Oh, for heaven’s sake.
“Lord Ravenscroft went to Eton, too,” I hissed. “And that didn’t stop him from being a traitor, did it?”
“What were you saying about Lord Ravenscroft?” Alexander asked, just behind me.
Oh, no. I wished I could sink into the ground and disappear. I couldn’t bring myself to turn and face him, but I could feel him like a line of fire behind my back.
I couldn’t believe I’d been careless enough to mention Lord Ravenscroft in front of him.
“Lord Ravenscroft was the former Head of our Order,” the Marquess said stiffly. Red tinged his cheekbones. “I’m afraid we couldn’t possibly discuss him with outsiders.”
“Then you needn’t worry about me,” Alexander said evenly, “because he was my father. Didn’t Kat mention that to you?”
Of course I hadn’t.
The Marquess looked as if he’d been struck. “I—you—but…” He turned his gaze on me. “You didn’t tell me? Or Mr. Gregson?”
“Mr. Gregson knows already,” I said, “and it wasn’t any of your business, was it?”
“But—”
“Forgive me,” I said, finally turning to Alexander. “I shouldn’t have said anything about him.”
Alexander shook his head, his green eyes clear and unclouded. “Don’t worry, Kat. Trust me, I came to terms with the truth about my father a long time ago. Five years ago, in point of fact.”
I’d been with Alexander that night, when he’d finally come face-to-face with the truth of how his father had lied to him and disdained him, all on the quest for more money and power.
I’d defeated Lord Ravenscroft myself less than a year earlier, when he had attempted the magical sacrifice of my own brother. In an act of pure magical justice, I had shattered his magical powers just as he had first attempted to shatter mine, leaving him an empty husk. He had finally died three years ago, his property and title both claimed by the crown in an Act of Attainder for his capital treason. When I remembered Alexander’s face that night in the cave in Devon, though, that Act didn’t seem like nearly enough punishment for his father’s sins.
Without thinking, I reached toward him.
Then I stopped with a jerk, my hand still hovering half an inch from his arm.
Wait. I wasn’t allowed to touch him anymore.
Alexander’s chest rose and fell in a quick, ragged breath as we both stood staring at each other, caught in that halfway position. I could almost see him remembering earlier that night…and how we’d parted.
He wished we had never kissed.
My stomach clenched nauseatingly. I dropped my arm and stepped rapidly away from him, closer to the refreshment table. Randomly, I reached out and grabbed a dry biscuit, crunching down hard.
My throat was so tight, it was hard to swallow.
The Marquess cleared his throat. “I…well…has Miss Stephenson shared her mad plan with you yet?”
“I was going to tell him next,” I muttered through a mouthful of dry, irritating crumbs. Why hadn’t I grabbed a glass of punch to wash down the biscuit? It was too late now, but I nearly choked as I fought to swallow down the last bits. “I didn’t think he’d take as long to convince.”
Alexander’s lips quirked at that, a gleam entering his eyes. Over my head, he nodded politely at someone behind me, but that didn’t stop him from asking, “What scheme have you concocted now? I have to warn you, Lanham, she’ll do what she likes regardless of all your protests, so you might as well give in now and save your energy.”
“Because my schemes work,” I said. It was easier to roll my eyes and pretend now that everything was as it should be and no kisses or crying had happened at all. “They nearly always work, anyway.”
“Well, this one is absurd,” muttered the Marquess. “She thinks that Packenham is the rogue. Our own colleague!”
Alexander shrugged. “So how are we going to catch him?”
“That’s it?” The Marquess stared at him. “You aren’t even going to ask her for any proof?”
For just a moment, Alexander’s eyes met mine, his expression rueful. “I know Kat,” he said. “That’s proof enough for me.”
Warmth tingled through me. The Marquess kept on sputtering, but I ignored him. “My cousin Lucy is going to act as bait,” I explained. “I’ve set it all up, so he’ll be wild to go after her.”
“In front of all of us?” The Marquess snorted. “He would have to be mad to think he could succeed.”
