Kat, Incorrigible (14 page)

I saw Lady Graves’s lips move in recognizable words. “What does he want?”

The footman’s head was turned to her, so I couldn’t make out his reply. But I heard the doors crash open, and I turned with everyone else at the table to stare at the intruder who hurried inside, cravat disarranged and hair disordered, panting from exertion. His own dark blue eyes, of course, went straight to Angeline, ignoring everyone else in the crowded room.

It was Frederick Carlyle, more agitated than I’d ever seen him.

“Miss Angeline,” he said. “Thank God I’ve found you. Your house has been burgled!”

“Burgled in broad daylight!” Even half an hour
later, Stepmama could not stop repeating it.

She sat in one of Lady Graves’s most elegant drawing-room chairs with a bevy of older women gathered around her solicitously, plying her with tea and sympathy. For all their fussing, though, I could see the avid speculation in their eyes. Our family was providing plenty of fodder for gossip tonight.

“Did you hear to whom he addressed himself?” Mrs. Banfield murmured to her companion as they passed my corner of the room, on their way to refill their cups at the tea urn. “It was Miss Angeline he’d come to tell—not Mrs. Stephenson. I wonder if his mother knows how thoroughly he is being dragged into their
toils, buried in that little country vicarage?”

Her companion giggled. “It is too delicious, isn’t it? Perhaps a judicious letter really ought to be sent to Mrs. Carlyle’s sister to pass on the hint….”

I glared at both of them, but they didn’t notice. They were too busy savoring the moment.

“But what could they even have wanted?” Stepmama moaned piteously to her supporters on the other side of the room. “We have nothing—that is …” She blinked and drew herself up, suddenly speaking more cautiously under the weight of so many measuring eyes. “We think of our possessions as absolutely nothing, of course, despite what some people might call their vulgar monetary value….”

I curled in tighter upon myself in my corner. Elissa was holding off her own interrogators in another part of the drawing room, while Angeline, cheeks flushed, was held as captive audience by Mr. Carlyle, the only gentleman in the room, under the interested gaze of all the other ladies. But none of them knew as clearly as I what must have happened.

“It was while your father and I were on our daily walk across the hills,” Mr. Carlyle had told Angeline at the dinner table, while all the other guests stared and whispered. “Mr. Stephenson’s study was ransacked, and all the other rooms in the house gone over. But we could see nothing that had gone missing, so the burglars must not have found what they were looking for. Mr. Stephenson
decided it would be best for me to be the one who came to tell you, as your brother was, ah, indisposed, and your father himself, er, well …”

Of course Papa couldn’t have come to tell us himself. He was needed to keep an eye on Charles and make sure he came to no new trouble while we were gone. No matter what the rest of Lady Graves’s houseguests thought, all of us in Charles’s family understood that part without needing any further explanation. But as for the rest of it …

“What were they even looking for?” Stepmama wailed to her audience now. “And what if they should come back? Or come here to find it, whatever it is?”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Lady Graves said. She cut through Stepmama’s spellbound audience to pat her hand and smile bracingly. “This house is very well protected. A dozen servants would alert us before a single burglar could find his way to your rooms. I promise you, you are entirely safe here.”

But I knew she was wrong.

The door to the drawing room opened, and the gentlemen arrived, spilling into the room in a rather unsteady fashion after their session of port swilling. Sir Neville and his brother both headed straight for Elissa; the pallid young fashion plate wandered idly to the rich velvet curtains to look out into the darkness; my neighbor from dinner headed straight to the farthest sofa in the room and promptly fell asleep.

But I only had eyes for one gentleman in the room.

Mr. Gregson smiled thinly at me as he seated himself with a neat flick of his coattails by our hostess’s side.

Apparently Lady Fotherington wasn’t the only ruthless one in their partnership after all.

I followed Angeline into her room that night, even though her face was still flushed with embarrassment and anger, and her eyes sparkled with a light that meant danger. I ignored all the signs and closed the door behind me.

“I’m too tired, Kat,” she said, before I could utter a word. “If you want to talk, go find Elissa. I’m sure she’s simply longing to sigh like a martyr in front of an audience right now. Heaven knows, inspiring two gentlemen to passion in one night is plenty of reason to feel sorry for yourself. It’s practically a gothic tragedy.”

“You’re just annoyed because Frederick Carlyle followed you here and mooned over you in front of all the other guests,” I said. I sat down on her bed uninvited and looped my hands around my knees. “There’s no need for you to take out your bad mood on Elissa.”

