I swallowed hard.
“Well, then.” I drew a deep, steadying breath. Really, I didn’t even know why I had shivered. It was ridiculously overheated in this ballroom, and the dance hadn’t even begun.
Alexander still hadn’t said what I was waiting to hear, though. Clearly Mr. Gregson hadn’t run him through the expected lines of proper conversation for the evening the way my sisters had with me.
Of course, the lines they’d prepared for me to say to my dance partners had been a whole batch of ridiculous inanities about the weather and the ballroom’s decorations. Instead of wasting our time with any of that nonsense, I prompted, much more helpfully, “So, do you or don’t you like my gown?”
His gaze lowered…then snapped back up again, as if he’d been burned. “Of course I like your gown,” he muttered.
I snorted. “Well, I hope you haven’t injured yourself by admitting to it.”
Really, he would have had to be mad not to like the gown. Even I liked it, and I almost never felt anything about my clothing, apart from irritation when it tore on a bramble or got in my way during a chase. I especially liked the pale gold undergown, which was only half-hidden beneath a white net overlay. It reminded me of the Golden Hall, like a perfectly veiled reminder of my own magical secret underneath the maidenly white exterior of my gown.
The gold chenille embroidery around the bosom was really very nice, though, too—and in fact, I quite liked the fact that I actually had a proper bosom, for once, with the fashionable new corset that Madame Fontaine had provided for me.
But Alexander was looking down at me now with rather more exasperation than admiration on his face. “Has it even occurred to you yet,” he demanded, as the music finally began, “that I have no right to like the way that you look in that gown?”
“Don’t be absurd.” I let out a decidedly unladylike snort as I moved forward to take his hand in the dance. “My sister Elissa’s modiste is a genius. I know that because she told me so herself, twice. She would be violently outraged if anyone in this room failed to like my gown tonight.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw as we circled each other. “I’m not supposed to be in this room, though, remember? I wouldn’t be, if anyone else knew who I truly was.”
“Well, that’s just snobbery,” I said. “At any rate, half the people in this room have secrets. Yours is far less embarrassing than most of theirs.”
Alexander’s gaze challenged mine. “I doubt your family would agree.”
“My family?” I blinked. “What do they have to do with anything?”
But the movements of the dance parted us before he could answer. When we touched hands again a few minutes later, Alexander’s face looked as stiff as the most aristocratic of statues.
“What’s got into you?” I said. “Did someone step on your feet?”
“No,” he bit out.
“You said, about my family—”
“Shouldn’t we be thinking of our mission?” Alexander said. He set his hand on my back as we followed the figures of the dance, pressing tingling heat into my skin through all the layers of my gown, corset, and shift, but the expression on his face looked as remote as the Outer Hebrides.
I frowned up at him. “But—”
My voice cut off as his eyes met mine, blazing with an anger—or was it hurt?—that I couldn’t understand. “It’s the only reason we’re here together tonight,” he said. “Isn’t it?”
Oh.
“Of course,” I said. Suddenly the sweltering ballroom felt cold. “What else could there be?”
Obviously, Alexander hadn’t been foolish enough to spend the last five years dreaming about a single kiss on the hand. He’d probably kissed dozens of other girls’ hands by now, anyway. It had probably only been a momentary whim on his part, or a way to show his gratitude for the fact that I’d helped him out of a difficult situation. There probably hadn’t been anything romantic about it at all in his mind. Why would he want me falling all over him now?
And more importantly, why was this dance not over yet? My skin was ready to tear itself apart with the urge to escape.
I had been in training for years to be a lady, though, so I held my head high and I didn’t scowl or cry as I said, “Have you sensed any signs of him yet?”
Because that, of course, was the only reason Alexander was here: so he could identify the witch who’d cut a magical swathe through the servants’ halls of half a dozen great houses around the country and was now disguising himself as a member of high society to commit far more expensive thefts.
