“Mm,” I said. “Delicious. You should really try some. It might do wonders for your temper.”
The crowd was shifting behind and around us, suffocatingly close on all sides. The Wingates hadn’t been exaggerating after all—everyone in Bath Society must have been in attendance. It was a struggle to stay next to Angeline as we moved away from the water fountain, but I was determined not to let her leave me behind—especially when I saw her eyes light up in triumph. She started forward. I pressed after her.
A gentleman’s elbow knocked straight into my arm, tipping the water glass askew.
Warm water splashed across my arm and soaked through the reticule that hung from my wrist.
“I do beg your pardon,” said a familiar voice. “I—good God! Miss Katherine!”
I turned. My mouth fell open. I was facing my erstwhile tutor, Mr. Gregson. …
… And a familiar, magical heat was suddenly emanating from my reticule.
Mama’s magical mirror had reawakened.
Nine
“What are you doing here?” I blurted. The reticule was radiating heat against my arm, and I was caught between joy and terror. If Mr. Gregson realized what had just happened …
“I might ask the same of you.” He adjusted his spectacles and looked around. “Your sisters—your stepmother—”
“Elissa is on her wedding trip, touring the Lake District. Angeline …” I bit my lip. Angeline had disappeared into the crowd. I couldn’t spot even a glimpse of her dark head anymore.
Worse yet, at any moment the golden glow of the newly awakened mirror might shine through the thin beaded reticule. Feeling its heat was the best thing that had happened to me since Elissa’s wedding, but it was also the worst-timed. If Mr. Gregson realized it had returned to its former power, would he feel required to report it to Lord Ravenscroft?
I tucked the reticule into my side, holding my arm tight against it, and gestured with my empty water glass to distract him. “Angeline is here too. And Stepmama. And Papa and Charles.”
“Indeed.” My former tutor looked perturbed. “You dragged all of them here with you?”
“I didn’t drag them. They dragged me. After Mrs. Carlyle ruined Elissa’s wedding, Stepmama decided—”
“My dear girl,” Mr. Gregson said. “I do hope you think too highly of me to try fobbing me off with one of your usual wild stories. They may deceive everyone else of your acquaintance, but—”
“What wild stories?” I said. Then I thought of a few he’d heard me tell since we’d met, and the one I’d told Mrs. Wingate just yesterday. “Oh. Well, I know the kind of stories you mean, but—”
“Can you truly expect me to believe it mere coincidence that you should appear now, just after Lord Ravenscroft’s arrival in Bath?”
“Lord Ravenscroft!” I cursed the shifting crowd of people around me. Anyone could be lurking in this packed room, hidden from view until it was too late. My arm tightened around my reticule, despite its heat. “Where—?”
“You should not have come, Katherine.” Mr. Gregson shook his head. “I understand your reasoning, but you are too impetuous. You will only alienate him further by pursuing him in such an immodest fashion, and just when he is in the middle of managing a crisis.”
I snorted and raised myself up on my tiptoes to peer through the crowd. “Trust me, I have no intention of pursuing him.”
“If you wish to have any hope of someday being restored to membership in the Order—”
“I do!” I snapped my full attention back to Mr. Gregson, and landed back on the flats of my feet with a thud. “Can I? Is it even possible?”
“Probably not,” Mr. Gregson said. “I said nothing before because I did not wish to raise your hopes in vain. I can only hope to eventually persuade Lord Ravenscroft to relent—in two or three years at the very earliest—if he can be convinced that you have become truly subdued, grown into ladylike propriety and self-control, and sincerely regretful of your immoderate temper. Or in other words, if you can refrain from irritating him any further in the meantime.” He gave me a stern look. “If he sees you here now, having followed him to argue your case even though his decision was already declared to be final …”
And pretending to be Lady Fotherington’s goddaughter, I added silently. I winced. “What can I do?”
“Go home,” he said. “Today, if possible. Before any more harm can be done.”
“I can’t do that.” I slumped, hugging the reticule to my side. “Stepmama would never allow it.”
