Whisper the Dead (The Lovegrove Legacy) (23 page)

She turned on her heel and bobbed a curtsy. “Lord Beau-regard.” He was as handsome as ever, in a green coat and buff trousers.

He bowed, eyes twinkling appreciatively. “Might I say you look very fetching in that dress.” She wore a mint-green muslin dress with a striped pelisse with cap sleeves overtop. The shade was almost exactly the same as his coat.

She blushed. “Thank you.”

“I wonder if we might talk awhile,” Lucius said, dropping his voice until it was like warm caramel. “I have—”

“Did you really buy your jailor a lemon ice?” Gretchen interrupted, her shadow falling between them.

“It’s burnt filbert, actually,” Penelope returned. “Because we like
him
, remember?” She peered behind her cousin. “Where is Tobias, anyway?”

Gretchen shrugged. “It was another student from Ironstone following me today,” she said. “I lost him ages ago.”

Ian just sighed. “It’s embarrassing, really,” he muttered.

“Shameful,” she agreed. “You lot could do better.”

Lucius looked surprised. “Surely you’re not saying you defied a Keeper.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I did. He was two years younger than me, and he blushed every time I glanced in his direction. He was like a puppy.”

“You’d think they’d learn to put a full guard on you,” Penelope teased.

“You’d think.”

“Where’s your maidservant?” Ian asked. Gretchen patted his arm with a kind but patronizing smile. He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Now you’re catching on.” She grinned, stealing a spoonful of Penelope’s ice. “Parmesan.” She grimaced. “You always choose the worst flavors.”

“Shall I have them bring you out an orange ice?” she suggested. “They were kind enough to deliver one to Cedric over
there.” She waved at Cedric, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and expression unreadable. Three sparrows, a cat, and a stray dog had already found him, sitting peacefully on the pavement at his feet. No matter how many times she asked him to join her, he never would. Was it any wonder she was so certain he did not have romantic feelings for her, despite her cousins’ constant suggestions otherwise?

“No thank you, I—” Gretchen broke off, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Headache?” Ian asked, concerned. “I’ll get you a chair.”

“It’s not that.” She squinted at Penelope’s embroidered reticule. It was a dark earthy brown velvet with birch tree branches forming magical runes. She was quite proud of the effect. “You dropped a stitch.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “As if you even know what a dropped stitch looks like.”

She grimaced. “Right there. That little line there changes the pattern of the protective spell so it’s not effective.” She rubbed her temples. “Believe me, I know exactly what it looks like.” She wiped a trace of blood off her ear.

Penelope paled. “Gretchen!”

Gretchen just waved away her concern with a smug grin. “I’m improving! It’s just a little spot and I wasn’t sick on anyone’s shoes.”

Lucius surreptitiously moved out of reach. “Might we find someplace … quieter?” he suggested to Penelope with that wicked smile that made her toes curl in her silk slippers.

“Sorry, mate,” Ian said. “I’m watching Penelope, and he’s
watching me.” He gestured at Cedric with his thumb. “This is as quiet as it gets.”

He looked frustrated. “Why don’t we walk in the garden then? Berkeley Square is lovely this time of year.”

Penelope took his arm when he offered it gallantly. She ignored Gretchen’s exchanging a pointed look with both Ian and Cedric, who had straightened away from the wall. Penelope was left relatively alone with Lucius, trailed by Ian, who was trailed by Cedric and Penelope’s own maidservant. Lucius glanced over his shoulder, amused. “You’re like a lovely swan with a train of lost ducklings.”

She laughed. “It is a rather odd situation.” She eyed him askance. “You’re not concerned for your reputation? I feel honor bound to point out that although Ian is a wonderful person, he’s here because the Order doesn’t trust me.”

“Then the Order is run by fools,” he said much more severely than she might have expected. Something must have shown in her face because he added lightly, “When a beautiful lady such as yourself is hounded, I believe the system is deeply flawed.”

Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. They crossed into Berkeley Square, which was five acres of paths through grassy lawn, sculptures, and a row of smooth plane trees with wide leaves and their peculiar spiky seed balls.

“I hope you’ll forgive my forwardness,” Lucius said. “But I have a gift for you.”

She peered up at him, from under the brim of her bonnet. Society would say that accepting gifts, exchanging letters, and
dancing more than two dances were declarations of your intent to marry. Gretchen’s mother would have demanded Penelope refuse the gift. “That’s very kind,” she said instead.

His smile widened. “When I found it, I thought of you,” he explained, guiding her to a bench under a tree. Dappled sunlight fell through the leaves. He pulled a small paper-wrapped parcel from the pocket of his great coat. “I’ve been carrying it around for days now, hoping I would see you.”

The package was only slightly larger than her palm and felt like a book. She tore into it eagerly, trying not to notice Cedric watching her from the other path. It shouldn’t have made her feel guilty and uncomfortable. She was enjoying the company of a young man who might return her interest. Surely, that was mature of her? Wouldn’t it be worse to pine hopelessly after someone? It was all fine and well for novels, but it was decidedly unpleasant in real life.

