, she preferred shirking society to observing it.

  She peered around the corner to verify no one lurked in the corridor, then darted toward the library. If she was fortunate, she might find a book with pictures and sneak up the back stairs to her room before anyone found her.

  She grimaced as she slipped into the library and Lord Baldwin rose from a wing chair with a rose in hand. As he spoke, she lost her concentration on the music, and the clamor of a large household invaded her head.

  Don’t you ever go in my pantry again or I’ll take this knife. . .

  Drip, drip, ping. Drip, drip, drip, ping.

  A waltz please! We need to practice. . .

  E, F#, G#, A, B, C#, D#, E, G

  You bastard, I thought you said there was no one out there. . .

  Is she really gone?

  She nearly whimpered as the more emotional arguing dominated, intensifying the pain. Was that Lord Clayton shouting? At whom? Who was gone? Should she rescue the person threatened with a knife? How could she think with all these questions demanding an answer?

  Vaguely, realizing Lord Baldwin had stopped speaking, not having registered half the words said, she dipped a curtsy. “How very lovely to see you again, my lord.” Intent on no more than escape, Aurelia abandoned another bewildered suitor.

  With her over-sensitive ears assaulted from all directions, she hurried up to her private wing, only to find her sisters waiting. Well, she had expected no less. She shut and bolted the extra-thick door, blessedly shutting out the worst of the aural storm. Stubbornly, she sat on a chaise longue near the window overlooking a quiet park filled only with birdsong, and waited for the lecture to begin.

  “Did you accept Lord Clayton’s suit?” Lydia asked, trying on Aurelia’s diamond earrings and admiring them in the vanity mirror. Her round face and blond curls weren’t classically pretty but pleasant enough. At nineteen, she’d already been presented and snared a suitor— because Aurelia had refused to go to London last season. The previous ones had been too horrifyingly pa
inful and embarrassing.

  She didn’t know if she could put off her father’s demands that she marry much longer.

  “Or Lord Baldwin’s?” Phoebe asked excitedly. “A spring wedding, just in time for my come-out would be wonderful!”

  Phoebe was only seventeen. A shorter, plumper version of her older sisters, she was sweeter-natured but more impetuous.

  “It won’t happen,” Lydia said in boredom. “You’d do better to anticipate my nuptials.”

  “Your betrothed will surely be home by spring,” Aurelia said reassuringly, trying to follow her sisters’ chatter with the din of a hundred voices buzzing and shouting from beyond her thick walls. In addition to extra thickness, she’d added heavy paneling and tapestries so she had some chance of sleeping at night. “Do you have your music prepared for the musicale this evening? Lady Bennet has such a lovely voice!”

  “You won’t even be there to listen!” Both her sisters glared at her. Accustomed to her behavior, though, they did not waste time bothering her again with questions she didn’t hear or wouldn’t answer.

  “We waited until father and Rain were both in London to arrange this entertainment,” Lydia continued, her anger superseding the buzz in the distance. “We brought in all the eligible young men you haven’t rejected, the ones whom they would not invite. And you still cannot decide?”

  “I don’t hear them,” Aurelia cried plaintively, hugging an embroidered pillow. “How can I marry someone I cannot hear?”