Kat, Incorrigible (18 page)

I groaned. “Do give up!”

“I beg your pardon?” His smile dropped.

“I mean,” I said hastily, “she won’t do, I’m sure of it. We might as well forget about her.”

“We’ve discussed this before. Your completely irrational dislike of her mother—”

I could feel my hands start to clench automatically. I
unfisted them before he could notice. “That has nothing to do with it,” I said. “I merely think—”

“It has everything to do with it, as you well know. Once and for all, Lydia—”

A gasp sounded behind us. We both spun around.

“Oh, I do beg your pardon,” said Elissa. She stood in the doorway, wearing her new straw bonnet and looking beautifully flushed. “I was only looking for my sister. I did not mean to interrupt. If you’ll excuse me …”

“Wait,” said Mr. Gregson.

He crossed the uneven stone tiles with quick steps; I trailed reluctantly behind, keeping my face averted. How well did Elissa really know me? Would she recognize my expressions on another woman’s face? My manner of speaking, from another woman’s mouth?

“Miss Stephenson, is it not?” Mr. Gregson bowed elegantly as he closed the distance between them. “Can we be of any assistance? You said you were looking for your sister—you have two sisters, do you not?”

“Yes …” Elissa bit her lip. I could see her looking between us doubtfully before she spoke again. “I was looking for my youngest sister, Kat—Katherine, I mean. I don’t know if you met her last night? She looks—”

“I have met her,” Mr. Gregson said, and glanced back at me.

I gave a horrible start. Then I realized he was being conspiratorial, rather than accusing. But it was too late
for me to take the motion back, and his eyes were already widening behind his spectacles.

“You say she has gone missing?” he asked Elissa.

Elissa gave a nervous, deprecating laugh. “I shouldn’t put it quite so dramatically, sir. She ate breakfast before us, and she may have grown tired of waiting for us to return, that’s all. She likes the ruins very much, so I thought I might find her here, exploring them. She’s very active and lively, you see.”

“I see,” said Mr. Gregson. His eyes were still fixed on me.

“We haven’t seen anyone,” I blurted. I turned and looked around pointedly. “I’m sure we would have noticed her.”

“Thank you,” Elissa murmured. Her cheeks flushed pinker; she was looking at the ground, not at either of us, and all of a sudden, I realized how compromising our position must seem to her, a single gentleman and a lady all alone in the ruins for a secret tryst. I felt my cheeks heat up.

“Indeed we would have,” Mr. Gregson murmured. “I was just showing Lady Fotherington some architectural details of the ruins—her late husband was quite an expert in the field of medieval architecture, you know, so she takes a great interest in the matter. Have you two ladies met?”

We both shook our heads. I felt like a fool.

“Lady Fotherington,” Mr. Gregson said, “may I present Miss Stephenson.”

Elissa’s cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment, but she smiled politely, curtsied, and held out her hand to me. We brushed fingers; I dropped my hand as quickly as possible.

“Charmed,” I murmured, in the same dry tone Lady Fotherington had used for my own introduction several days ago. I looked pointedly away from her as I spoke.

Elissa blinked and stepped back, dropping her own hand and losing her smile. But her voice remained as soft as ever. “I must go,” she said. “My sister Angeline—ah, here she comes now. I must tell her that Katherine wasn’t here after all.”

I spotted Angeline’s dark head and figure coming down the hill toward us, every line of her body vibrating with outrage. She must have discovered the chaos in her room. For the first time, I was actually glad to be hidden in Lady Fotherington’s body. Perhaps I wouldn’t change back yet, after all. Perhaps not until I’d given Angeline plenty of time to simmer down. Then again, that might take weeks. Or years.

“Good luck!” I said to Elissa, with false cheer.

“Indeed,” Mr. Gregson echoed. “Do tell us if we can be of any further assistance.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Elissa said. “But thank you.” She turned and hurried up the hill to meet Angeline.

I looked at Mr. Gregson. He looked back at me.

“Well?” I said. “Where do you think she is?” The words
felt tangled in my throat, under his watchful gaze. “I hope she isn’t spying on us.”

“One can always hope,” he said. “And yet …”

He stepped back, farther into the safety of the high abbey walls. I followed him with slow, dragging steps.

“There is another possibility,” he said. “One I had not properly considered until this moment.”

“Oh?” I moistened my lips. “It all seems fairly obvious to me. She grew tired of waiting for her sisters and went off to explore, just as Eliss—just as Miss Stephenson said. For all we know, she could be in these ruins, listening to us, right now. Or—her magic is very powerful, you know, it knocked me down earlier—she might not even need to be here to be listening to us, she might only—”

“She might,” Mr. Gregson said, “be here already. Talking to me at this very moment.”

Curses
. I picked up my skirts and lunged for the doorway.

His small hand closed around my arm with a surprisingly strong grip. “I think not. In fact—”

I yanked my arm free and ran. The stone tiles were bumpy and uneven beneath my feet, and I was still wearing Lady Fotherington’s cursed, flimsy evening slippers. He could catch me at any moment now….

But I couldn’t hear him running after me. Instead I felt something much more unsettling.

A great wave of air billowed in from the great, open doorway of the abbey and swept across the courtyard,
pushing me back like a wall closing in. I threw myself forward. The wave of air pushed me back. In the distance, I saw Elissa and Angeline disappearing into the house, too far away to call for help.