“I am so glad you decided to visit me tonight,” Angeline said sweetly. “How fortunate I am indeed. Do you wish to spend any more time explaining my own motivations to me, or are you ready to be thrown out yet? Because I warn you, I haven’t the patience to listen to much more of this right now.” She yanked the pins out of her thick, piled-up hair and threw them down onto her dressing table. “Frederick Carlyle be
damned,
” she said. “He had no reason
to come chasing after us only because of a burglary in which nothing was stolen. An utterly pointless burglary, in fact. Perhaps he made the whole thing up. I shouldn’t be at all surprised.”

“He didn’t,” I said. Then my throat closed up before I could say what I knew I ought to say next.

“Well, there’s no need to sound so certain about that,” said Angeline. “You may think you’re quite the expert at guessing all my secrets, but you might be surprised to know how often you’re wrong about other people.”

I thought of Mr. Gregson and didn’t argue. Instead I said, “Where have you put Mama’s magic books?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She whirled around, scattering hairpins in her wake. “Do you really think that now is the time to pester me for those? Go to bed, Kat. We’ll talk about it in the morning … if I’m in a better mood by then.”

I didn’t stand up. “Are they safe? Have you really hidden them?”

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, they are safe. And no, you still can’t have them. There!” She opened her eyes and glared at me. “Are you satisfied?”

“No,” I said, but I stood up and left the room anyway.

When I stepped out into the candlelit corridor, though, I realized I wasn’t alone. I closed Angeline’s door with a jerk. “Mr. Carlyle!” I hissed. “What are you doing here?”

He jumped back guiltily. “Nothing,” he said. “Only …”

I stared at him. “You wouldn’t—you couldn’t think of trying to go into Angeline’s bedchamber!”

“Of course not!” he said. He didn’t have the right kind of skin to blush. But he looked positively ill with horror at the thought. “I would never! I have the uttermost respect for Miss Angeline, I swear it. I only … it’s just …” He blinked soulfully at me. “I only wanted to be near her for a little longer. Just to know that she was close.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I said, as sweepingly as Angeline herself ever could. “She is in an absolutely foul mood right now. If she had any idea that you were out here …”

But I could see my words weren’t getting through.

It was all too much. My head was ringing with exhaustion and frustration and the wine I’d drunk at dinner and the fear I’d felt ever since he’d brought the news from home. I could feel the golden mirror burning against my leg through the reticule, making everything worse. I looked him directly in the eye and spoke as clearly as I could. My voice came out in a throbbing, muffled shriek.

“Stop it!”
I said.
“You don’t really love her anyway. Don’t be ridiculous!”

There was a muffled pop in the air around us, like an explosion. The candles in their wall sconces flickered, sending shadows flying through the air. We both stumbled back. I spun around, holding my reticule like a weapon. If Lady Fotherington had just appeared in midair behind me—

But the long corridor was empty except for us.

I turned back to Mr. Carlyle. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. His eyes were wide and shocked, and he was breathing hard.

I said, “Are you all right? I don’t know what—”

“Where am I?” Mr. Carlyle said. He blinked at me. “And who are you?”

In the end, I had to knock on Angeline’s door. I couldn’t think of what else to do.

She appeared a minute later, wrapped up in her dressing gown and with her dark hair already plaited in a braid for the night. “I might have known it was you, Kat. What do you want now?” Then she saw Mr. Carlyle. “Oh, Lord! No more. Not tonight!”

She started to close her door. I pushed it back open. “Wait!”

“I do beg your pardon,” Mr. Carlyle said. He grinned easily and swept a bow. “It’s an awkward moment for a meeting, I understand. But I appear to be in a bit of a fix, and your sister thought you might be able to help.”

“You
what
?” Angeline frowned at him. “Kat, what’s going on?”

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing here or who we are,” I said. I was proud of myself for keeping my voice so steady as I said it. I added, as lightly as I could, “It’s almost as if he’d been under a spell until just now.”

Mr. Carlyle laughed. “Well, I’m not sure I would phrase it quite so thrillingly. I’m sure there’s some more tedious explanation for it.”

“Oh,” Angeline said.
“Oh.”
Her dark eyes widened. She took a deep breath and stepped out of the room. “You don’t remember anything? About any of us?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said. His lips curved into a startlingly mischievous grin as he met her gaze. “But I must say, I rather wish I did.”

I couldn’t believe it. Angeline blushed.

I said, before he could get completely the wrong idea, “You’ve been studying with our father, Mr. Stephenson.”

“Really? They sent me down from Oxford for a term?” He frowned. “Why would they? I haven’t gotten into any trouble, have I? I was doing quite well, I thought.”