Kat, Incorrigible (20 page)

“Of course I had to come,” Lady Fotherington purred. “How could I stay away from such a gathering? Especially with so many charming gentlemen among your company?”

Well, that proved it wasn’t me, at least. I would never say anything so disgusting, no matter how many spells had been placed upon me.

Unfortunately, that left me with only one conclusion: Lady Fotherington really was standing right below me.

Right below …
Oh, Lord. I’d frozen on the third step of the grand staircase, in full view of the open front doors. The moment Lady Fotherington looked away from her hostess, she’d see me standing as still as a stick, just waiting for her.

I lunged forward, up to the next step. But Stepmama’s grip was still tight on my arm, and she didn’t follow me. To my horror, I could feel her starting to turn back.

“No!” I hissed. I yanked hard, pulling her up, stumbling, to join me on my higher step. “You said a lady never stares,” I whispered. “You said—”

“Don’t be absurd, Katherine,” Stepmama said, in a horribly normal, horribly loud voice. She let go of my arm and shook her head. “We mustn’t rush away now, just when a new guest is arriving!”

There was a sudden, startled silence behind us. I cringed. Stepmama swung around, beaming.

“Why, my dear Lady Fotherington,” she trilled. “I do hope you remember me. We met at the Whitelaws’ ball in Grosvenor Street ten years ago, and—oh, good, you do remember. But I had no idea you would be attending Rosemary’s little house party!”

I clung to the banister. I couldn’t bring myself to turn around. Maybe, if all Lady Fotherington could see was the back of my head, she might not—

“Why, Margaret Stephenson,” Lady Fotherington said. “As I live and breathe. Of course I remember meeting you—you were still Margaret Havisham then, were you
not? What a charming surprise to see you here. And is that one of your stepdaughters I see beside you?”

I gritted my teeth and turned around as slowly as I could. The front doorway came slowly into view before me: Lady Fotherington resplendent in a fashionable green morning gown, with her dark hair arranged in an elegant trailing style; Lady Graves with her hands still held out in warm welcome; and all the footmen trying to look as if they didn’t have eyes or ears or brains, only uniforms. The very worst part came when Lady Fotherington deliberately met my eyes and smiled. She didn’t have to speak. I could read her triumph even from fifteen feet away. And her nose, just as Mr. Gregson had told me, was as perfectly straight as if I had never even touched it.

“My youngest stepdaughter, Miss Katherine,” Step-mama said, and put one hand behind my back. From the doorway, it must have looked like a loving gesture. I knew better. I curtsied before she could remind me of my manners with a pinch.

“Charming,” Lady Fotherington murmured. “But …” She turned her gaze back to Stepmama. “Isn’t she a trifle young for house parties, Margaret? She looks—”

“She
is
rather young to be allowed in public,” Stepmama said. “Indeed, I would have kept her in the nursery myself, where she belongs, but dear Rosemary did choose to insist—”

That did it. I smiled brilliantly at Lady Fotherington and
cut straight across Stepmama. “But don’t you remember, Lady Fotherington? We’ve already met.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lady Fotherington blinked rapidly, losing her smile.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Katherine!” Stepmama glared at me. “Of course you haven’t met. Lady Fotherington has only just arrived. There is no possible way in which—”

“But we have met, Stepmama,” I said, in my most innocent voice. I widened my eyes for added effect—not for Stepmama’s sake, of course; she would never be fooled by that—but for the benefit of our observers below. “And Lady Fotherington can’t have just arrived, because I met her this morning in the abbey ruins. She was with that pleasant gentleman we met yesterday—Lady Graves’s cousin from town. Mr. Gregson, I think his name is?”

I heard the hissing sound of Lady Fotherington’s indrawn breath all the way across the foyer. But she didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to—Stepmama was bristling enough for three.

“That is quite enough out of you, young lady. Making up absurd stories to tease our hostess’s guests—”

“But it isn’t a story, Stepmama,” I said sweetly. “It really happened. If you don’t trust me, you can ask Elissa. She met the two of them there, as well. You wouldn’t accuse Elissa of making up stories, would you?”