Of course, the problem with a master of illusions was that even Alexander didn’t know what the fellow really looked like. Every witch had a particular scent to their magic, though, like a personal signature, which another trained magic-user could recognize…and Alexander had come across that signature once before, when the rascal had slipped away just in time.
His face tightened into a wince at my question. “I feel like a hound set loose in public to sniff my way around. I haven’t scented him yet, but with all the people packed into this ballroom, not to mention all the smells and noise…”
“No, you couldn’t possibly pick him out from across the room,” I said. “I can see that now. We’ll have to think up some strategy to track his behavior and work from there.” I spotted a golden head next to a red head, not far away, and my shoulders relaxed with the prospect of escape. “Look, there are the other two.” Through the crowd, I caught the eyes of the toplofty Marquess of Lanham and gave him a meaningful look. He nodded back, his expression filled with ennui, while the loathsome Mr. Packenham gave me an undisguised leer across the room. “I’ll dance with one of them next,” I began, “and—”
“Of course you will,” Alexander muttered.
I blinked at him. “What’s wrong with you now?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Forgive me. It must be the heat.”
“Hmm.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been acting out of sorts all evening.”
He gave me a tight smile. “Perhaps you’ve simply noticed that I’m out of place.”
“You don’t have to be.” Our hands pressed against each other as we circled one last time, heat burning through my glove. “You don’t look out of place right now.”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Alexander said. “Our mission is proof enough of that.” He sighed, his voice dropping. “You look…remarkable, though.” His green eyes met mine, intent and focused as his head tipped above me, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. “No one would ever question that you belong here.”
I rolled my eyes, forcing myself to laugh through my absurdly tight chest. “Well, that shows how little you remember about me.”
The music came to an end, and Alexander bowed over my hand as every other gentleman in the set bowed to his own partner. “I remember every moment I spent with you five years ago,” he murmured, so softly I could barely hear him. “How could I forget? I spent the last five years waiting to meet you again.” His smile looked lopsided as he straightened. “I suppose I’d just forgotten what the rest of your life was really like, until tonight. It’s been a salutary reminder of reality.”
“‘Reality?’” I repeated, faintly, as he tucked my hand into his arm and started to draw me through the crowd. The press of the throng forced us so close, his arm pushed against my side, as warm and strong as if it could hold me up forever.
What kind of reality was he even talking about? My feet felt so light, I felt as if I could have floated instead of walking. In fact, my whole body was filled with the most extraordinary sensations. The tone of his voice, the expression on his face, and his words…could his words have actually meant—?
Oh, no! My brain belatedly clicked into working order. “Wait!” I said. “What you said about reality, and the rest of my life—you don’t really think I—?”
But it was too late. We had reached my family, and both the Marquess and Mr. Packenham were waiting for
us.
“There you are!” Stepmama fluttered her fan madly as we arrived. “Katherine, dear, these two young men have been waiting so patiently for an introduction to you!” She gave Alexander a distracted nod as she tugged me away from him, forcing me to release his arm. “How very kind of you to escort Katherine back to us, Mr…ah…”
“Harding,” Angeline supplied. She had an amused quirk to her lips, but she didn’t step forward to intervene.
“As you say, I’m sure.” Waving her fan dismissively, Stepmama moved behind me, pushing me toward the other gentlemen and blocking Alexander entirely. “Mr. Carlyle, will you make the introductions?”
“Of course.” Frederick took my arm and nudged me gently into a curtsy. “Kat,” he began, “may I present…?”
But I barely heard a word of the introductions that followed. Every inch of my body was attuned to Alexander’s silent figure as he stood, alone, watching my family surround me…then turned and walked away.
CHAPTER FIVE
Of course, with my luck, Mr. Packenham asked me for two dances, not just one. Worse yet, under Stepmama’s watchful gaze, I couldn’t turn him down for either of them. Ladies, apparently, were never allowed to say no in these matters, no matter how much they might wish to. Still, I could at least take comfort in the fact that the Marquess had secured my hand for the supper dance. If I had to sit next to one of my fellow Guardians for a full meal, I would infinitely prefer cold condescension to being leered at.
