The Bane Chronicles

Edmund blinked.

 

“I fear I must point out that you are walking the streets armed to the teeth. Did you expect to do battle with a monstrous creature this night?”

 

“Not ‘expect’ exactly,” said Edmund.

 

“Then are you an assassin?” asked Linette. “Are you an overzealous soldier?”

 

“Madam,” said Edmund. “I am a Shadowhunter.”

 

“I am not familiar with the word. Can you do magic?” Linette asked, and placed her hand on Magnus’s sleeve. “This gentleman can do magic.”

 

She bestowed an approving smile on Magnus. Magnus was extremely gratified.

 

“Honored to be of assistance, Miss Owens,” he murmured.

 

Edmund looked as if he had been struck about the face with a fish.

 

“Of course—of course I can’t do magic!” he managed to splutter out, sounding in true Shadowhunter fashion appalled by the very idea.

 

“Oh, well,” said Linette, clearly rather disappointed. “That is not your fault. We all make do with what we have. I am indebted to you, sir, for saving me and my friend from an unspeakable fate.”

 

Edmund preened, and in his pleasure spoke incautiously. “Think nothing of it. It would be my honor to escort you to your home, Miss Owens. The streets about Mall Pall can be very treacherous for women at night.”

 

There was a silence.

 

“Do you mean Pall Mall?” Linette asked, and smiled slightly. “I am not the one overset by strong liquor. Should you like me to escort you home instead, Mr. Herondale?”

 

Edmund Herondale was left at a loss for words. Magnus suspected it was a novel experience, and one that would probably be good for him.

 

Miss Owens turned slightly from Edmund back to Magnus.

 

“My abigail, Angharad, and I were traveling from my estate in Wales,” she explained. “We are to spend the London season with a distant relative of mine. We have had a long and tiring journey, and I wished to believe that we might reach London before nightfall. It was very stupid and reckless of me, and it has caused Angharad great distress. Your aid was invaluable.”

 

Magnus could discern a great deal more from what Linette Owens had told him than what the lady had actually said. She had referred not to her papa’s estate but to her own, in a casual manner, as one accustomed to ownership. That combined with the costly material of her dress and a certain something about her bearing confirmed it for Magnus—the lady was an heiress, and not simply the heiress of a fortune but of an estate. The way she spoke of Wales made Magnus think the lady would not wish to have her lands cared for by some steward at a remove. Society would think it a scandal and a shame for an estate to be in the hands of a woman, especially one so young and so pretty. Society would expect her to contract a marriage so that her husband could administer the estate, take possession of both the land and the lady.

 

She must have come to London because she’d found the suitors available in Wales not to her taste, and was on a quest to find a husband to take back to Wales with her.

 

She had come to London in search of love.

 

Magnus could sympathize with that. He was aware that love was not always part of the bargain in high-society marriages, but Linette Owens seemed to have a mind of her own. He thought it likely she had a purpose—the right marriage, to the right man—and that she would accomplish it.

 

“Welcome to London,” Magnus told her.

 

Linette dropped a small curtsy in the open carriage. Her eyes traveled over Magnus’s shoulder and softened. Magnus looked around, and Edmund was standing there, one whip curled around his wrist as if he were comforting himself with it. Magnus had to admit it was a feat to look so gloriously handsome and yet so woebegone.

 

Linette visibly yielded to a charitable impulse and stepped out of the carriage. She made her way across the cobblestones and stood before the forlorn young Shadowhunter.

 

“I am sorry if I was uncivil, or if I in any way implied I thought you were a . . . twpsyn,” said Linette, tactfully not translating the word.

 

She put her hand out, and Edmund offered his, palm up and whip still curled around his shirt-sleeved wrist. There was a sudden hungry openness to his face; the moment had a sudden weight. Linette hesitated and then placed her hand in his.

 

“I am very much obliged to you for saving me and Angharad from a dreadful fate. Truly I am,” said Linette. “Again, I apologize if I was ungracious.”

 

“I will give you leave to be as ungracious as you choose,” Edmund said. “If I can see you again.”

 

He looked down at her, not making play with his eyelashes. His face was naked and open.

 

The moment turned. Edmund’s serious, humble honesty did what eyelashes and swagger had not, and made Linette Owens hesitate.

 

“You can pay a call at 26 Eaton Square, at Lady Caroline Harcourt’s,” she said. “If you still wish to in the morning.”

 

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