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  Bewitched by a Miss

  Jane Charles

  Bewitched by a Miss Copyright © 2022 by Jane Charles

  Cover Design by Lily Smith

  All Rights Reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

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  About Bewitched by a Miss

  Damon Norcott, Viscount Bentford was expected to marry a witch. Coming from a family where the females were born with magical abilities, and the men were not, it was expected that the males would take a witch as a bride to offer protection. However, the unexpected murder of his brother and sister-in-law also left Damon with three nieces to raise and he vowed not to marry for ten years, after the youngest had entered Society.

  Miss Cordelia Vail is not a witch but believes in all things magical. If one lived in Bocka Morrow the existence of ghosts, witches, pixies, and mermaids were a fact, not myth. However, Cordelia had never experienced or witnessed any of the magic. That is, not until the day the Norcott family arrived. Smitten nearly at first sight, Cordelia did her best to ignore the powerful draw to the family, and particularly Viscount Bentford.

  When the two meet, a bond and friendship is almost instant, as well as trust. Fate set them on a path to meet, but powerful elements stand in their way, which could destroy not one, but both of them.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Thank you

  Excerpt: Her Gypsy Lord

  Historical Romances by Jane Charles

  Contemporary Romances by Jane Charles

  About Jane Charles

  To Jerrica, my favorite person in the whole world. I wouldn’t be who I am today if it wasn’t for you.

  (Note, the above was added by my very first critique partner - who, as you can see, continues to critique

  and edit - lol.)

  * * *

  To Robin Christ, Sheree Doran, Laura Legace, and Sharon Wester Hubbuch for their suggestion of poison and an iron cross when I was stuck. Reader groups are the best!

  Prologue

  Courtland Hall, Whitfield, Kent, England ~ October 31, 1810

  * * *

  Damon Norcott cradled a glass of brandy, staring into the amber liquid, but unable to take even a sip.

  “We’ve asked each servant, but nobody saw anything,” Jerome, the butler announced.

  Damon looked to the kitchen maid perched upon the emerald brocade chair. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she continued to wipe her nose with the handkerchief his brother had provided. “Are you certain you saw nothing, May?” Damon asked.

  Tears welled again and she shook her head before she answered. “Nobody, Lord Damon. I swear.”

  “What did you see?” Perhaps she had seen something important but didn’t realize it.

  “Cook sent me out to ask… Lady Bentford…” she paused as her lower lip and chin began to tremble. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and trailed down the side of her cheek. ”…about supper…” May dabbed her eyes and Damon wondered if she would be able to tell them anything without once again dissolving into a fit of emotions. Not that he blamed her. What she’d discovered had been horrifying and he’d not yet come to terms with what had happened.

  Damon’s younger brother, Ajax, or Jax as he liked to be called, pressed a glass of brandy into May’s hand. There was barely enough liquid to fill a thimble, but perhaps it would help the girl.

  She looked down into the glass, held it, but didn’t drink. “The gate was unlatched and open,” she said quietly, then looked up, brown eyes puzzled with concern.

  That would have been the first sign that something was amiss. The gate was always to be latched, even if someone was within the gardens. Only a few had permission to enter, and May was one of them.

  “I walked the main path and called for her, but…she never answered.” The maid’s eyes flooded with tears again. “I looked until…until…”

  “You don’t have to say more,” Damon’s father, the Marquess of Chandos insisted.

  It was May’s screams that had alerted Damon. He and Lord Rupert Whitworth had just returned from a ride, and both ran toward his mother’s walled garden.

  Damon wished he could block the memory of what he’d seen. His brother, Evander, crumpled to the ground and lying on his side, blood in his hair and pooled in the dirt beneath him. Damon had started to rush toward Evander, but Whitworth had put a hand on his chest, halting him.

  “Wait. We don’t want to disturb anything.”

  Just beyond Evander was his wife, Rhea, lying at an odd angle, but her face tipped to the sky, blue eyes open and unblinking.

  She was dead, but that didn’t mean Evander was.

  Damon tried to go around Whitworth once again, but the baron stepped in his way. “I will examine Lord Bentford, you do not move.”

  In most instances, Damon would not obey anyone’s dictate, especially when the safety and health of a brother was concerned. In this instance, however, besides being a friend and neighbor, Whitworth was also the local physician and coroner. He was only to be a physician, but when he unexpectedly inherited the title of Baron, in addition to having wealth and land, he’d been appointed coroner for the area a year earlier.