Stepmama looked like a startled frog, blowing up her cheeks with air and stuttering instead of speaking. But
our hostess, Lady Graves, let out a low, delighted laugh.

“My, my, Lydia,” Lady Graves said to Lady Fotherington. “From the mouths of innocents, eh?”

“Innocents …,” Lady Fotherington repeated.

She might have been trying for a light tone. But I could almost feel the steam that rose from her rigid figure all the way to where I stood on the stairs, looking down on both of them with my most harmless and puzzled look.

“I do beg your pardon, Lady Fotherington,” I said. “Have I said something wrong?”

The look in Lady Fotherington’s eyes was worth everything I’d suffered in the last few hours. I tried to memorize it, so I could enjoy it again later, during my sisters’ inevitable lectures.

“I would never have mentioned seeing you and Mr. Gregson in the abbey ruins if I’d had any idea that you wouldn’t like it,” I said, and then stopped, biting down hard on my lower lip, before I could ruin the effect by laughing.

“Now, now. You can hardly blame the poor girl for not knowing better than to let your little secret out.” Lady Graves took Lady Fotherington’s arm. “My dear, you must tell me all about it. I want all the delicious details. I would never have guessed Aloysius to be your sort. You two have been cunning, haven’t you?”

“Someone certainly has been,” Lady Fotherington said coolly. “I must admit, I should quite like to talk to him right now.” She shot me a meaningful glare.

“I imagine you would,” Lady Graves said. “But just now, I am going to spirit you away for a proper interrogation, before you can agree on any stories with him. Margaret, won’t you join us for tea and a spot of gossip in my dressing room?”

“Ah …” Stepmama hesitated, glancing between me and the two ladies.

It must have been an excruciating dilemma for her—whether to indulge herself in a towering scold over my behavior, or to be included in a private gossip with two fashionable women from the high society she longed for. I wondered if the effort of choice would turn her cheeks purple. Perhaps she would even explode. I watched her with interest to see what would happen.

“Now, Margaret, I am sure that Miss Katherine is old enough to find her way back to her own room by herself,” Lady Graves said.

“Indeed,” Lady Fotherington said, and smiled thinly. “One certainly does receive the impression that Miss Katherine is capable of anything.”

I smiled back as enchantingly as possible, just to make her seethe. “That is very kind of you to say, Lady Fotherington.”

Lady Graves glanced between us. Her lips twitched. “As I said. Margaret? Lydia? Shall we retire to my dressing room?”

“I would be delighted,” Stepmama said. But before she stepped away, she leaned in to whisper in my ear. “You will go directly to your room, Kat. Or else!”

“Yes, Stepmama,” I said, and batted my eyelashes at her.

She couldn’t let out any shrieks of rage in public, not in front of Lady Graves and Lady Fotherington. But the look on her face was enough for me.

I smiled all the way up the stairs.

I might have kept my smile even longer if Angeline hadn’t caught me.

“Aha!” She swooped down on me as I turned into the corridor that led to our bedrooms. “I thought I heard your voice.”

I tried out my innocent, wide-eyed look on her. “Were you looking for me? I’m so sorry. If I’d had any idea—”

“Very amusing,” Angeline said. “Now stop blinking like a fish, Kat. It won’t have any effect on me. Or on Elissa, once I’m finished with you.” She took my arm and started hauling me down the corridor as she spoke.

I said, “Stepmama’s already given me a tedious, long lecture, so—”

“So that would be a good beginning, then,” said Angeline. “Just you wait.”

She swept me past the door to Elissa’s room, past my door, and on to hers. She swung it open and pushed me inside. “You see?”

“Ah …” I stared at the irrefutable evidence. The closet door stood open. Mama’s magic books sat in full view on top of the bed. The four valises that had been neatly stacked in the corner by the closet were scattered
across the floor, knocked open and trailing clothes.

