Courting Magic (Kat, Incorrigible #4)(27)
Mr. Packenham might not have the inheritance or the social distinction that both he and his twin sister seemed to crave, but he had at least enough standing to have been a guest himself at the house parties where those thefts had taken place. Even if he’d stepped into the servants’ halls in his own guise to harass those poor girls, none of them would have dared to complain, for fear of losing their employment. Once he was disguised as a nobleman of the highest rank, he must have felt perfectly safe to inflict any indignities he chose on them, and to laugh as he pocketed their few treasures.
He was still doing it now, only wearing more impressive disguises to fool a higher class of victims. Still, one pertinent fact seemed to have remained constant: Mr. Packenham always preferred his prey—romantic or otherwise—to be as unprotected against him as possible. In his eyes, I had just lost that distinction.
I ground my teeth together as the musicians struck up a vigorous country dance. I needed to come up with an alternate plan, and quickly, but it was hard to think as I skipped my way around the circle at a breathless pace, passing from arm to arm without a break. Faces flashed past me as I spun around. Frederick was keeping a steely-looking gaze on me from the far side of the room, as promised; the Marquess loomed at the other end of the room, looking morose and as stiff as a stick; Lucy whirled past in the next circle over, laughing with infectious delight as long blonde strands of hair fell down around her face…
Aha. A smile swept across my own face as I returned to Mr. Packenham’s side.
“Mr. Packenham,” I called, over the noise of the music and the laughter and the feet stomping all around us. “Later this evening, there is someone I absolutely must introduce to you.”
***
“You must be mad!” the Marquess of Lanham hissed fifteen minutes after the dance had finished. We were standing near the refreshment table, surrounded by other guests, so he had to keep his voice to a ferocious whisper, but his tall figure was braced as if for battle. “Of all the irresponsible, impossible—”
“Oh, don’t fuss so!” I flapped half a macaroon at him to make him hush. Having skipped supper, I was absolutely starving. I crunched down the last of the treat with relish before I continued, “Lucy was happy to help.”
“Of course she was,” the Marquess snapped. “Because she’s just as reckless as you are, with just as little regard for her own safety! But—”
“And you should have seen his face when I told him about her,” I added smugly.
Mr. Packenham’s eyes had flared wide as I’d told him all about the fat family diamonds that Lucy’s eccentric aunt insisted she carry in her reticule at all times for good luck…and how that aunt, who usually kept an eagle eye on Lucy, was feeling horribly ill and distracted tonight.
It was the perfect—and only—chance he would ever have, and I could see from the light in his eyes that he’d realized it. A sober, sensible man might have given it up, knowing the danger of the other Guardians in the room; but Mr. Packenham, as I’d learned that evening, was neither sober nor sensible, and he had a grudge to pay against the Order, piled up all the way from childhood. Stealing Lucy’s diamonds while his colleagues hunted at the same ball would fill him with the most reckless glee.
Once I’d pointed Lucy out to him across the crowd, he had excused himself with such alacrity “to visit the card room, don’t you know” that I might have thought he was fleeing the scene of a crime…if I hadn’t been so happily certain that he was actually preparing to commit one.
Lucy, of course, had been utterly delighted when I’d drawn her aside to explain the plan to her. She had been the one to insist, for the sake of plausibility, that I cast a real transformation spell to change the hairpins in her reticule into diamonds. Their round corners bulged satisfyingly out of the reticule’s cloth sides, and I had to admit, they did add a nicely convincing tone to our ploy.
I glanced quickly across the room at her now, pleased to see her standing a little away from any clumps of people, near the edge of the room—just where it would be easiest for her to be approached without anyone else noticing. She gave me a knowing smile, and I realized that she’d chosen that position quite deliberately. She was ready to play her part. Better yet, with the position I’d chosen for myself, I would be the first to see when the little play began.
All that remained now was for me to quickly gather my coconspirators to follow after her…but the Marquess was proving to be absurdly recalcitrant.
“If you were correct, you would be placing her in grave danger!” he snapped. “But you can hardly accuse Lord Packenham’s own son of being a criminal. Their family has been in the Order for centuries! Packenham is a gentleman, not a witch.”
“Well, witchcraft runs in families, too,” I retorted in a low whisper. I kept my eyes fixed on Lucy’s distant figure as I continued, “And it’s inherited by every member of a family, not just the ungentlemanly ones. So as his twin sister most certainly is a witch…”
“His father,” gritted the Marquess, “is not only a Baron but also one of the most respected Guardians in our Order. Lord Packenham has a well-known history of duty and service and—”
“And have you noticed Mr. Packenham following in his footsteps so far?” I demanded.
The Marquess started to speak, then stopped, looking pained. Apparently, even he couldn’t go that far. Still, a moment later he said: “But he went to Eton!”