Courting Magic (Kat, Incorrigible #4)(34)

“Just give it all to Alexander,” I said. “I mean, Mr. Harding.” It hardly even hurt to say his name, I felt so tired and numb. “I have everything I need.”

And I did. Unlike Alexander, I had a family who loved me. I had a home. I had security. I had everything…except a piece of myself that had walked away with him.

What did honors from the Crown mean next to that?

“Hmm,” said Mr. Gregson, giving me a thoughtful look. “If you insist, I will pass on your request that Mr. Harding be alone in accepting any honors or monetary rewards.”

I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s the least that he deserves from our Order. When you consider everything he’s done—and everything he should have inherited from his father, if…oh, never mind.” I sighed, cutting myself off and reaching for my amethyst ring.

I couldn’t let myself think about Alexander anymore—not if I wanted to keep my safe, numb shell in place. Luckily, all I had to do was twist the ring on my forefinger to carry myself back to Elissa’s house and wrap myself up in my blankets for hours. There, I wouldn’t have to think about anything.

But Mr. Gregson spoke before I could leave. “Did you know that your sister Mrs. Carlyle has invited me to a dinner at her house on Wednesday?”

“Has she?” I blinked, struggling through my fog to remember the right social cue for the situation. “Well. It will be lovely to see you, of course.”

He frowned slightly, his spectacles shifting as he cocked his head. “Is there anything amiss, Kat?”

“Nothing,” I said. “What could there be?”

There was nothing to be done, so nothing was amiss, and I would simply have to accustom myself to the gaping hole inside me where everything bright and colorful and right had ever been.

Perhaps it would come back in time. But it hadn’t returned by Wednesday evening as I helped Angeline make the final sweep of her perfectly elegant drawing room and dining room, with their rich red-and-gold furnishings and tall sprays of flowers.

Mr. Gregson was one of the first arrivals, greeting my father with obvious pleasure. Within minutes, they were huddled in a corner together, vigorously debating a set of ancient texts that no one else in the room had ever heard of. Soon afterward, various couples arrived who were friends of Angeline and Frederick, followed by Lucy and her aunt, who were jointly escorted by a still-foolishly-smiling Lord Lanham. The drawing room filled more and more until finally only one guest was left, judging by the number of place settings that I’d overseen on my sister’s dinner table.

It wouldn’t be Alexander, of course. Angeline knew that he wouldn’t be coming. I only hoped it wasn’t an eligible young man. Even for my sisters, I didn’t think I could pretend to any interest in one tonight.

The butler, Henshawe, cleared his throat as he stepped into the drawing room’s doorway. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, in a tone of weary condescension, “Lord Ravenscroft has arrived.”





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


“Lord Ravenscroft?!” I said, into the sudden thunderstruck silence.

Lord Lanham had leapt to his feet on the other side of the room, but I had no attention to spare for him. All of my focus was on Henshawe’s looming figure, and on his impossible announcement.

Lord Ravenscroft was dead, and his title had died with him. There could be no other Lord Ravenscroft. The man who’d tried to murder my brother and steal my magic, the Guardian who’d threatened all England with his treason…

Henshawe stepped aside, and Alexander walked into the room.

The numb shell I’d carried around me for days cracked straight through. Emotions flooded in on me, leaving me shaking with reaction. Suddenly it hurt to breathe. It hurt to feel…but I couldn’t look away from him.

He was wearing the same closely fitted black coat and fawn-colored breeches that he had worn to the ball on Friday, paired with a deep forest-green waistcoat that matched his eyes and an elaborately knotted white cravat. His chin was raised high, and his face wore the haughty expression that I knew signaled deep uncertainty from him, but in the dimly lit drawing room, the outfit made him look almost forbidding in its elegance.

Of course, his father had been even more fashionable. But…

“Mrs. Carlyle,” Alexander said, and bowed to Angeline, who was still sitting, caught by surprise for once in her life, staring as if dumbstruck from a winged armchair. “I beg your pardon if I’m late.”

Angeline shook herself and stood. “Not at all,” she said, moving toward him. “I…take it that you are the additional guest Mr. Gregson had mentioned to me?”

“Indeed,” Mr. Gregson murmured. He was by my side, suddenly, although I hadn’t noticed him stepping forward. “I do beg your pardon for the mystery, Mrs. Carlyle, but I wasn’t certain which name to give the young man. So much was still to be decided, you see, when you first issued your invitation, and I was waiting to see how quickly official arrangements could be made.”

“But…” I began.

Lord Lanham said, “But surely—”

“Ahem.” Mr. Gregson coughed. “Perhaps the four of us could speak privately for just one moment, Mrs. Carlyle?”

“Of course.” Angeline was half-smiling, now, a look of wonder on her face, while Stepmama waved her fan wildly in the background. “I cannot wait to find out all the details later.”