The Marriage Spell Read Online Free

wasn’t like her to be forgetful, but she’d been having trouble concentrating all morning. She had the itchy feeling that something was wrong.
    Unfortunately she had no talent for precognition, so she had no idea what had happened or was about to happen. She didn’t even know who was affected. Not her brother, she was sure, despite the dangerous work he was doing in Spain. Perhaps her father, who was in London now? She didn’t think so, but it was hard to be sure. She shook her head in frustration. There were too many possibilities.
    She heard hounds baying not far from the house. Maybe her unease signaled a hunting accident, though usually she didn’t notice those because they didn’t affect her. Once her father had called on the master of the hunt and offered their services as healers in the event of injuries in the field. The master, a duke, had rebuffed the offer curtly. Sir Andrew had told his daughter dryly that it was clear the duke would rather see members of his hunt die than entrust their treatment to wizards.
    Abby shrugged and returned to grinding the cardamom. Wizards became accustomed to the contempt of the upper classes, particularly upper-class males. Her private thought was that if they were too snobbish to avail themselves of the benefits of magic, they deserved to die off quickly and leave the world to people with fewer prejudices. Not that she would dare say such a thing aloud. She’d learned early from her parents that practicing wizards needed to be discreet.
    There had always been magic, of course, but in Western Europe, the influence of the Church had suppressed it for hundreds of years. Apart from village wisewomen who delivered babies and made herbal potions, magic had disappeared from public view. Then came the fourteenth century and the black death.
    As the disease devastated whole nations, wizards had broken their long silence to minister to their neighbors. Often they worked side by side with priests and nuns, struggling to save lives as the religious folk struggled to save souls. Clerics came to accept that magical gifts came from God, not the devil. A bond of trust and tolerance was forged between wizards and clerics—especially since so many priests and nuns turned out to be wizards themselves.
    Though the black death killed a third of Europe, it was widely recognized that without wizardly healers, the toll would have been far higher. In England, Edward III had issued an official proclamation thanking the wizards for their work, which had saved the lives of himself, his queen, and most of his children.
    Other European sovereigns had followed suit. Magic became generally accepted at all levels of society, except among aristocrats, who hated anything they couldn’t control. Occasionally wizards became the targets of riots and persecutions, but on the whole, they were respected citizens. Abby’s father was even a baronet, an honor granted an ancestor who had served a king. Though being known as a wizard wasn’t always safe, most of the magically gifted preferred to live openly, honestly—and discreetly.
    Having remembered that she was making a potion to improve physical energy, she reached next for a cinnamon stick. There were many such potions, so she figured that she might as well make one that tasted good.
    She was about to add ginger when she heard pounding at the front door.
It’s happened!
Her unease crystallized into certainty. Not bothering to remove her apron, she raced from her workroom and down the stairs. A footman opened the door, revealing several red-coated hunters carrying an unconscious body on a woven wood hurdle ripped from a field.
    Brushing past the footman, Abby said, “Someone has had a bad fall?”
    The man in front, a lean, dark fellow with compelling green eyes, said, “Very bad. I’ve heard that Sir Andrew is a healer. Will he help?”
    â€œMy father is in London, but I am also a healer. Bring him