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

Mr. Packenham’s upper lip curled in a sneer. The Marquess raised his eyebrows, and his chin, and I lost my very last shreds of interest in his blond good looks.

Rolling my eyes at them both, I stepped forward to be pleasant. Clearly, no one else was going to bother.

“Good afternoon,” I began. “I hope…”

The friendly greeting dried up in my mouth as Mr. Gregson and his guest finally turned around.

The man facing me might be dressed in a plain coat, but he held his chin tilted just as proudly as the blond Marquess…

…And he looked at me with fierce green eyes that were instantly familiar, though I’d never expected to see them again.

“Alexander?” I whispered.





CHAPTER TWO


It was ridiculous to gape at a young man like a ninny just because he had kissed my hand five years ago. Some girls had their hands kissed every day.

Some girls liked having their hands kissed by all and sundry. I certainly didn’t care for any such nonsense. I could hardly even remember what he’d said that night on the beach in Devon before he’d walked away, after fighting side by side with me in the hardest magical battle of my life.

“It’s not finished. I promise you that. I will see you again.”

No, I could hardly remember that at all. I certainly hadn’t ever thought it about it since then. Especially not at night, before I fell asleep. Or when I was scanning the crowds in the most unlikely places, looking for those broad shoulders and remembering the tingling, breathless feeling of his lips brushing against my hand.

Only a foolish, frivolous sort of girl would spin any fancies out of that. And I definitely wasn’t that sort of girl.

So it was just as well that I didn’t care a jot for what he thought of me now, after five whole years apart. And it was particularly fortunate that I’d never once imagined the way we might meet again, or what I might say or do if we did…

…Because, I realized with a sudden, horrible jolt, I certainly wasn’t dressed for the part.

His intent green gaze had finally moved away from my face. It dipped down to take in the bizarre waves of muslin gathered around me, bristling with pins.

The impossible-to-read expression on his face quivered. Then it broke as laughter burst out of him.

I hated that his laugh sounded so good, even in the middle of my most squirming embarrassment. It sounded deeper than I’d remembered. It had filled out, like the rest of him.

“I might have known,” he said. “You’re never what I expect.”

“Oh…really!” I swung around, glaring at every man in the room. “Is everyone in England obsessed with my attire today? Because all day long, no one I know has discussed anything else!”

Mr. Packenham snickered. The Marquess cleared his throat, looking pained.

“Well,” said Alexander, in his familiar-unfamiliar, deeper voice, “if you wanted not to draw attention, perhaps you could have considered a more ordinary sort of gown? Or is what you’re wearing actually the fashion in high society right now?”

“I was in a hurry!” I said. “How many times do I have to repeat that?” I thrust my hands into my hair, scattering hairpins to the golden floor. “Am I the only one who thought this meeting was meant to be urgent? Or—”

“Ahem.” Mr. Gregson moved forward. “My lord,” he said to the Marquess, “may I present Alexander Harding, a young man who has done sterling work for England in the past five years? He has family connections to this Order…”

He paused, delicately, and I winced even as the other two young men looked up with interest. They might not know what he was referring to, but I could certainly understand why he wasn’t being more explicit.

Being the natural son of the last Head of the Order would be uncomfortable enough to explain even if the last Head hadn’t been revealed to be a murderous scoundrel and a traitor. I was trying not to look at Alexander anymore, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see him stiffening, his face drawing into that proud, haughty expression I remembered him using as self-defense before.

It hadn’t even struck me, until now, just how awkward it must be for him to step into the Guardians’ Golden Hall, knowing that his father had once ruled here—and had kept Alexander a secret from his fellow Guardians. Alexander might have inherited Lord Ravenscroft’s Guardian powers, but his illegitimacy ensured that he would never be accepted as a member of our Order, nor would he be granted a portal of his own to the Golden Hall.

“Not just this Order,” I said quickly, stepping forward before the other men could ask any questions. “You’ve been working for the other Order, haven’t you?”

“Other Order?” The Marquess frowned.

“Oh…that one.” Mr. Packenham let out a snort. “You know, old chap. The servants’ business.”

Alexander looked steadily across at Mr. Packenham. “Not only servants,” he said quietly. “Everyone who isn’t a member of your elevated social circle has our help.”

It was the social circle his own father had belonged to, of course; the social circle Alexander himself should have grown up in…except that Lord Ravenscroft had never bothered to marry Alexander’s mother. She had been a witch, after all, and the Order of the Guardians had always hated witchcraft. Worse yet, by Lord Ravencroft’s repellant standards, she had had no dowry to make her worthy of his respect or his more honorable attentions.