Kat, Incorrigible (32 page)

When I glimpsed Sir Neville’s carriage ahead, I leaned over my horse’s neck and urged him on. We flew past the jet-black carriage and sent my laughter back to Sir Neville through the wind.

It took me only ten more minutes to spot the second
carriage on the road—one of Lady Graves’s green and gold traveling carriages, borrowed for the journey. It was traveling at a snail’s pace, as if even the driver thought that leaving was a bad idea.

It was hardly even a challenge. The driver faced away from me, and no footman had accompanied this journey. Nobody even turned to note my arrival.

Until I drew the pistol from my jacket and fired it straight into the air.

The horses leaped straight up. The carriage jerked to a stop. The driver’s full attention had to stay on the horses as he fought to control them; he could only throw one swift, wide-eyed look back at me, in my boys’ clothing and full, swirling black cloak.

The carriage door jerked open. “What the devil—?” began Frederick Carlyle.

I rode straight up to his open door. “Stand and deliver!” I said, and grinned.

“Miss Katherine?” He stared at me and shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re playing at this time, but I can’t—”

“Oh, yes, you can,” I said, and pointed the pistol at him. “Your money or your life,” I said. “And since I know you don’t have any money on you …” I shrugged. “There’s only one possible solution.”

I could see him fighting not to laugh. “Is that pistol even loaded, or did you just fire the only bullet in it?”

I raised both eyebrows at him. “Does it matter?”

“Do you honestly believe you can make me—”

“I know one thing,” I said. “My sister is up in her bedroom crying her eyes out over you right now.”

Mr. Carlyle went still. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “Angeline Stephenson doesn’t care a jot for me. I’m just—”

“You’re her true love,” I said. “That’s what her magic spell was for: to summon her true love. And it worked, even if you haven’t realized it yet.”

“But …” He took a deep breath. “Listen to me, Kat,” he said. “If you’re making this up just to bring me back—”

“If I am,” I said, “then you can go ahead and shoot me with this pistol, and then we’ll find out for sure if it’s loaded.”

He began to laugh. “I sincerely hope it isn’t,” he said, “because you’ve been holding it all wrong for the past five minutes. With the way you live, you really do need someone to teach you how to point a pistol properly before you get much older.”

“That’s up to you,” I said. “So? What’s your decision?”

Frederick Carlyle shook his head. “Come,” he said. “Get in the carriage, and you can tell me everything that happened after I left, and how you managed to defeat Sir Neville and probably bluff your way into a fortune or even a knighthood or kingship, too, in some scandalously rapscallion manner I can’t even begin to imagine. It can be my bedtime story on the way back to Grantham Abbey.” He reached up and banged the roof of the carriage. “Turn
around!” he called to the driver, and he gestured me inside.

I looked at the safe, comfortable, cushioned seats of Lady Graves’s carriage, and I shook my head. “No, thank you,” I said. “But I’ll be waiting there when you arrive.”

I rode back to Grantham Abbey in the moonlight, while the wind ruffled my hair and blew the cloak out around me, and the pistol bumped satisfyingly against my side, promising more adventures yet to come.

I was twelve years of age when I cut my hair short, became a highwayman, and captured husbands for both of my sisters.

I could hardly wait to find out what would happen next.

Huge thanks and love to my parents, Kathy and Richard
Burgis, who introduced me to Jane Austen and shared their love of her books with me at a ridiculously early age, sparking a lifelong passion. And many thanks to my wonderful grandma, Sandra Burgis, for trading Georgette Heyer novels with me and forgiving me when I woke her up by giggling over them in the middle of the night!

Thanks so much to my brothers, Ben and Dave Burgis, for being my first readers, ever since we were little kids with a secret writing group. Every day I feel lucky to be your sister.

I owe my husband, Patrick Samphire, so many thanks that I couldn’t fit them all onto one page. From cheerleading my work to giving me the best critiques to handling all the housework and taking on extra child care so that I could write … You are the best, and I am so very lucky to be your wife. You’re not just my husband, you’re my very best friend and favorite writer in the world.

I owe so much to Barry Goldblatt, officially known as The Best Agent In The World™. Thank you so much for your enthusiasm and support for Kat and for me. They have made all the difference. I also owe enormous thanks to my wonderful and perceptive editor, Namrata Tripathi.
Thank you so much for believing in Kat and in me! I have been very lucky to be able to work with you. I’m also truly grateful to Lindsay Schlegel, for her efficiency and generosity, and to Valerie Shea and Jeannie Ng, my copyeditors, for doing such beautiful work.

Thanks so much to all the generous people who read and critiqued various drafts of this book: Patrick Samphire, Lisa Mantchev, Sarah Prineas, Jenn Reese, Justina Robson, Ben Burgis, David Burgis, Richard Burgis, Jenna Waterford, Tiffany Trent, Samantha Ling, and Karen Healey. Lisa, thank you so much for our literary tea party, with its exchange of red-ribbon-wrapped manuscripts. Without it, I might never have had the courage to write that very first draft that had been calling to me for so long. And Jenn and Justina, thank you both so much for showing such total enthusiasm and commitment to Kat, above and beyond the call of friendship! There were so many times when I was feeling discouraged and you two saved me.

Thank you to Delia Sherman, who has provided invaluable advice and encouragement over the past few years, as well as being a wonderful role model. Thank you to Caitlin Blasdell for an incredibly useful and provocative discussion about Kat’s world. Thank you to Caroline and
E. R. Hooton for their generous help with research. And thank you to my community of friends on
www.livejournal.com
, who have cheered me on when I was nervous, comforted me when I was lost, and joined with me in all my celebrations. You guys are the best!