“Or drunk,” I retorted, “which he certainly is—far too foxed to think sensibly. Trust me, I listened to him for ages over our last dance! He’s more than capable of swaggering straight back into this ballroom and assuming we aren’t clever enough to spot or catch him. All we have to do is wait until he steps back into the room in his new guise, and then…”
“Wait.” Alexander frowned. “Your cousin…she isn’t the blonde girl you were talking to earlier, is she? The one with the flowers in her hair?”
I frowned back at him. “Of course she is. So?”
“I saw a footman come up to her a few minutes ago as we were all talking,” Alexander said. “I noticed because she looked so excited when he handed her a note. She looked directly at you afterwards. You were turned away from her, but she looked over your head to me, smiled and nodded…and walked outside into the gardens, by herself.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I spun around. It was too late.
Lucy was gone…and Mr. Packenham was far less reckless than I’d realized. He’d been clever enough to draw her outside, well away from our view and magical reach, before he moved against her.
But of course, she’d imagined that she was safe. After all, I had promised that she would be.
Sickness roiled in my gut. I’d been watching her so carefully, ever since we’d come up with the plan—until I’d been distracted. How could I have let myself be distracted?
Cursing myself, I started for the door, with Alexander at my side.
“She must have guessed that you were working with us,” I said tightly. “She thought she was giving all of us a message when she nodded to you then. If I’d only told you more quickly what was happening—”
“Wait. She’s out there alone with Packenham?” said the Marquess. “Without a chaperone? I don’t care if he’s the illusionist or not. She isn’t safe!” His eyes wild, he pushed between us and headed toward the back door at a near run, scattering other guests in his wake. Heads turned all around the room.
So much for being discreet. Panic pulsed against my chest, but it didn’t overwhelm my brain entirely. As everyone around us stared after the Marquess, I whispered to Alexander, “I think we’d better be invisible for this.”
Concerned friends and acquaintances were already converging on Lord Lanham, fluttering with anxiety and interest and blocking his way out. My family had thwarted my own last attempt to leave the ballroom—and even if we made it past them this time, if anyone followed us and saw Lucy and Packenham, her reputation could be ruined, too.
Alexander nodded without questioning me. “We’ll need to be able to see each other, though.”
Oh, no. I knew what that meant, and I wasn’t sure I could do it. Not tonight. Not now.
Then I thought of Lucy and steeled myself.
Together, we slipped out of the main crowd to the side of the room. The closest guests all had their backs turned to us, craning to make out Lord Lanham’s dispute with the crowd that surrounded him. It was the perfect moment.
Drawing a deep breath, I turned to Alexander. Tension prickled up my spine, but I quashed it with force.
This was only a magic-working. I was doing my duty and nothing more.
I tipped my head back to look into his deep green eyes. Then I drew up my Guardian power in a wave of energy that rippled through me—and almost stumbled back as I felt the tide of power roaring up to meet mine from Alexander’s body, only inches away.
It was overwhelming. It was exhilarating.
I could scarcely breathe.
I couldn’t look away from his eyes or I would lose the magic-working. So I kept my gaze locked with his, my legs trembling in reaction, as I directed the magic with all my force:
Only you can see me. Only you can see me.
Magic washed over us both like flame.
I staggered and almost fell. He reached out to me—but I’d already caught myself.
“Now,” I said, and picked up my skirts in preparation to run. “Let’s go!”
We whisked past the group that had crowded around Lord Lanham, hearing his loud, agitated voice rising above the stream of enquiries. The Marquess might have to resort to fisticuffs if he was ever to escape his friendly interrogators, but we had no such obstacles. Invisible to everyone else, we rushed through the doors into the garden without turning a single head.