Angeline crossed her arms and leaned back against the closed bedroom door. There was no escape. “Now do you see why I’m so furious?” she said.

The best defense is a good offense
, I thought. “What a mess,” I said. “Has Stepmama seen how you keep your room tidy?” I shook my head portentously. “And that certainly doesn’t look like a safe hiding place for Mama’s books.”

Angeline’s glare should have burned my skin. I had to force myself not to step back.

“No?” she said. “Well, then, it’s a good thing that isn’t where I left them. But when I came back to the room after breakfast, they were lying on the floor, underneath the bed, which isn’t where I left them either. And the rest of the room”—she waved at the scattered luggage—“was as you see it.”

I put on my most offended voice. “And you think I did this?” I asked.

“No, you ninny, of course I don’t.” Angeline rolled her eyes. “If you knew anything about magic, you would be able to feel all the magical residue and know that I’d left a spell here—a strong one—and someone else broke it. Someone truly powerful. Trust me, you wouldn’t have been remotely capable of doing it.”

“Oh.” I slumped with relief. “Well. That’s all right, then.” I sat down on the bed. “I’m glad you realized that. Because of course I would never—”

Angeline’s eyes narrowed. “But I think you know who did.”

“What?” I straightened with a start. “What are you talking about? Why would I know anything about it? That’s absurd!”

Angeline ticked off the points on her fingers. “One: You’re babbling. You never babble unless you’re nervous—which means that you do know who did this, and you don’t want to tell me. Two: Last night you asked me where Mama’s magic books were. I assumed you were only after them for yourself. But you kept asking if they were safe. So.” She advanced on me like the Angel of Vengeance. “You knew that someone would come looking for them.”

“No, I didn’t,” I said. “You’re leaping to conclusions. Papa would tell you that that is very bad logic, and—”

“The question is,” Angeline said inexorably, “how did you know that they were in danger? The only answer I could come up with is that you told someone about Mama’s magic books. Someone who should never have been trusted with that information. So, Kat.” She stood over me, her hands on her hips. “Whom did you tell?”

I squirmed, pinned under her glare like a butterfly under glass. I knew perfectly well, and believed with all my heart, that I did not have to obey Angeline in anything. But sometimes it was difficult to remember that … especially when she was so convinced of the exact opposite.

It was patently unfair. She was only five years older than me.

“I didn’t tell anybody,” I said, and jerked my chin up to return her glare with interest. “Now stop interrogating me. I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Now, there’s a likely story.” Angeline laughed. “I don’t think—”

A knock sounded at the door behind her. “Angeline?”

It was Elissa’s voice.
Saved.
I relaxed and grinned up at Angeline as cheekily as I could. “I think we’re finished now,” I said. “Don’t you?”

She sneered down at me. “Don’t even imagine it. Elissa is just as unhappy about your disappearance as I was.”

“And how does she feel about these?” I scooped Mama’s magic books off the bed. “Have you told her about them yet?”

“Give me those!” Angeline grabbed them, but I didn’t let them go. “Kat, if you don’t—”

The doorknob turned. Then it hit the lock and stopped. It turned again.

“I can hear Kat inside with you,” Elissa called. “Why have you locked the door?”

“Yes, Angeline,” I said. “Why have you locked the door?” I batted my eyelashes at her. “Could you possibly be keeping secrets from our sister?”

“That’s it.” Angeline snatched the books from my hands. “Don’t even imagine that you’re safe now, Kat. I will find out the truth.”

I sneered back at her. “Fine. Then maybe Elissa can find out the truth about you, too.”

The doorknob rattled. “This is absurd,” Elissa hissed through the door. “What is going on in there?”

“It’s not my fault,” I called out. “I want to let you in. It’s Angeline who—ow!”

Angeline straightened. Her cheeks were flushed from bending over to shove the books under the bed. Her eyes were glowing—no doubt from the pleasure of kicking me hard on the way. She crossed the room and threw open the door.

“Elissa,” she said. “Come in.”