Page 39 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

CHAPTER4

Gwyn wasn’table to get a moment alone with Tamsyn until after dinner. She invaded the privacy of her sisters’ shared bedroom and found her preparing for bed.

“Where is Rose?” Tamsyn asked.

“I don’t know. I swear she grows more reclusive by the day. I think she’s spent the day hiding from everyone.”

“From everyone?” Tamsyn asked pointedly.

“Well, she does seem to be hiding specifically from the Earl of Snowingham, although she also seems to be . . . interested in him.” Gwyn sighed. “I wish her better luck than I have had.”

Tamsyn looked sympathetic while she removed her jewelry.

“Ugh.” Gwyn shaded her eyes as the candlelight in the room flashed from her sister’s brooch. “That thing is going to blind me. The Eye of India, indeed.”

“I know, pretentious sounding—but it is a beauty, is it not?” Tamsyn set the piece on her dressing table. “I would feel better about it if Uncle Timothy had sent Morgan something as well. I understand I’m the oldest, but we are both marrying. It feels odd—especially as I’m supposed to wear the thing each day before the weddings.”

“I wouldn’t worry over it,” Gwyn told her. “Morgan doesn’t seem bothered.”

“I know. Still . . .” Her words trailed off and she yawned. “I know the castle is full, but I can never seem to find a maid when I need one.”

“Here, let me.” Gwyn stepped behind her sister and met her gaze in the mirror as she started to remove pins from her hair. “You’ve been so busy, no wonder you are tired. I’m sorry to have to bother you, but I have something I must discuss with you.”

“Does it involve Locryn?” Tamsyn teased.

“Yes.” She flushed. “Among other things. I need your help.”

“You know you have it, dear. What is it?”

Gwyn told her the entire story. When she had finished, Tamsyn’s hair was brushed and shining—and she wore an intrigued frown. “It doesn’t exactly mirror what happened to me, but there are enough similarities. I’d say someone or something . . . different . . . has taken an interest in Locryn.” Her mouth twisted. “I am sorry, Gwyn. I cannot imagine not being able to kiss Gryff.”

“It’s more than that. If a kiss is not allowed, what else might happen? Are we endangering one another just by falling in love? Wishing to be together?”

“Based on my own experiences and what you’ve described, I’d say it’s a possibility.”

“Do you think it’s the Pixies?”

Tamsyn’s brow wrinkled further. “It could be.”

Gwyn took a deep breath before plowing forward. “I know I don’t know the entire story of what happened with you and Gryff, but I know the Pixie’s were involved. I know Father knows. I did hear you speak with him about Paul Hambly too, after the dowager countess passed away. You said Paul was kind to you. That he had a part in getting you and Gryff together.”

Her sister sighed. “Yes. He’s been more than helpful. He’s changed, though, since his mother’s death. He’s so quiet and forlorn. I rarely see him now.”

“Do you think he could help us—me and Locryn?”

Tamsyn considered the question. “He did seem to know when I had been touched by Pixie magic. Maybe he could see something, a sign or a hint or a clue about Locryn’s problem.” She sounded unsure.

“Could we ask him?”

“We could try.”

“Oh, thank you, Tamsyn,” she said fervently. “How do we . . . reach him?”

Tamsyn stood and dragged a chair into a corner. “Sit there. Don’t make any sudden moves or speak unless I give you the nod.” She went back to her dressing table, but turned the seat to face the room. “Paul?” she called quietly. “Paul Hambly?”

She waited a moment. “Paul, are you there, dear?”

“Tamsyn.” His voice sounded first, then the figure of a small boy materialized in the middle of the room. “I’m glad you called. There’s not much time—but I did wish to see you.”

---