Mr. Gregson coughed meaningfully. “Your sudden sense of filial obedience, while admirable, is hardly well-timed.”
“You don’t understand. It’s different this time. She’s in a rage, and if Angeline doesn’t—oh, Lord!”
The crowd had shifted yet again, and through the gossiping groups, one couple was left directly in my line of sight: Angeline … and the person she must have been looking for ever since we’d arrived.
Viscount Scarwood.
“I have to go,” I said, and hurried forward without waiting for Mr. Gregson’s reply.
The crowd shifted as I moved, and I lost sight of my quarry. But I knew their direction now, and I pushed my way through the groups, using my elbows when I needed to and ignoring the gasps and imprecations in my wake. That one glimpse I’d had had been enough to confirm all my worst fears: Angeline listening to Viscount Scarwood with her eyelashes lowered, her hands modestly clasped … and a smile tugging at her lips.
I was almost certain I knew what her scheme was now. It was the worst one she had thought up yet.
As I came up behind them, I heard Viscount Scarwood drawl, “Did you really expect not to see me here? After such an unforgettable encounter?”
“Unforgettable?” Angeline said. “But, my lord, I am afraid I had already forgotten it.”
“Then I shall have to remind you.” His big hand reached out. In defiance of every law of propriety, I could see he was about to touch her cheek.
She did not step away from him.
I pushed myself between them before his fingers could reach her skin. “Angeline,” I said, “Stepmama wants you.”
“Ah. The ferocious younger sister.” I didn’t have to look at Viscount Scarwood to know that he was smirking.
I ignored him. “Stepmama—”
“I heard you the first time,” Angeline said. “And it is pure nonsense. Stepmama is busy gossiping with a dozen of Mrs. Wingate’s closest friends, and the last thing she wants is for me to interrupt them.”
“How foolish of her. But her loss shall be my gain.” Viscount Scarwood offered Angeline his arm. “Will you have pity on me and grant me a promenade around the room, so I may attempt to make a more lasting impression upon you, now that I finally know your name? Angeline?”
“‘Miss Stephenson’ would be a more proper way to address me,” Angeline murmured.
“Ah, but we all know what you think of propriety and Society, don’t we?”
“Angeline!” I said. “Stepmama wants—”
Angeline took Viscount Scarwood’s arm and smiled dazzlingly. “Then you may tell her exactly where I am. Good-bye, Kat.”
They sailed forward together and were swallowed by the crowd. Maddeningly, my glare didn’t burn even the smallest hole in either of their backs.
Charles’s voice spoke over my head a moment later. “I say, Kat. I’m moving on from here—dashed dull place, this. You’ll tell Stepmama I made my apologies, won’t you?”
“You’ve found somewhere to gamble,” I said flatly. I didn’t bother to look up at him. I was still glaring in the direction Angeline and Scarwood had gone. Some of the people in my line of sight were starting to look askance at me, but I didn’t care.
“No! I say. Nothing of the sort.” Charles sounded positively lively with indignation. “I’m off to look at a couple of horses, that’s all. There are some fellows here from Oxford, and they’re offering—”
“Never mind,” I said. I knew fo
r a fact that Charles couldn’t afford even a single horse of his own, but I wasn’t in the mood to debate it with him. I had watched my older brother walk around in a daze for the last three months, ever since he’d been sent down from Oxford, and nothing I had tried had helped him. Now he’d finally woken up … but only because he’d met the same friends who’d gotten him into trouble in the first place! Well, if he honestly preferred the idiots who’d taught him to drink and gamble to his own family … I took a deep, steadying breath. “If Stepmama asks me, I’ll tell her what you said.”
“You’re a good sort, Kat.” He started to turn away, then stopped. “Oh, by the way, I thought I ought to mention—I saw that fellow Scarwood making up to Angeline again, and she didn’t seem to be discouraging him, exactly. I’d have a word with her, if I were you. If Stepmama sees them together …”
“I know,” I said, and gritted my teeth. “Thank you, Charles.”