The first thing that I saw outside was a white piece of paper, still half-folded, lying on the pebbled path and only barely visible in the half-light cast through the open doors. My breath stopped at the sight. If Lucy had been tackled from the shadows as she’d left the building—if she’d dropped the note in some terrible struggle while I was still chatting away in the ballroom, completely oblivious to what was happening outside…
No. That was panic speaking, not common sense. Packenham would never have dared assault her so close to the ballroom, where anyone could have heard a cry for help. Lucy hadn’t dropped the note in any struggle; she had left it as a clue for us with just as much deliberation and purpose as she had positioned herself in the ballroom.
I wouldn’t be foolish enough to ignore her aid. So even though all of my instincts urged me to charge directly into the darkness, I stopped and picked up the note first, brushing dust off the paper as I opened it.
There wasn’t enough light cast through the doors to read the ornate, looping handwriting on the page—until Alexander held out his hand and a warm golden glow bloomed in the darkness. He shifted until he stood behind me, his hand cupped over mine to light the letter, looking over my shoulder as I read:
To Miss MacTavish:
Most admired and charming lady,
An Honourable Royal Personage had the infinite pleasure of being struck by your Inestimable Beauty and Charm earlier this evening but was prevented by Sad Circumstance from attaining the Introduction that he Craved. Although he is loath to arouse the public Excitement that would inevitably arise in the ballroom should the rest of the Company espy his reappearance, he has been unable to forget the Staggering Bolt of Admiration that was inflicted upon him by his earlier sight of you. Now he begs, with the Deepest and most Chaste and Respectful Humility, that you may bestow upon him the Honour of your Company in the Garden, where his Highness may be protected from the notice of the Crowd.
Yrs, a Friend.
“So, the Prince of Wales returns,” Alexander murmured behind me. “Packenham must have seen an opportunity there.”
“Who knew he was so clever?” I grimaced as I refolded the note and slipped it into the bodice of my gown. It scratched at my skin, but I ignored the discomfort. We might well want it as evidence later. “I was so certain he was tipsy enough to walk back into the ballroom even with all of us waiting there.”
“The note was cleverly written, too,” said Alexander. “He obviously has a brain, despite all appearances. Perhaps he wasn’t as deep into his cups as you’d thought.”
“Well…perhaps.” I frowned. Could Mr. Packenham’s drunken façade have been a ruse? Was he far more intelligent and cunning than he had appeared?
There was no time to worry about that now. I hurried forward, trying not to flinch as I passed the sweet chestnut tree. Soft murmurs emerged from behind the branches, and I caught a glimpse of moving shadows underneath.
Ouch. My face heated up as I moved even faster.
Alexander didn’t say a word.
Luckily, the next moment, I had the perfect distraction as a stick came flying at my face.
I ducked.
“Oof!” Alexander let out a grunt as it hit him instead.
Oops. But I was already running, dodging more flying branches and following the sound of Lucy’s voice.
“How dare you!”
A loud thwack! followed her words. More branches flew over the top the tall, thick hedge that concealed the back corner of the garden.
Alexander tossed forward his golden ball of light. It flew through the air to hang above the hedge as we squeezed, one after another, through the narrow gap to find a corner of open grass between the hedge and the even taller garden wall.
The so-called Prince of Wales huddled on the ground, moaning, as Lucy stood perfectly straight and unharmed before him, her arms crossed, sticks flying all around her but never brushing against her skin.
“That is for trying to take my diamonds,” she announced, as one stick rebounded off the rogue’s thick shoulders, “and that is for trying to touch me in a completely unmentionable place, and that…”
“That had better not be the real Prince this time,” Alexander whispered. His shoulders were shaking with the force of his withheld laughter.
I gave him a narrowed look. “Oh, very amusing.” The scent of burnt sugar hung in the air—sweeter and lighter than the scent I’d smelt earlier from Mrs. Montrose’s witchcraft, but unmistakable nonetheless. With a single thought, I reached through the air, found that telltale strand of magic, and snapped it.
Aha. Mr. Packenham cowered on the ground before us, shielding his head with his hands.
Lucy’s branches stopped flying and dropped to the ground. “Kat?” She looked around. “Is that you?”
