Heartless(61)

“Don’t flatter yourself, Lady Catherine. I sneak up on everyone like that.” Lifting a back leg, Cheshire began to clean himself in an inappropriately cat-like manner.

Catherine rolled her eyes and settled into the divan again, shuffling the book pages to try and find her spot. “No, I do not intend to respond to my sovereign’s letter. I am trying not to encourage his attentions as much as can be helped.”

“Has that proved to be an effective technique?”

“Not terribly, but I am determined.”

“It seems that so is he. What are you reading?” His exuberant smile appeared above Catherine’s knee and his striped tail flicked out, lifting the book so he could see the cover. She snarled at him, but he pretended not to notice. “Gullible’s Travels? Never heard of it.”

Cath snapped the book shut—the cat barely got his tail out in time. “Are you here for a reason, Cheshire?”

“Why, yes, I would enjoy a cup of tea. I take mine with lots of cream, and no tea. Thank you.”

With another sigh, Cath set down the book and headed to the kitchen. Cheshire was there waiting for her when she arrived and started to purr when she pulled a bottle of cream from the icebox.

“How is the royal courtship progressing?”

“This is the extent of it. He sends me gifts, I give them to my mother.”

“How romantic.” Cheshire lifted the saucer in both paws and downed the cream in a single swallow.

Catherine leaned against the counter and waited for Cheshire to finish licking his lips. “I have no need of romance,” she said, before adding, quieter, “at least, not from the King.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that you may have other prospects, though I would not have expected you to be thus charmed.”

She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“I had a delightful spot of milk with Haigha yesterday—he’s a Hare, and mad as march, but he did recall a lovely girl in attendance at the Hatter’s most recent tea party, a guest of none other than the court joker. Would you believe she had with her the most delectable macarons he had ever enjoyed? Now, who, pray tell, could he have been referring to?”

For a heartbeat, Cath thought to deny everything, but Cheshire was not the sort worth denying. Gossipmonger though he might be, he was also dedicated to obtaining reliable sources for his rumor mill.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Cheshire dug a claw in between his front teeth, as if worried he might have some cream stuck there. “Who would I tell?”

“Everyone. You would tell everyone, but I’m asking you not to. Please, Cheshire. My parents—”

“Would be devastated, and the King too. The Joker would likely lose his employment, and your reputation, along with any hopes you have for a proper match, would be ruined.”

“I don’t care about my reputation, but I don’t want to hurt my parents, or the King, or … or Jest.”

“You should care about your reputation. You know how people are. No matter how tasty your desserts, none of our lords or ladies would deign to shop at a bakery run by a fallen woman.”

She shrank away. “Cheshire. Please.”

“Don’t give me those puppy-dog eyes. You know how I despise puppy dogs. I won’t tell anyone, though I can’t make promises for the rest of the party guests. I only came to make sure you were unscathed.”

She shuddered. “Haigha must have told you about the Jabberwock then.”

“Yes, my dear. And the brave sacrifice of the Lion, that most noble of felines.”

Cath shut her eyes against the sorrow that hit her every time she remembered the Lion’s final moments. His defiant roar. His golden body braced between her and the monster.

“The Jabberwock must be stopped,” she said. “First the courtiers, and now this. Surely the King is doing something?”

“Oh yes, the King is quite busy these days. Penning love letters and such.”

She let out a frustrated noise. “These attacks aren’t going to stop on their own. Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“I don’t care for that royal we, but I’ll advise you to avoid any more late-night excursions. Though the loss of the Lion is tragic, I did not know him personally. Whereas you, Lady Catherine, I might actually feel compelled to miss.”

“That’s sweet, Cheshire. I promise to be more careful. No more tea parties.” She gulped. “And no more jokers. At least, not until I’ve come to a decision with the King.”

Cheshire stared at her with his slitted eyes and too-many teeth.

“What?”

“You really are taken with him, aren’t you?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I’m already in a courtship, you know.”

“But is the King the one you wish to be courting?”

“It doesn’t seem to matter what I wish.” She returned the cream to the icebox. “Not who I wish to be courting, not what I wish for my future to hold.”

“You have the chance to be a queen, Catherine. What else is there?”

“Oh, Cheshire, not you too. I don’t want to be the Queen of Hearts. I don’t understand how I’m the only one who doesn’t see the appeal of it.”