Late one afternoon, after Peter had left, Evleen remained in the gazebo to tidy up. She was pleased with the way the day had gone. Peter continued to be a delightful pupil who absorbed knowledge like a sponge. Also, on a personal note, she was wearing a new gown just completed by the seamstress. Made of a soft blue batiste, it had three satin bands of a darker blue circling the skirt and delicate white lace frills decorating the bodice and sleeves. Never had she owned such a beautiful gown. With her auburn hair contrasting with the blue, she knew she looked her best.

She had almost finished putting the lesson books away when Beaumont appeared. «How did the lessons go today?»

«Very well,» she answered, her heart quickening at sight of him. She searched for something safe to say. «Have you noticed the sunset? It’s quite beautiful.»

He came to stand beside her. Together they watched the setting sun paint puffy clouds with gorgeous streaks of pink and gold. Finally he remarked with a sigh, «It won’t be long now.»

«Your wedding?»

«My wedding,» he replied in a voice totally devoid of enthusiasm.

«You must be very happy.» What else could she say?

«Happy?» he responded sharply. «How can I be happy when I—?» Abruptly he turned to face her. His hands gripped her shoulders, causing her to gasp in surprise. «Ah, Evleen, Evleen. the very thought of marrying Bettina is repugnant to me, not when I.» He drew a deep breath, seeming to attempt to control his emotions. «Do you know how beautiful you look in that blue dress?»

Taken aback by his intensity, she sought to make light of it. «The seamstress did rather a good job, I thought. She» —

He gripped her shoulders even tighter. «I love you, Evleen,» he burst out, his voice breaking with emotion. «With all my heart I have fallen in love with you.» He swung her into the circle of his arms, claiming her lips as he crushed her to him. Stunned, her knees weak, she returned his kiss with a pent-up hunger that spoke of the endless nights she had lain awake imagining herself in his arms. Finally, raising his mouth from hers, he gazed into her eyes. «I want to make love to you, my beautiful Evleen,» he said, his breath coming hard. «I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Day and night my thoughts are full of you — your charming smile, your wit, your lovely Irish laugh, everything about you. Oh, God, I want you so much I»—

He seemed to catch himself. With an oath he thrust her away and strode to the other side of the gazebo. For a time, he stood with his back to her, hands clasped behind him, staring out at the garden. She could hear his breathing return to normal as he slowly composed himself. Finally he turned. «You must forgive me. I had no right to touch you.»

«But I wanted you to,» she replied. «I, too»—

«No! Don’t say any more.» He regarded her with anguished eyes. «I am betrothed. Do you know what that means in England? It means the moment I asked for Bettina’s hand in marriage, my fate was sealed. I cannot simply change my mind. If I did, my family would be in complete disgrace. I, myself, would receive the cut direct.»

«What is that?»

«Just like it sounds. People would not speak to me. If they saw me coming, they would turn their backs.»

«How cruel.»

«Yes, it’s cruel, but that’s the way of it in our society. I could endure it if I had to, but I cannot have my family disgraced. More than that, it’s a matter of honour.» He laughed bitterly. «Oh, yes, I am a man of honour, if nothing else. I shall keep my word. Forget this ever happened, Evleen. It will never happen again.» With an expression of grief, mixed with self-reproach, he abruptly left the gazebo and strode back to the mansion with determined steps.

Evleen sank into a chair, her knees so weak she could not stand. Her thoughts swirled between joy and sorrow. Joy because he loved her. Sorrow because theirs was a love that was utterly hopeless. What should she do now? She could go away, but where? She could never return to Ireland — the cottage had been sold, nothing was left for her there. She could seek a position as a governess somewhere. She hated the thought of it. Horror stories abounded concerning the abysmal treatment of governesses in some of the great mansions.

Worst of all, if she left, what would happen to Peter? The boy had been lagging in his studies before she came, no doubt still grieving for his mother. But since her arrival, he had blossomed, showing a brilliance that must not be allowed to lie fallow again.

That settled it. She would stay even if she must suffer the pain of constantly seeing Richard together with his new bride. For Peter’s sake, she would endure it.

«Ah, Miss O’Fallon, there you are!»