It was the leerer who swept me into the first dance, though, grinning down at my propped-up bosom. “I say, this is rather jolly, isn’t it? Generally I find missions awfully tedious, but not this one! You know, to properly convince everyone that I’m really courting you, I probably ought to take you outside for some fresh air after this set, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t,” I said firmly. “My family would not approve.”
“Young love, though, eh, what? Can’t be too strict, can they, if they want to pop you off with a good husband.” He chortled. “At any rate, I’ve heard rumors that at least one of your older sisters was rather wild in her time, eh? They’re both prime lookers, aren’t they?” He twirled me down the set with more vigor than was strictly necessary. “You really do look smashing tonight, Miss Stephenson. If I hadn’t seen you before, I’d never have guessed—”
“Mister Packenham.” With an effort, I restrained myself from yanking my hand free. “Shouldn’t we discuss our mission?”
“Must we?” Mr. Packenham sighed. “Deuced boring things, missions. If we’d only been born into different families, you know, we could relax and enjoy ourselves on a night like this. Dancing and gaming without a care in the world…”
I looked at him in disbelief. “You’d really rather dance than fight magical battles?”
“Who wouldn’t?” Then his gaze drifted past me, and he snorted. “Well, I daresay that ramshackle fellow you shared the last set with probably doesn’t care for dancing, does he? He certainly wasn’t born to it, no matter how much money the Order laid out to trick him out in a gentleman’s clothes for our mission. I’m surprised you managed to last through a whole set with him. By rights, he ought to be passing around the drinks at a ball like this one, or working in the kitchens. If any of my sisters had to rub shoulders with a fellow like that…”
Stepmama would have a fit if I stepped on my dance partner’s foot so hard he yelped, or if I stalked off the dance floor in the middle of a dance. Worse yet, Elissa might swoon from the shame of it…and Angeline would be proven right.
So instead of doing any of the things I really wanted to do, I said, through gritted teeth, “It’s lucky for all of us that your sisters aren’t Guardians, then, isn’t it?”
“Ha! My sisters? No, hardly. Typical females, anyway, three out of the four of them—all gowns and gossip and not a brain to spare between them.”
“Typical,” I repeated grimly, and began to fantasize about magical punishments.
Mr. Packenham nattered on for the rest of the dance, but I managed to turn it into a distant buzzing noise as I comforted myself with images of blasting him through the air with my Guardian magic or casting a spell from Mama’s diary of witchcraft to turn his red hair bright green. The vision I’d built up by the end of the dance was almost delicious enough to make my final curtsy sincere as he handed me off to the Marquess of Lanham.
“Now don’t forget!” said Mr. Packenham, leaning close. “I still have one more set with you after supper—and I’ll have you running outside with me for fresh air after that one, you mark my words!”
Over my dead body, I thought, and smiled sweetly at him as I silently added: Or better yet, yours.
The Marquess looked down at me with his blond eyebrows raised forbiddingly as he led me back onto the dance floor. “I shouldn’t advise leaving the ballroom for any fresh air tonight, Miss Stephenson, unless you have your sisters for companionship.” He cleared his throat censoriously as we took our places in the set. “Young ladies’ reputations are terribly fragile, you know. You wouldn’t wish people to consider you fast.”
“Or stupid,” I added, “which is what I’d have to be to let myself be led outside by Mr. Packenham at any time, don’t you think?”
The Marquess blinked rapidly and didn’t reply.
Perhaps he’d been expecting a bit more simpering gratitude for his advice. Unfortunately, I didn’t have it in me. Not tonight.
It was a stately minuet, appropriately enough, since I couldn’t imagine the Marquess hopping his way through a country dance. There was plenty of time, as we processed gravely down the floor, for the silence between us to turn stifling. Alexander was nowhere in view, I still felt itchy from my dance with Mr. Packenham, and if we didn’t start talking soon, I was afraid I might kick up my heels and start skipping just to break up the overblown grandiosity of it all.
