Rebel Magisters (Rebel Mechanics #2)(46)

*

That afternoon, I wrote an account of the rebel “tea party.” I wasn’t sure how much credit the Mechanics wanted to take or how public they wanted to be about their magic-dampening device. I settled for saying that “unknown parties” had carried out the raid, using “mysterious means” to defeat the magical security measures. When Mary came to alert me to dinner being served in the schoolroom, I handed it to her to pass on to her contacts within the Rebel Mechanics. I definitely didn’t want my “Liberty Jones” pseudonym to go on that one, and I tried to change my writing style so the authorship wouldn’t be obvious.

The next day, I forced myself to focus on lessons with the children and a brief outing to a museum with them, even though I longed to hear what Henry had learned from Maude and Camilla. He was home when we came back from the museum, but we didn’t have a chance to speak without an audience until teatime, when I brought the children to the parlor.

Flora played the piano and the other two eagerly told their grandfather about everything they’d seen in the museum, which gave Henry the chance to ask me how the children had behaved on our outing. When it was clear that no one was paying any attention to us, he said softly, “I’m afraid I have no news. They played innocent with me, claiming they had no plans, even though I could tell they were lying. They probably suspect I’ll run straight to the Mechanics to tell them everything.”

“That’s better than them suspecting you’ll run straight to the governor.”

He gave a wry grin. “True. I suppose we’ll have to wait and see what they do. That should make the ball more interesting.” He raised his voice slightly to normal conversational level and added, “Perhaps you should assign an essay about the museum. Or would that make museum visits seem too much like a chore?”

“I would prefer that the children learn to think of museums as fun, though Olive has already announced plans to write a story about the visit, and Rollo sketched weapons while we were there.”

“That should suffice for educational merit,” he said with a nod. “Thank you, Miss Newton.” He returned to the family, and I felt a pang at his departure. Even though he was only on the other side of the room, he may as well have traveled to another country. All I could do was look at him, and I didn’t even dare do much of that with the others present.

*

When the night of the ball came around, Mary helped me dress while a proper lady’s maid was hired to prepare Flora. Mary was able to lace my corset and do up all the buttons I couldn’t reach, but she wasn’t much better than I was at arranging my hair. The two of us laughed as each of her attempted fancy styles failed horribly. Flora would have been in tears and probably hurling hairbrushes, but I knew my appearance mattered little, as long as I didn’t embarrass the family.

“A ball must be a lot of fun,” Mary mused as she tried to anchor a twist with hairpins.

“I’m going there to work,” I reminded her. “As a chaperone, I’ll mostly sit along a wall and keep my eye on Lady Flora. At my last ball, I danced one dance.” It had been with Henry, and I could still recall every moment, every sensation.

“That’s not right at all,” she said with a sniff. She studied my head and added another hairpin. “You should get that Lord Henry of yours to dance with you.”

“He might be kind enough to do so, but I’m sure he’ll be much in demand as a partner for the other ladies.” I thought he’d also be dancing with them as a way to converse about recent events under the governor’s nose.

“But you can still look at all the pretty dresses. I bet it’s like something out of a fairy story.”

“The one ball I’ve gone to was,” I admitted.

“Well, I think you look lovely, miss,” she said, admiring her work in the mirror. I had to agree with her. The simple style she’d managed to create suited me better than any of her more elaborate attempted concoctions would have. “You have a grand time.”

Henry was already waiting downstairs, dressed in white tie and tails, his unruly sandy hair somewhat tamed for the occasion. He greeted me with a big smile. “You’re wasted as a chaperone, Miss Newton. You may be too busy dancing to keep an eye on Flora.”

“I hardly think that’s likely,” I said, hoping my cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt.

“You have to promise me one dance.”

“If you insist.” I added a hasty, “Sir,” when I realized that the governor had joined us.

“Still waiting for Flora, are we?” he asked Henry. “My daughters would have missed the first half of every ball if I’d let them take all the time they wanted getting ready.”

“I believe Flora’s too eager for this ball to risk missing any of it,” Henry said.

Only then did the governor seem to notice that I was present. He turned as though he’d only just caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of his eye, and he smiled in the way he’d greet an old friend he was glad to see. But once he turned to face me, he appeared to realize who I was, and his smile faded. “Miss Newton,” he said with a brusque nod. “You are aware of your duties?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” I bobbed a slight curtsy.

“And you’ll do what I asked you the other day? Keep your eyes and ears open.”