Algernon. A shudder of dislike ran through her. Cousin Algernon had remained at Chatfield Court the whole time she’d been there. Nobody could stand the man. The maids fled at the sight of him. Rumour had it that Lord Beaumont had chastised his cousin more than once, warning him to stop annoying the ladies as well as the female servants. Obviously Algernon had ignored all admonitions. Evleen noted that the spark of lust still gleamed in his eye, and the disgusting I-am-God’s-gift-to-women expression remained on his pasty face.

She scrambled to her feet and began collecting books and papers. «Yes, here I am,» she answered, hardly bothering to conceal the dislike in her voice.

«Here, let me help you.» Algernon reached for the books in her arms, his hand «accidentally» brushing across her bosom.

She abruptly backed away. «I can manage for myself,» she snapped. «I’m not finished here. You had best go back to the house.»

«What a pity,» he replied in his oily voice. «I had thought we might go for a stroll. It’s time we got better acquainted.»

Fury almost choked her. «I am much too busy for a stroll.»

«Perhaps another time then.» Totally unfazed, Algernon bowed and walked away.

To calm herself, Evleen stood for a while looking out over the garden. It wasn’t long before she spied the raven, staring down at her from its perch in the nearby tree. Merlin. She longed to talk to him, especially after a day like this. Well, why not? She wasn’t going to perform any magic, only talk to the magician who had been her mentor since she was eight years old.

She reached to rub the blue pebble hidden beneath her bodice. Instantly the bearded old man appeared before her, his clasped hands nearly concealed by the flowing sleeves. «Why haven’t you called for me?» he asked.

«I have missed you but I must never use my magic in England,» she answered frankly. «They would never understand.»

«What is troubling you, child?» asked Merlin. «I see unhappiness in your eyes.»

«It’s that odious Algernon,» she quickly replied. «I cannot stand the sight of him.»

Merlin slowly shook his head. «It is true the man is odious, but you are quite capable of keeping him in his place. No, the cause of your unhappiness is not Algeron Kent, it’s Lord Beaumont with whom you’ve fallen in love.»

She knew better than to argue. «I should have known you knew. Then you are aware our love is hopeless.»

Merlin pondered a moment. «I could easily cast a spell over your Lord Beaumont, one that would make him decide to end his betrothal to Bettina and marry you.»

«No,» Evleen cried. «Richard is an honourable man. He would never forgive me if I resorted to such a cheap, shoddy trick. And besides, he would be an outcast and would receive the cut direct. I love him too much to put him through such a disgrace. You must promise you won’t.»

«As you wish,» Merlin replied. «Since you’re so insistent, I give you my promise that I shall never cast a spell over Richard Beaumont. Does that satisfy you?»

«Yes, it does,» she replied, greatly relieved.

«But you must call if you need me.»

«I won’t be needing you,» she said. «No magic can help me now.»

«We shall see.» Merlin gave her a nod goodbye. Then, like a puff of dust, he vanished from her sight.

The next morning, when Evleen came down for breakfast, she discovered that Lord Beaumont had left for London at the crack of dawn. He would remain in London for the opening of Parliament and not return until the eve of his wedding, one month hence. Despite her disappointment, Evleen knew his departure was for the best. Having to see him now would be pure torture. She hated the thought of having to witness Beaumont’s wedding to Bettina, but for Peter’s sake, she would.

That afternoon, Peter came to the gazebo alone, without Cromwell. «My dog is sick,» he said, his pale face strained. «He’s awfully sick and I don’t know what to do.»

«Let’s go see him,» said Evleen. Together they walked to the kennel where she found the Border collie lying limp on the ground, panting heavily. Obviously the dog was in great distress. She suspected it did not have long to live.

Peter sank beside him, tears streaming down his cheeks. «Please don’t die, Cromwell,» he cried in a voice that nearly broke her heart. He gazed with pleading eyes at Evleen. «Isn’t there something you can do to save him?»

She thought long and hard. Yes, of course there was something she could do, but she had promised never to use her magic again.

But on the other hand.

What would Peter do without his faithful friend who followed him wherever he went and offered nothing but boundless loyalty and love? The poor little boy had suffered a great loss when his mother died. Now Cromwell, too?

Evleen took the boy’s hand. «Come along, Peter, there’s someone I would like you to meet.»

Peter stood next to her in the gazebo. When she rubbed the blue pebble, Merlin appeared before them. «I see you brought the boy,» he said to Evleen.