Lord Sebastian's Secret (The Duke's Sons #3)(81)

She looked surprised. They hadn’t really conversed beyond polite nothings.

“It’s just that I have a few questions about the, er, ritual this evening.” He and Georgina had agreed that this approach would make sense to Miss Byngham and flatter her as well.

“Of course,” she replied graciously. “How may I aid you?”

Sebastian retreated into the parlor, drawing Miss Byngham along with him. He didn’t want to be caught by Hilda, or anyone else, in the middle of his delaying action. He made a production of ushering her to a seat. “Is that comfortable?” he asked. When she blinked at him, he realized he was laying it on too thick in his efforts to draw things out. He sat opposite her and said, “I’m not sure what I’m meant to be doing tonight.”

She gave him a benign smile. “As I’ve mentioned, the purpose of our ritual is to weave you into the Stane family.”

“Not sure what that means,” replied Sebastian, quite sincerely. “I’m a bit slow, I suppose.”

“Not at all. It is an area almost universally neglected in our place and time. Think of it: all over England people are marrying. Through the ceremonies, they acquire a host of new relatives with little more than a handshake or a curtsy to introduce them. And then they are expected to look upon these strangers as part of their families.”

She actually had a point, Sebastian thought. Which didn’t mean that her approach to the issue was sensible. “But how does it work?” he said. “Your…weaving?” He tried a joke. “Sounds like Stane and I will be twisted in knots together.”

Miss Byngham did not appear to appreciate the humor. “Not at all. There will be no…twisting involved.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Sebastian. “I’m a bit nervous about my part.”

“You needn’t worry about anything,” she replied. “The words you speak, within the context of the ritual, will create the bond.” She gathered her skirts to rise. “I should go. There are still many preparations to make.”

They’d only been in the parlor ten minutes, Sebastian saw. “But…” he said desperately.

Miss Byngham looked at him, brows raised.

What could he say? “I thought…that is, shouldn’t I…er, get into the right frame of mind beforehand?”

“No special preparation is required, Lord Sebastian. Simply clear your mind.” Her tone suggested that she didn’t believe there would be many thoughts to move out of the way. She rose and turned toward the door.

*

The lock clicked, and Georgina let out a sigh of relief. Of course it was the very last of the keys she’d chosen that finally did the trick. She slipped into Joanna’s room, shutting the door behind her. After a moment’s debate, she relocked it, leaving the key in the hole. The heavy ring made it droop a bit.

Georgina looked around the room. She remembered her governess’s quarters as a model of spare tidiness. What surrounded her now was the opposite. Colorful fabric scraps left over from Joanna’s new sleeves adorned every surface, including the floor. Stacks of books from the castle library sat here and there, interspersed with discarded boots and gloves and empty teacups. Several millinery projects, along the lines of the headdress Joanna had shown her days ago, added to the chaos. How was she going to find anything in this clutter?

Georgina stood in the center of the chamber and turned slowly, scanning each pile. The materials for the ritual had to be somewhat organized. It was tonight after all. Joanna must have everything ready.

She went over to the small writing desk under one of the windows. Papers littered the top and lay in drifts around it. Georgina riffled through them, reading a few words on each one before letting it fall. They all seemed to be notes rather than a finished piece.

*

He had to think of something else to say, Sebastian thought. “Wait!”

Miss Byngham turned back, staring at the urgency of his tone.

“The thing is…” he said. What came next? “I’m…I’m rather…afraid I’ll botch it.” That was the ticket. Besides being perfectly true, the threat to her production was bound to worry her. “I’m not much for public speaking. Soldier, you know.” He didn’t have to feign concern. Despite Georgina’s help, he was apprehensive. It seemed all too likely that he’d make a fool of himself tonight, if not worse.

“You won’t be speaking, Lord Sebastian,” the governess replied soothingly. “Merely reading a short passage. There is no possibility of making a mistake.”

Here was another case of what his brother Robert called irony, Sebastian thought. There was no “merely reading” for him. “Yes, but everybody will be looking at me,” he said.

“All of us will be in an exalted state,” she answered. “The opening of the ritual will assure that. There will be no problems. Now I really must go.” She moved toward the half-open door.

What the devil was an “exalted state”? Sebastian wondered. But she was escaping him. And the hour hadn’t passed, not nearly.

All the pages around the desk held only fragments or gibberish. Georgina nearly despaired as she reached the bottom of the last pile. Perhaps some of them were parts of the ritual, but she’d seen nothing that seemed complete. Feeling uncomfortable, she peeked into Joanna’s wardrobe. Only clothes. Once again, she turned in a circle in the center of the room. Where could it be? She’d been in here more than twenty minutes. And she had to copy the passage once she found it. If she found it. No, she had to. She would not fail Sebastian.