With a nod to Alexander, I dropped my own magic-working. He followed suit a moment later. “George Packenham,” I said sternly. “We hereby arrest you on behalf of the Order of the Guardians for—”
A cold, sharp point pricked through the back of my gown. My voice broke off.
“Oh, no, I don’t believe you shall,” said Mrs. Montrose. “Or I’ll simply have to slide this dagger into you. And you wouldn’t like that at all, would you?”
***
Curses. I should have known better.
“You were working together all along,” I said. Resignation sank like a stone inside me, weighing down my voice.
How could I have been so stupid? My own family never kept their noses out of my business. I should have known that their family would be the same, but I’d been misled by Mr. Packenham’s sullen ramblings into believing that he and his twin weren’t close.
Lucy had told me that Mrs. Montrose liked to mix with higher circles of Society whenever possible. I simply hadn’t realized that her social climbing had performed a double duty as research for her twin brother’s disguises.
Alexander hadn’t moved, but I could feel an aura of tightly packed danger gathering around him. “I take it that you were the one who wrote the note to Miss MacTavish?” he growled.
“As if George would ever have thought of it?” She sniffed. “Get up, little brother, do. Don’t just lie there like a worm.”
“Little brother?” I fought the constriction in my chest to speak, trying to ignore that lethal knifepoint hovering at my back. “I thought you were twins.”
“Oh, I emerged well over an hour before he did,” said Mrs. Montrose. “And he’s never caught up.”
“And you’ve never let me forget it, damn you.” Mr. Packenham groaned as he pushed himself up, wincing at each new ache and brushing off the remains of branches that had attacked him.
Lucy started forward, the fallen branches beginning to rise.
“Ah-ah-ah!” Mrs. Montrose tutted.
The dagger twisted against my back with a tearing sound, slicing through the net overlay and the muslin underneath, and I bit back a gasp.
It had actually broken my skin that time.
Lucy stopped, her eyes wide and fixed on me.
“Exactly,” said Mrs. Montrose. “Now I understand from my brother that a Guardian can break any spell cast b
y a witch, so my own magic may be useless against this pair…but I believe a knife is something very different indeed. So there won’t be any more branches flung about, if you please. And you’ll hand your diamonds to my idiot brother without any more fuss.”
Lucy paused, her eyes flicking from me to my attacker.
“Quickly!” said Mrs. Montrose, and twisted the knife again. This time, I didn’t try to hold back my gasp.
Alexander made a quick, abortive movement, then stopped. I could hear his harsh breathing.
Lucy reached into her reticule and pulled out the three large stones. They glinted in the golden light, beautiful and flawless.
Mrs. Montrose let out a hungry sound. “George! Take them, quickly!”
“And then what are you going to do?” I asked grumpily. “Kill us all?”
Mrs. Montrose did not reply. Still, her silence felt ominous.
Mr. Packenham limped over to take the stones from Lucy, but he was careful not to meet her gaze. That was the impressive thing about wild magic: although it was almost impossible to control—Lucy was the only person I’d ever heard of who’d managed to keep hold of it entirely—once wild magic was in play, its strength could never be broken by a Guardian. I wished I could have enjoyed the little drama that must have taken place earlier, when he’d discovered just how helpless his latest victim wasn’t.
He wasn’t a complete idiot, though, and he had been trained all his life as a Guardian. His forehead crumpled into a scowl as he studied the so-called diamonds. Then he lifted them to his face and sniffed. “Oh, dash it, Pippa.” He sighed. “They’re fakes!”
“What?” Mrs. Montrose’s dagger didn’t move, but I felt her shift behind me to get a better look. “You can’t judge a diamond in this half-light, you fool.”
“I don’t need to.” He sighed and closed his eyes. Guardian power blasted through the air, far stronger than I would have anticipated from him.
Apparently he had inherited something from his famous father after all.
The diamonds disappeared, replaced by three small hairpins.
“Ahhh!” Mrs. Montrose let out a cry of outrage. The knifepoint slipped fractionally away from my skin.
Courting Magic: A Kat, Incorrigible Novella Page 9
