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of retreating backs. Friends and neighbors, grown men, dowagers, children—all rejected her. Some faces showed regret, but they still turned away.
    With a single act, she had been transformed from “one of us” to “one of them. ”
    The Reverend Fisk, Louisa’s father, held her gaze for a long moment. Tory spent so much time at the vicarage that the Fisks called her their second daughter.
    His lips tightened to a thin line, and Tory knew she’d been judged and condemned. “I never suspected you had bad blood,” he said coldly before he pivoted and walked away. Mrs. Fisk did the same, though her expression was sad.
    Desperately, Tory looked for Louisa. Surely her best friend wouldn’t reject her!
    Louisa stood next to Frederick Mason, shock and revulsion distorting her pretty face. “Tory, how could you!”
    No, not Louisa, too! As her friend took Mr. Mason’s arm and fled, Tory cried out, her voice breaking, “Please, Louisa! I’m no different now than I was yesterday! I didn’t ask to be like this!”
    Louisa didn’t look back.
    Edmund Harford looked appalled and repulsed, though there was a hint of regret in his eyes. Then he spun on his heel and marched away, leaving only Tory’s family.
    Lord Roger and Sarah stared at each other, not Tory. His expression was anguished. Weeping, Sarah reached toward him uncertainly. Slowly he took her hand, but as they walked toward the house together, their heads were bowed with misery.
    Worst of all, Tory’s parents watched with devastation in their eyes. Tory sensed that her mother was also afraid. Frightened for Tory? Or did she fear Tory would reveal that her mother was a mage?
    Her father approached with heavy steps. Tall and aristocratic, he had been born to authority, but now he’d aged two decades in as many minutes. “You must go to Lackland Abbey. I hope they can cure you quickly and reduce the damage to our family name,” he said brusquely. “Be ready to leave first thing in the morning.” Back erect, he took his wife’s arm and led the way back to the house.
    Only her brother and his wife were left, Jamie secure in his mother’s arms. Geoffrey rose and pulled Tory into a hug. She burrowed into him, unable to control her tears. “Geoff, what will I do? Everyone despises me!”
    “I don’t,” he said in a choked voice. “I’ll never forget what you’ve sacrificed to save my son, Tory. You will always be welcome in my home.”
    “Always,” Cecilia echoed as she got to her feet. “If Lord Fairmount is … difficult, you may come to us when you leave Lackland.” Her shaky smile showed gratitude and full awareness of Tory’s plight. “Now I must get Jamie inside and warm him up.”
    Geoffrey wrapped a powerful arm around his wife and son. “You’re a heroine, Tory. I … I hope that’s some comfort.”
    Her brother and his small family walked away. Jamie peered over his mother’s shoulder. His tearstained face brightened as he waved good-bye before subsiding back into Cecilia’s arms.
    Tory was alone on the cliff. Shaking, she turned to the sea. The gray-green waves were as familiar as her own heartbeat. Would anyone mourn if she walked off this cliff? She was a mageling, an embarrassment to her family and friends. Everything would be so much simpler if she was gone.
    So much simpler …
    Appalled at her thoughts, she swore an oath that would have shocked her parents. Bedamned to them all! She couldn’t help the way she was born. She would not give those who rejected her the satisfaction of destroying herself.
    Lady Victoria Mansfield would go to Lackland Abbey and learn to control her magic. She would be home and cured before anyone missed her. She’d be so beautiful and charming that heirs to dukedoms would beg for her hand in marriage.
    And if the Dishonorable Edmund Harford tried to apologize and make up for treating her so shabbily, she’d … she’d kick him.

 
    CHAPTER 4

    Tory slept like the dead after returning to her