“Oh, well. Just thought I’d mention it.” He disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone and seething.
I had never missed Elissa so badly. If she were here, I could have let her be the one to worry about Angeline and lecture Charles and find a way to pacify Stepmama. If she were here, she could be the tiresomely responsible one, while I did whatever I liked and laughed at her for being so proper and prissy. If Elissa were here, Angeline would at least try to be discreet with her mad schemes, and even Charles would show some restraint, if only to avoid her scolds.
But Elissa wasn’t here, and I couldn’t take her place. I was making a mess of that just like I’d made a mess of my Guardianship. And I had had enough.
By now, the heat from my reticule had died down to mere warmth. I would be dashed if I’d waste any more of my time carrying messages to Stepmama from either of my siblings, or trying to turn the tide by stopping them from getting into even more trouble. If they could be irresponsible, then so could I. I turned around and pushed my way straight through the crowd, out of the Pump Room, and into the privacy of the ladies’ garderobe.
The reticule was still damp, and the warmth of the garderobe only magnified the scent of rotten eggs from the spilled water, mingling with the disgusting stench of the cramped room itself. The “convenience” inside wasn’t a mere chamber pot, thank goodness—it was one of the fashionable newer models, where the waste was left in a covered copper pan afterward—but with more than a hundred ladies passing through at various points, the smell rising from that pan into the tiny room was unutterably horrid. I reached into my reticule anyway, holding my breath. There were more important things than comfort right now.
Mama’s golden mirror was covered in transparent pearls of water, and it was glowing for the first time in days. I closed my eyes for a moment in sheer relief. Then I had to take a breath, and the stench forced my eyes back open. The sooner I was in the Golden Hall, the sooner I’d be free from the smells around me. And if Stepmama wondered where I was … well, then Angeline could be the one to scramble to make excuses for her sister this time.
I rubbed the mirror on my dress to dry it off. I didn’t think gold could be damaged by water, but water that smelled this bad was capable of anything. The glow had faded by the time the mirror was completely dry, but that didn’t matter—the mirror only glowed when it was excited, and I wasn’t surprised that its sudden reawakening, when I’d bumped into Mr. Gregson, had overexcited it. I actually preferred it when the mirror was calm and efficient like this, working without attracting anyone else’s attention. My own secret magic, and my sole connection to Mama.
I cupped the rounded mirror in both my hands and took a deep breath. “I fixed it, Mama,” I whispered. “I promised I would, and I did.”
I pressed the clasp on the mirror’s case. The lid flipped open.
Absolutely nothing happened.
Ten
I almost dropped the mirror onto the dirty floor of the garderobe. I remembered where I was only just in time to save it. In the mirror’s reflection, my face looked flushed and dangerous. I could feel a scream of pure fury working its way up from my chest. Wouldn’t it shock every one of Bath’s fashionable residents if I let it out?
Instead, I glared at my reflection. What had gone wrong?
The mirror really had been awake. I knew it had, for all of Lord Ravenscroft’s oaths and prohibitions. But something had put it to sleep again. I took a deep, calming breath, and nearly gagged on the odors that filled my throat and nose. Before anything else, I had to get out of this garderobe.
I tucked the mirror back into my reticule and marched out, head held high, past the line of fidgeting ladies in fashionable dress. The Pump Room was just as crowded now as when I’d left. I slipped into the moving crowd, hoping to stay out of sight of Stepmama. I needed to think. The mirror had awakened when I’d bumped into Mr. Gregson. So it was Mr. Gregson who must have …
No. I came to a standstill at the realization, and the couple behind me bumped into my back. I ignored them, and they stepped around me, muttering to each other.
The mirror hadn’t awakened when I’d bumped into Mr. Gregson. It had awakened when he’d bumped me and spilled my glass of stinky restorative Bath water across my reticule. Then the glow of the mirror had faded when I’d wiped off the last drops.
