Born Wicked

by Jessica Spotswood

Page 13

 

  Is she laughing at me? I’m offended until I look down at myself. My bodice is covered in dust from lying on the floor, my hair is falling into my face, and my hands are gray with dirt. It’s hardly how I want a prospective husband to see me.

  I stand, brushing the dust from my sleeves, trying to salvage some shred of dignity. “Yes, I believe I shall. Please tell Paul I’ll be with him directly. ”

  In the privacy of my room, I wipe off Mother’s diary with shaking hands. If it were any other caller, I’d feign illness and spend the afternoon reading. No one would dream I’d stay indoors for anything other than sickness. I’m desperate to know what advice she’s left for me. I was so young when she died, only thirteen, and still such a child. The three years until I had to declare an intention loomed like thirty, especially without her. I wouldn’t have listened to anything she said about marriage and husbands then; perhaps she was clever enough to know it, and she wrote down her words of motherly wisdom instead. My nerves jangle in anticipation like the keys on Mrs. O’Hare’s belt.

  But it’s Paul. I can’t put him off. The thought irks me. Never mind that he’s keptmewaiting for four years. I pull on one of my nicest day dresses, a dark gray with a pale-blue sash and blue lace at the collar. I fix my hair as best I can, then head downstairs to the sitting room.

  Paul is there, his long legs spread out in front of him. Elena has disappeared—presumably for her chat with Father about our curriculum. Maura and Tess crowd together on the sofa, chattering like magpies, firing rapid questions at Paul about New London. He takes up more room than I had remembered. He seems very—male, with his beard and his tall black leather riding boots and the deep timbre of his voice, dwarfing the highbacked blue brocade chair he sits in. I suppose I’m very used to living among women, with Father away so much. Not that we are very quiet women.

  Paul stands when he sees me, taking both my hands in his. “Cate,” he says, looking at me appreciatively.

  He’s seen me covered in slop from the pigpen. He’s seen my hands and face smeared with strawberries. We used to roll down the grassy knoll beyond the pond until our clothes were stained green. But he’s never looked at me like this. It makes me suddenly aware of every inch of myself.

  “That dress is just the color of your eyes. You’re lovely. ” He says it easily, confidently. As though he’s used to telling girls they’re lovely.

  I flush and pull away. I’m not used to hearing it, and I can’t quite reconcile this earnest, admiring man with the mischievous boy I remember. “Thank you. ”

  “Tess tells me your father’s building a gazebo down by the pond. I should like to see the progress. ”

  “It’s barely begun. They only erected the frame yesterday. ”

  “Still. I’ve missed the country air. Come for a walk with me?”

  Oh. He doesn’t want to see the gazebo so much as he wants to go for a walk with me. Alone. Paul was never terribly subtle.

  “Can I come?” Tess asks. I open my mouth to say yes, but Maura elbows her. Tess lets out an angry squeak, and the next moment Maura’s on the floor in a heap of skirts.

  “Teresa Elizabeth Cahill!” I scold. I don’t know exactly what she’s done, but I’m sure she used magic to do it. “We have aguest!” I say, pointing emphatically at Paul.

  He just grins, his mouth quirking below his new mustache. New to me, anyway—who knows how long he’s had it. “No, no, carry on,” he says. “I’m not a true guest. I’m practically family. ”

  Maura arches her eyebrows at me, but I scowl. “Youarea guest. Don’t encourage them. And you two ought to be ashamed of yourselves. You’re too old for this. Tess, apologize. ”

  “She started it,” Tess argues, rubbing her side.

  “Because you were being a ninny,” Maura says. “Paul doesn’t want to go for a walk with all three of us. He came to call on Cate. ”

  Tess gives Maura a good pinch. “I’m not a ninny! I’m cleverer than you!”

  “You’re hopeless, both of you. Perhaps you ought to go and ask Elena about the proper etiquette for entertaining callers. ” I take Paul’s arm and feel his muscles twitch beneath my palm. “A walk would be delightful. Please. Before I murder them both. ”

  I mean to sweep out dramatically, but somehow the doorsill drops away and I lift my foot into empty air. I trip forward, narrowly avoiding rapping my skull on the hall table and destroying an heirloom vase that belonged to Great-Grandmother. Instead, Paul catches me. In fact, he holds me closer than is entirely necessary. I hear a titter behind me and spin around to see Maura, her hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking. Even Tess can’t suppress a smile.

  Lord help me, my sisters are evil and my best friend’s become a rake.

  We reach the front hall just as Elena pops out of Father’s study. “Miss Cate, let me fetch your cloak. Would you like Miss Maura to accompany you on your walk?”

  “No, thank you. ” As if I haven’t gone for hundreds of walks alone with Paul—in the garden, chasing each other through the cornfields, playing hideand-seek through blueberry bushes.

  Elena eyes us, and I’m suddenly conscious of the distance, or lack thereof, between our bodies. “I’m afraid I must insist that you take a chaperone. I can come with you if you’d like. ”

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. I hardly worry that Paul will ravish me in the gardens.

  “Don’t forget your gloves,” Elena adds.

  I flush, remember the warmth of Paul’s mouth on the thin, delicate skin at the inside of my wrist. Perhaps she’s right. We’re not children anymore. The way Paul looks at me—it’s like he remembers that kiss, too, and might enjoy taking other liberties if I were to allow it. No man’s ever looked at me like that before. It’s a heady feeling.

  Still, I don’t care to have Elena telling me what to do, much less following us and eavesdropping on our conversation. I feel nervous enough as it is.

  “Where’s Lily? Lily!” I call.

  Our maid appears from the kitchen, wiping wet hands on her apron. “Miss Cate? I was just helping Mrs. O’Hare with the dinner pre—”

  “Never mind that. Grab your cloak. Mr. McLeod and I need a chaperone for our walk. ”

  Lily has great meek brown eyes, like a cow’s. “Yes, miss. ”

  Once I’m properly cloaked, Paul and I stroll through the gardens, Lily following at a discreet distance. Geese fly overhead in inky formations, honking against the eggshell sky.

  “I’m sorry about all that mayhem. My sisters—”

  “Are adorable girls, as ever,” Paul finishes. “No need to apologize. ”

  “They’re ill-mannered beasts!” After witnessing their behavior today in front of both Elena and Paul, I’m starting to believe we may actually require a governess.

  “They’re high-spirited,” Paul says. “It must be grand, having sisters. You’re lucky. Being an only child is lonely. ”

  I don’t remember a time before Maura was toddling after me, pulling at my hair, stuffing my toys in her mouth. “Is it?”

  “At times. Take Father’s debts. If I’d had a brother to share the burden, to confide in—it would have been a relief. ”