  Whitworth stood silently, but quickly studied the area before he approached Evander. After he rolled his brother, Whitworth first placed a hand on his chest, then fingers on his neck.

  By the way Whitworth’s eyes closed, and his shoulders dropped, Damon had confirmation that his brother was dead as well.

  Whitworth stayed squatted, balanced on his toes, and studied the ground and surrounding foliage.

  “I will take care of your brother and sister-in-law,” Whitworth said quietly, his voice heavy with the weight of this discovery. “You should return to the manor and inform your father. Lock the gate behind you and do not let anyone else come in here.”

  Damon had just stood there. “What if the assailant is still here?” The garden was large, and trees and bushes could shield a person hiding. “We should search.”

  “I doubt that they are, but they cannot get out without using the gate so post a man to keep watch.”

/>   “What of you?” If the murderer was still about, there was no guarantee they’d not kill Whitworth as well.

  “It is unlikely the assailant is still here. I estimate that your brother died over an hour ago.”

  “How could you know?” Damon demanded then reconsidered his question. “Don’t tell me.” He didn’t want to know why Whitworth had made his conclusion. One day perhaps, but not now.

  “Send a servant to stay with me if you are concerned. I will also need their assistance but tell them to stay back until I ask for their help.”

  This would be Whitworth’s first murder investigation. He’d not been called to do any in his position as coroner since there hadn’t been any suspicious deaths in the surrounding area. “What of a magistrate?” Damon asked.

  “He is not needed,” Whitworth stated as he came to his feet. “Any violent death becomes the responsibility of the coroner to investigate. If we find any reliable witnesses, I will hold an inquest, but I first must examine the bodies and the area, then speak with your servants.”

  “Very well,” Damon mumbled before he exited his mother’s special garden—her witch’s garden—filled with all manner of plants, both safe and deadly, and used for teas, soaps, lotions, sachets, and spells.

  His father had just been coming from the manor and Damon tried to keep him from entering.

  Damon knew that his brother and sister-in-law were dead, but he didn’t know why and didn’t want his father to see them that way. Though, it was impossible to shield his family because the Marquess of Chandos had demanded to see his eldest son and had stormed into the garden but stopped when Whitworth asked him to. He and Damon had then left and returned to the manor. Both were shaken, but his father hadn’t hesitated in issuing orders to search the estate and calling the rest of the family together to be assured of their safety. They’d then summoned May because she had discovered the bodies.

  Unfortunately, she had no information to assist them in catching who had done this.

  “You may go, May,” his father said.

  The maid slid out of her seat and hastened from the room, nearly colliding with Whitworth who was just joining them.

  “It was murder by an intruder,” Whitworth announced as he came into the library.

  “Of course, it was.” Damon had already assumed as much.

  “I will be honest. At first, the scenario presented differently.”

  Damon frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I thought perhaps Lady Bentford had struck Lord Bentford on the back of the head to kill him and then ate the Atropa Bella-donna berries to end her own life.”

  “My daughter-in-law would never do such a thing,” his father raged. “I cannot believe you would suggest such.”

  Neither could Damon.

  “The bloody stone was beside her,” Whitworth claimed as he walked to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy. “But, given her hands were tied behind her back, she could not have killed herself.”

  “Her hands were tied?” Jax asked in alarm.

  “Yes, odd that. Therefore, I assume there were two culprits at least,” Whitworth suggested. “One to strike Lord Bentford, and another to subdue Lady Bentford. He then forced the berries into her mouth. I’ve no idea how many she was forced to eat, but there were still some in her mouth.”

  Damon finally took a drink of his brandy, welcoming the burn and warmth and hoped that it would numb him to these events.

  “There is also the possibility that the murderer was already with Lady Bentford when Lord Bentford stumbled upon them, and that could be the reason he’d been killed. I am not certain the order of events.”

  They might never know unless they were able to find the murderers. Damon also had full confidence that if anyone could uncover the truth of the matter it was Whitworth. He’d always had an analytical mind, which was the reason he’d been drawn to medicine.

  “What I didn’t understand was why tie Lady Bentford’s hands,” Whitworth continued. “She is dainty and would have easily been overpowered.”

  Damon looked to his father and their eyes met. Without the use of her hands, Rhea was unable to protect herself. They had taken her power.

  “A message,” their butler announced as he delivered it to Damon’s father. After breaking the seal, his father unfolded the parchment. As he read, the marquess lost all color and the document slipped from his hands.