With all my strength, I twisted my shoulders around to face Mr. Gregson. His lips curved into a satisfied smile. He lifted one hand to beckon me. The massed air picked me up in midair and lifted me toward him.

My head throbbed. It was too much. It was all too much.

“Enough!”
I shouted.

The world seemed to flip inside out around me.

I landed on the ground with a clatter, gasping for breath. The world settled back again. The air was still and clear. The magic-working had disappeared—and so had my spell. My gown was white again. My chest was almost flat. I had never been so grateful to see it before.

Mr. Gregson was staring at me, his mouth wide open.

I turned and ran. Up the hill, past the house, stumbling over rocky outcroppings. Twice I fell and had to pick myself up with bleeding hands, skinned by the rocks that pushed up out of the grass. My breath came hard, burning against my chest. My vision narrowed into a tiny, bright tunnel ahead of me. I didn’t care where I was running. I just had to get away. I had to—

I ran straight into a man’s hard chest. He staggered. Strong hands rose to grip my arms and keep me upright.

I blinked and looked up, panting. “I’m so sorry,” I began.

The words dried up in my throat.

Sir Neville Collingwood smiled down at me. “Not at all,” he said. “It is a great pleasure, Miss Katherine. In fact, I have been looking for you.”

“Your sisters are most concerned,” Sir Neville said.

“My—oh!” Relief pushed my breath out in a rush. “My sisters told you I was missing. I see. Thank you.” I stepped back as his hands fell away from my arms. “I saw them go inside the house just a moment ago. I’ll follow them straightaway.”

“Not quite yet, I think,” said Sir Neville.

“I beg your pardon?”

His lips drew back over his teeth as he smiled. “You must reassure me first, I fear. You see, I was most concerned as well.”

At the look in his eyes, I took another step backward. Suddenly the bleak, rocky hillside felt far too empty around us. The cool breeze sent goose bumps skittering
across my skin. I took a quick look behind me. No one else was in sight, or in calling distance. The massive stone walls of the manor house, below us, were so thick that no one would hear if I cried out.

I moistened my lips and raised my chin as I turned back to Sir Neville. “I’m afraid I don’t quite take your meaning, sir.”

“No?” He raised his thick, dark eyebrows. “You surprise me. In fact …” He stepped forward, forcing me to step back again. The breeze ruffled the black hair across his sloping forehead. His gaze fixed upon me like a hawk intent on mesmerizing his prey. “You surprise me a great deal, Miss Katherine. You are not what I’d expected.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Then pray allow me to enlighten you.”

His hand shot out and caught my wrist. I stumbled, preparing to twist away and escape—but he only tucked my hand into the curve of his forearm like any gentleman might, courteously giving a lady his arm for support. But his touch did not feel at all courteous. It tingled in all the wrong ways, like a thick, smothering cloak sweeping around me, muffling my breath.

A smoky, bitter scent flooded my nostrils, like burned meat. I would have turned to look for the source of the smell, but I didn’t want to look away from Sir Neville. As his strong, hot fingers pressed against mine, I shivered and swallowed down sickness.

“It is cold, is it not?” Sir Neville said. “Do let me persuade
you to take a turn around the house with me. Exercise is very warming. And it is always so much easier to have a proper discussion as one walks.”

I dug in my heels and strained my ears, listening for any sound in the distance. Even Mr. Gregson would be welcome right now—at least he and Sir Neville might distract each other long enough for me to escape. What would Angeline do in this situation? What would Mama have done?

Not magic, that was for certain.
You would do well to shield your magic when he is nearby,
Mr. Gregson had said, and I believed him. Not that I knew enough magic to get away anyway. Somehow, I didn’t think Sir Neville would be fooled if I suddenly turned back into Lady Fotherington right in front of him.

So I was on my own.

“I should go back,” I said. “My sisters are looking for me, as you said. And—”

“And?” Sir Neville asked. His smile curved unpleasantly. “And—having listened to a bit of vulgar gossip, perhaps, about my past—you are afraid to be alone with me?”

That did it. “I am not afraid,” I said, and met his eyes with a glare. “Not of you or of anybody else!”

“I am very pleased to hear it,” said Sir Neville. “In that case, your sisters can wait for just a few minutes longer.”

He walked forward, pulling me by my trapped hand and guiding me the rest of the way up the rocky hillside. Seething, I followed his direction.

No one could call me a coward.

But I had a nasty feeling that my sisters might call me a fool, for letting myself be tricked so easily.

Never mind
, I told myself. After all, no matter what Sir Neville thought he was up to, this ought to be a perfect opportunity for advancing my own schemes. If I wanted to find a way to save Elissa from him, what could be better than a private conversation, to find out what he really wanted?

“Rumors,” Sir Neville said reflectively, as we reached the top of the hill, “can be so deceptive, can they not?”

“Um … I suppose so?” I said. This was starting to sound like one of my least favorite kinds of conversation—Elissa’s reflections on Morality in Private and Public Life.

As we walked along the long, rambling top of the hill above Grantham Abbey, the whole countryside stretched underneath us—the great stone manor leading down to the stone ruins, empty now, and the wild river beyond. The woods across the river looked thick and impenetrable, and I remembered the discussion of highwaymen at dinner last night. At least that had been interesting. Shouldn’t a private conversation with a dangerous wife-murderer be even more exciting?

“My past, for instance, has garnered the most remarkable set of rumors,” Sir Neville said. “Rather amusing, actually, in their absurdity. And even yours …”