I was on the wrong side of the room to buy more water, and it would take me a good ten minutes to push my way back across the crowded floor. But I didn’t have to wait that long to make my experiment … not if I was really commited to it.
I turned in place, narrowing my eyes, and surveyed the crowd around me. I saw a group of dowagers, promenading in a clump with their feathered hats nodding at one another; I saw three giggling girls a little younger than Angeline being escorted by three gentlemen with impossibly high, stiff cravats pushing their chins up to awkward angles; and I saw … oh, perfect.
I aimed myself like an arrow straight toward them: a couple of pinched-looking women with perfectly enormous, brightly colored turbans and jeweled necklaces, holding full glasses of Bath water in their hands as they strolled side by side, sneering at the crowd around them. I caught fragments of their conversation on my way:
“She’s worn that same gown at least four times in the last two weeks, poor thing, and it looked perfectly wretched on her the first time.”
“Well, you can hardly expect a sense of fashion from someone with her dreadful family origins. Her great-grandfather was in trade, you know, even if they don’t want anyone else to remember that—ohhhh!”
I collided with both of them at once, my head turned in the opposite direction, as if I weren’t looking where I was going. But I hit exactly where I meant to, and my gasp of pretended shock was easily drowned out by theirs.
“Oh! Outrageous!”
“Such unbearable clumsiness!”
The lady with the crimson turban cried, “It’s all over my new gown!”
Well, that simply wasn’t true. A few drops of water had spilled onto her gown, perhaps, but I’d taken careful aim, and both of their glasses of water had spilled all over me … and especially onto my reticule, which was perfectly sopping—and beginning to feel wonderfully warm.
I’d been right. The Bath water might taste worse than anything I’d ever drunk, and it might or might not be as curative as everybody seemed to think … but it was certainly magical nonetheless. This time I wasn’t wiping off a single drop.
“So sorry,” I said, and smiled brilliantly at both of the gabbling ladies as I turned to sail back to the garderobe.
A thin hand clamped around my shoulder with the force of iron. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”
“Ah …” I met the furious gaze of the woman in the purple turban. “It’s all over my dress,” I said, and held out my arms to show her the evidence. “I have to find somewhere to dry it off.”
“Not before I find your mother and tell her exactly what you’ve done!”
“It was an accident,” I said. “I am terribly sorry.”
“I
am not interested in your excuses. A girl your age has no right to be allowed out in public until she has proven herself capable of good behavior. I have every intention of giving your mother a piece of my mind.”
“And so shall I,” the other lady added. Her giant crimson turban bobbled with the vigor of her nod.
I gritted my teeth. I didn’t have time for this! “Couldn’t I just buy you fresh glasses of water to replace the ones I spilled?”
“Enough!” Purple Turban snapped. “Lead us to your mother. Now!”
I sighed. “Very well,” I said as meekly as I could. I slumped my shoulders, letting resignation sag every line of my body. “This way,” I said. “But please don’t be too unkind. My mama has very weak nerves.”
“Ha. I’m not surprised, with such a horrid child.” Purple Turban’s fingers loosened as I turned. “She must certainly be informed—what are you doing?”
I wrenched myself free and shot through the crowd.
“Come back here!” Purple Turban screeched.
I barreled through the crush of people, ignoring the cries and sounds of outrage behind me. I aimed myself straight at the door. Two feet shy of it, a hand grasped my arm. I spun around.
It was Lucy Wingate, staring at me. “Why, Miss Katherine. Whatever is the matter? You look so—so—”
“The press of the crowd,” I said. “Too much for me.” I turned back to look, breathing hard. I couldn’t see Purple or Crimson Turban, but the crowd was shifting restlessly, and I didn’t trust either of them to give up easily. “I’m afraid your sister was right. It was all a bit too much after country life.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Lucy’s eyes lit up. “But I have it! I’ve been wanting so badly to go back to the circulating library, but Maria has never been in the right mood. Would you care to accompany me there now, Miss Katherine?”
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