  Damon picked it up and Jax leaned over, which Damon assumed was to read it as well. He took a deep breath and hoped it didn’t contain more unsettling news.

  The loss of your son was an unfortunate circumstance. However, Viscount Bentford, should have realized the dangers that marrying a witch may hold.

  Thankfully, your granddaughters did not inherit the same wickedness, sin and evil from their mother, and England is now free of one more witch.

  Damon’s blood ran cold. How dare they accuse his sister-in-law of wickedness and evil when they had intentionally committed murder!

  “Is there something I should know?” Whitworth asked.

  Damon stared at his father, waiting for how he chose to answer the question.

  “It was a madman,” his father finally said, then took the note from Damon and held it out to Whitworth.

  “Witches! Good God, this is no longer the fifteenth century,” Whitworth proclaimed after reading the missive. “That explains why I found this lying on Lady Bentford’s chest.” He retrieved a cross from his pocket.

  “I don’t understand,” Jax said.

  “Iron has been used for centuries to repel witches. By placing this iron cross over her heart, I’m certain they assumed something ridiculous as that it would keep her soul inside.” Whitworth shook his head and rolled his eyes. “We are clearly in search of madmen if they truly believed Lady Bentford was a witch. They are also likely searching for a place to stay for the night. If they believe in witches, they’ll be too afraid to be out after dark on All Hallow’s Eve.” Whitworth tipped back the glass and finished his brandy. “I’ll investigate and ask if anyone has seen a stranger in the area recently.”

  Damon had no doubt that whoever had done this was long gone. He was just as certain that they’d not been in the village for fear of being noticed or identified. As much as Damon hoped that they’d be caught, he was just as certain they never would be.

  “I’ll be by tomorrow to question your servants as I’m certain they are too upset to answer my questions today.”

  “When can we take my brother and sister-in-law to be buried?” Jax asked.

  “You may have them now. I have no need to examine them further.”

  Thank goodness his mother and sisters had taken Evander’s young daughters to Nightshade Manor in Cornwall, or they may have been in danger, or witnessed the deaths of their parents. He was just as glad that his brother, Ares, was with them for protection and that their youngest brother, Thanatos was away at Eton and sheltered from what had happened here.

  Only one question remained, and one to which they may never have the answer: how did the murderer know that Rhea was a witch?

  “I’ll keep you apprised of my investigation,” Whitworth said as he left.

  “We need to travel to Nightshade Manor immediately,” Damon announced.

  His father looked at him as fear flooded the depths of his eyes.

  “If they learned of Rhea, can we be certain they know nothing about mother or my sisters?” He took a drink then set his glass aside. “I will leave now. I can travel quicker on horseback than in a carriage. You and Jax arrange to have Evander and Rhea taken to Cornwall.”

  “Yes.” His father stood. “We’ll take my son and daughter-in-law to be buried at Nightshade Manor. If my wife is unharmed, we will assume her secret is not known, though we will be even more diligent in making certain that it is never learned.”

  Damon paused at the entry. “Someone should send for Thanatos.”

  “We will get him from Eton on our way to Cornwall,” Jax
promised. “I will keep everyone safe and send word to our cousins.”

  Damon’s stomach tightened. Not only was he worried for his mother and sisters, but any female on his mother’s side, or any female with Drakos blood.

  Chapter 1

  Courtland Hall, Whitfield, Kent, England ~ Summer, 1813

  * * *

  “Uncle Damon, please let me attend. I promise not to be a bother,” Ianthe begged.

  She’d recently turned twelve and wanted so badly to grow up. Damon Norcott, Viscount Bentford, wasn’t nearly as eager for her to do so, and if it were in his power, he’d slow time. If he actually had magical powers, which he did not, he’d return them all to three years earlier, to 1810, and before that fateful day his brother and sister-in-law had been murdered. Maybe he’d be able to alter the events and his nieces wouldn’t have become orphans.

  But they had been killed and the murderers had never been caught.

  “Grandmother is having a fête champêtre for her friends…adult friends.”

  With a huff, Ianthe crossed her arms over her chest and flopped onto a chair. “I do not see why I cannot attend the garden party too.”

  “You will when you are seventeen. Then I will present you to the world.” It would be his duty since Damon had been named guardian of his oldest brother’s three daughters. Not that he was opposed to the Season. His objection came when it required that he be in attendance at the same entertainments as his mother and her incessant matchmaking.