I sighed and prepared to follow my sisters’ instructions after all. “So,” I began, as I turned back to the Marquess at the end of a turn, “what do you think about the weather to—oh!” I stopped as I took in his expression.
Good heavens.
The Marquess’s look of elegant boredom had disappeared. His jaw was clenched and his eyes positively flashed as he glared across the room.
I twisted around. Had someone started dancing in their undergarments? Or was a band of thieves blatantly stealing the plates?
Lucy grinned at me across the room and gave me a cheerful wave of her fan from her position surrounded by three older gentlemen. The gentlemen looked deeply interested in her bosom, which, unlike mine, had always been impressive. Lucy looked far more interested in the drink that she was holding and the dancing taking place before her.
The Marquess let out a snorting noise that sounded like an angry bull. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.
I raised my eyebrows. “Are you talking about Lucy?”
He swung around so sharply, he lost his place in the dance. “You know Miss Win—that is, Miss MacTavish?”
“Well, of course I do.” I shook my head at him as he righted himself. “How could I not? She’s my cousin. But how in the world could you possibly know her? She’s been living in the middle of nowhere for the last six years.”
The Marquess’s face tightened. I could almost see his inner fight not to let his eyes slide back to her. “In the middle of the Scottish Highlands, actually,” he said. “Her aunts live next to my Scottish estate.”
“And you’re…friends with them?” I asked, remembering Lucy’s aunt’s bright yellow-and-purple gown. Somehow, I couldn’t see the Marquess of Lanham voluntarily socializing with eccentrics.
“I was under orders,” the Marquess gritted, “to keep an eye on her.”
Aha. So the Order hadn’t forgotten about Lucy’s wild magic after all. Mr. Gregson had never said anything more about it to me after our adventures in Bath…but then, he already knew how I felt about the matter.
I lifted my chin and glared at the Marquess. “Did
she know that you were spying on her?”
His jaw tightened even more, to the point of looking rather dangerous. If he didn’t take care, it might break off at any moment. “She couldn’t care less about my orders,” he snapped, “as she is utterly shameless, with no regard for duty, tradition, or magical self-restraint!”
Well, well. The toplofty Marquess of Lanham possessed emotions after all. I would never have guessed it of him.
I studied him curiously as we performed our stately turns. He’d apparently lost the battle with his willpower, as he was once again glowering across the room.
“What exactly do you find so objectionable about her behavior tonight?” I asked. “Surely a simple little wave couldn’t set you off like this.”
“She shouldn’t be here at all!” The Marquess jerked his gaze away from Lucy with a visible effort. “If anything should go wrong—if anyone recognized her from her time in Bath, or if she lost control of her powers for even an instant…”
“My goodness.” I shook my head wonderingly. “You’re actually concerned for her.”
“I most certainly am not.” The Marquess turned his outraged glower in my direction. “It is the duty of every Guardian to keep magic out of sight of the general public. That is the only thing that could possibly matter to me.”
“Hmm.” I turned to look back at Lucy. She was grinning mischievously in our direction, ignoring her elderly admirers. When she caught my eye, she tilted her head momentarily in the Marquess’s direction and mouthed, Delicious, isn’t he?”
“Hmm,” I repeated, more faintly.
Someday I would really have to learn more about exactly what Lucy had been up to during all those years in Scotland.
I looked at the ruffled Marquess and put on my sweetest, most innocent expression, which I had practiced on my older sisters and brother for years. “Fortunately for you,” I said brightly, “from the way she’s already been surrounded by suitors, I expect she’ll have a marriage proposal within a week. Then she won’t be your concern at all, will she?”
The Marquess let out a noise that sounded like a muffled roar.
Courting Magic: A Kat, Incorrigible Novella Page 4
