Courting Magic (Kat, Incorrigible #4)(5)
But he had been more than happy to train her son in wielding both Guardian magic and witchcraft in his service. As Lord Ravencroft’s magical heir, if not his legal one, Alexander had been treated by his lordship as a convenient, albeit shameful tool: much like a servant, but with far less honesty involved.
I hoped Alexander’s new Order gave him the respect he had always deserved.
I hoped he was happier now than he had been five years ago.
I hoped I didn’t look like anywhere near as much of an utter idiot as I felt when I suddenly realized that I was gaping at him…again.
I slammed my mouth shut and turned to Mr. Gregson. “So,” I said. “You have a mission for us?”
“Indeed.” He was gazing at me with a look of subtle but unmistakable amusement on his face. It made me nervous even before he continued, “In fact, you are dressed rather appropriately for it. I take it your sisters are preparing to introduce you to Society?”
I winced. “Unfortunately.”
“Mm.” His spectacles glinted in the golden glow that emanated from the walls as he tilted his head like an inquisitive bird. “May I ask exactly when it will begin?”
The thought of it was like a stone sinking deep in my stomach, but I couldn’t refuse to answer. “In three days,” I admitted. “First, Elissa’s going to bring me to the Hadlows’ ball on Friday, and then Angeline’s inviting a large group to dinner on the following Wednesday, and…” I rolled to a sudden stop, realizing all four men were listening with sharp attention. “Surely you can’t be interested in all of that?”
“On the contrary.” Mr. Gregson nodded to the Marquess. “I take it you can secure an invitation for yourself to the Hadlows’ ball?”
The Marquess let out something that wasn’t quite a snort, but was as close as any really proper nobleman could come to it. “That should hardly present a difficulty.”
“I’ve already got one,” Mr. Packenham volunteered. “But what about…him?” He didn’t even bother to look at Alexander as he spoke. “I suppose he could mingle with the servants?”
“An ingenious idea,” said Mr. Gregson, “but, in fact, securing Mr. Harding an invitation should be perfectly straightforward, once the Hadlows are brought to understand that he is a family connection of mine from the North.”
Both of the other young men turned to stare in outright disbelief at Alexander.
“I shall, of course, arrange for a new wardrobe,” Mr. Gregson added gently.
Alexander’s shoulders stiffened until I could almost read the protest in them, but he didn’t speak.
“But why?” I said. “Is something important happening at the ball? Because Elissa seemed to think it would be perfectly dreadf—I mean, perfectly proper.”
Alexander’s lips twitched as he met my eyes, warm understanding in his own. “Dreadfully proper, you mean?”
I rolled my eyes at him, ignoring the answering warmth in my chest. “You know what I mean.”
“I think we all do,” Mr. Gregson said, and sighed. “But that will make it all the more unexceptionable as a place to introduce three new suitors to your family.”
“What?” I was so shocked, I forgot to hold up my muslin draperies as I spun around. The sound of ripping fabric filled the air, but I didn’t bother to look down and see how much damage I had done. “You can’t be serious!”
The Head of the Guardians looked calmly back at me. “Can I not? Our illusionist is moving at exactly your sisters’ level of Society, stealing the guises of various members of the higher aristocracy in order to disguise his thefts in crowded ballrooms and dinner parties. How better could I place the four of you together to hunt him down at Society events than to inform the polite world that these three gentlemen are openly courting your hand in marriage?”
The Marquess looked as pained as if he’d just been asked to swallow an uncooked chicken.
Mr. Packenham snickered. “What ho, eh, Miss Stephenson? More fun than I was expecting from any mission.”
But I barely noticed either of their responses as I took in the undisguised horror on Alexander’s face.
So much for five years of fantasies.
***
I emerged from Elissa’s spare bedroom just in time to see Angeline hurrying up the stairs toward me.
“Oh, Lord, Kat!” Groaning, she came to a halt midway up the staircase. “First, I thought you’d fled for good out of some back window. Now you’ve managed to somehow rip all that fabric on your way?”
“Forgive me,” I said flatly, and lowered my head as I walked carefully down the steps, holding my torn muslin draperies around me. “I didn’t mean to do it.”
“Well, of course you didn’t mean to. You never…wait.” Her eyes narrowed. She put out one hand to stop me as I tried to step past her. “What’s happened?”
I saw myself as others see me. The thought felt like a hard lump in my throat.
I dismissed it, quickly. Who cared for fripperies and nonsense? I never had. Why should I start caring today about what one particular young man—one highly ineligible young man, as Elissa or Stepmama would have pointed out—happened to think of me?
Instead of saying any of that to Angeline, I shifted my shoulders in a tight shrug. “What could have happened? There’s no one here but us.” I looked meaningfully past her. “Shouldn’t we be hurrying back to wait for Madame Fontaine?”