Changeling (Sorcery and Society Book 1)(40)

Mrs. Winter didn’t give one floating fig for my preferences.

“Owen, please go introduce your cousin to our hostess. A distant cousin of mine, you’ll remember her from the Yule celebrations on my side of the family.” Mrs. Winter waved casually to a woman across the ballroom, who seemed to be trying to taking flight, given the way she was flinging her arm about. She turned and leveled us both with her frank blue eyes. “Children. Behave.”

I let loose a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Owen was staring at me.

“She meant you,” I told Owen.

“I’m not the one who was raised in a literal barn,” he muttered back.

“And yet, you’re the one with the bad manners,” I told him, ever so subtly stomping on the instep of his foot under the cover of my puffy skirt. To his credit, his face barely registered the pain.

“They’ve armed you with pointy shoes,” he grumbled.

I giggled behind my hand, Owen led me to a green silk settee where a plump, jowly woman with thick white hair was seated, her black satin skirts furled around her.

Owen’s voice was impossibly smooth as he bowed slightly and made the most proper speech I’d ever heard come out of his mouth. “Mrs. Dalrymple, may I present my dear cousin, Miss Cassandra Reed. Cassandra, Mrs. Eugenia Dalrymple.” Mrs. Dalrymple peered at me through a pair of silver lorgnettes, her lips pressed into a thin line. I could make out white apple blossoms embroidered on the high collar of her dress, marking her as a Brandywine by birth.

I glanced over my shoulder to where Mrs. Winter was holding court. She gave me a frosty smile, though I’m sure it was more of a facial reminder than a bolstering gesture.

Fortunately, Owen stepped in. He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Dalrymple, I was just telling dear Cassandra about your impressive greenhouses. My cousin has an interest in plants. She just completed a school project on drosera plants. Headmistress Lockwood was very impressed by her analysis of their feeding habits.”

Mrs. Dalrymple’s considerable grey eyebrows shot up, as did mine, because I didn’t know how Owen was aware of my first-day tangle with Headmistress Lockwood’s carnivorous plant. Did his mother tell him? “Really, my dear? Is Headmistress Lockwood still lording her drosera aureus specimen over the underclasswomen?”

“Does she really use the younger girls to feed the plant?” I asked, barely containing the quirking of my lips. “I suspected as much, but I was afraid the other girls would laugh if I asked.”

Mrs. Dalrymple shook her head, her grey curls bobbing. “Oh, no, she’s always fed that dratted plant from the school’s flock of chickens. But she lets the younger girls believe they could be selected to ‘donate’ to the cause. It serves as a behavioral deterrent.”

“I will do my best to behave,” I told her.

“Or at least give the appearance of behaving,” Owen said in mock solemnity.

I frowned at him and tapped his wrist with my fan, making Mrs. Dalrymple chuckle.

“I don’t believe any lady should accept censure from you on proper behavior, young man,” Mrs. Dalrymple scolded. “Now, go fetch your lovely cousin some punch while we become better acquainted.”

“Of course,” Owen said, inclining his head. “And would you like some strawberry tarts, cousin?”

I narrowed my eyes at my “cousin.” Strawberry tarts were at the top of the list of “forbidden” party foods as they were awkward to eat and capable of producing awful stains. And Owen knew that I’d developed a taste for them before leaving for school.

I shook my head, while giving him the slightest glare. From his expression, I could tell he wasn’t the least bit sorry. Mrs. Dalrymple made an exaggerated show of moving her skirts aside so I could sit next to her on the settee. I dropped gracefully to the seat, praying I wouldn’t whack the hostess’s ankles with my underskirts.

“Are you enjoying Miss Castwell’s?” she asked. “Is it very different from what you are used to? Where was that again? Cambridgeshire?”

As Mrs. Winter instructed, I considered the question – and any hidden pitfalls therein – before answering. “Yes, it is very different from Cambridgeshire. And my cousins have been very kind to me, indeed. I don’t know where I would be without them.”

Technically, it was true. Without Mrs. Winter, I had no idea whether I would be locked up at some Coven Guild Enforcement facility.

“And school? Are you enjoying your classes? Making friends?”

“Everyone has been very kind.”

“And the book? I understand you made quite the stir on your first day.” She glanced at the mark on my palms.

Now, we had arrived at the heart of it. How to respond to what most Guardians would consider incredible good fortune and privilege, when so far, being chosen as Translator has only meant confusion and strange new skin conditions for me. Mrs. Winter had warned me to be quietly and appropriately proud, but not tiresome. So I simply smiled and said, “I hope that I will be able to Translate useful spells as soon as possible.”

“I am glad to hear it. You must meet my granddaughter, Ivy. I’m sure she would be happy to introduce you to some of the younger people here. Your cousin seems to have disappeared in his search for punch. Tragic story. It happens more often than you would think.”