The tree above her filled with sparrows, watching her. Forgetting her assertion to be mature, she made a face at Cedric, knowing full well that he was using them to spy.

She undid the red ribbon and pushed aside the torn paper to reveal a small leather-bound book.
Shakespeare’s Sonnets
was stamped on the cover in elaborate gilded letters. She ran her fingertips over it. “Oh, it’s beautiful.” She flipped through the pages and partly dried rose petals tumbled into her lap.

“Take off your gloves,” he suggested. “The leather is soft as silk.”

She knew she shouldn’t do it, but it would be odd to refuse. And to touch something that might have been made during
Shakespeare’s own lifetime was too tempting. She tugged off her gloves. Lucius’s fingers were warm as they trailed over her wrist and across her palm, tracing her witch knot. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, could barely swallow. He dipped his head so that his mouth was close to her ear. “Go on, Penelope. Books are meant to be loved, aren’t they?”

The use of her given name sent a delicious shiver through her. She felt shockingly bare without her glove, something she would have considered absurd not five minutes ago. Licking her lower lip, she stroked the book. It was lamb-soft and smelled of dust, sunlight, and the curious sweet vanilla of old paper.

“You’re right.” She smiled up at him. “It’s so much bet—”

The world smeared, like paints on a palette.

Rain made the cobblestones slick, so she ducked into a nearby bookshop. The air was pleasantly dusty and dry. She smiled at the clerk. No, not her
. Lucius
smiled at the clerk. She had a moment to feel the tightness of his cravat and an impatience simmering below the surface
.

“Where is your Shakespeare?” he asked. “I’ve a mind to get a gift for a beautiful girl.”

He was talking about her
.

The vision fell away abruptly. She gave a start.

“Are you unwell?” Lucius asked, concerned. His eyes searched her face.

She smiled weakly. It was one thing to know about magic, and another thing to know that the girl you just gave a present to stepped into your head for a moment. He thought she was beautiful.

“I’m well,” she said, pressing the small worn book to her chest. “Perfectly well.”

“Are you sure about this?” Gretchen asked dubiously as the rain pattered though the leaves of the oak tree outside her house. “You should let me come with you.”

Emma shook her head. “We’d never shake Tobias off our trail. You know it as well as I do.”

Because she did, Gretchen scowled. “But who knows if that spell I made will even work properly?”

“I know it will.” Emma tucked the lodestone into her reticule, next to the poppet of Sophie. She stayed hidden inside the unmarked carriage so Tobias wouldn’t see her.

“Are you sure Virgil won’t follow you?” Gretchen wasn’t convinced.

“I slipped belladonna tincture in his tea, which I had Olwen bring to him outside the school. She told him she was worried he’d catch cold in all this rain. She’s pretty, so he believed her.”

“But she’s Cormac’s sister. He hates Cormac.”

“She’s
really
pretty.”

Gretchen shook her head. “Serves him right then.” She handed Emma a rolled piece of parchment. “If the first spell doesn’t work, try this one. They both need your blood.”

“It will work.”

“Emma, I’m only just now starting not to bleed out of my ears when I work my magic,” she pointed out. “Your faith in me
is touching and all, but it won’t do you much good when you’re alone in Windsor Forest.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll wrap a Fith-Fath glamour around me and no one will see me at all. And I’ll be back in time for breakfast. You’re fussing.”

“It’s much easier when
I’m
the one concocting foolish plans,” Gretchen grumbled. “Waiting at home is rubbish.” She stomped back up the lily-bordered path to the front door and disappeared inside. The carriage rolled away, and she had to stop herself from pressing her nose to the window to watch her cousin go. Worry gnawed at her. Or it would have done, if a shriek from the kitchens hadn’t interrupted.

Godric came out of the back parlor to join her as she rushed down the stairs to investigate. Smoke choked the air, drifting slowly up the steps. Two maids and a footman were in the hall, coughing. Light flickered ominously in the doorway to the kitchens.

“Fire!” Cook hollered, sounding more confused than scared. Godric tucked his chin into his cravat, and Gretchen unwrapped the bandeau in her hair and used it to cover her mouth and nose. The smoke was acrid and persistent.

Cook threw a bucket of wash water at the fire licking out of the hearth, but the flames ducked and split around it. She wiped sweat off her face, bewildered, before spotting the twins. “Get back! ’Tisn’t safe.”

Godric reached for another bucket from one of the scullery maids, who was pumping water as fast as she could. When he stepped around Cook to toss the contents, the fire growled, shooting up the walls. Something small but remarkably bulky
tumbled out, swiping at Godric. Godric stumbled, landing on his arse. “What the bloody hell was that?”

“Must be something stuck in the chimney and the wind is pushing all around it,” Cook guessed, trying to beat back the flames with a dishtowel.

“That’s no draft,” Gretchen whispered as the flames responded by coalescing into a squat goblin with red hair and feral eyebrows. Cook clearly saw the fire leaping about and behaving altogether oddly, but not the goblin. He cackled, voice scratchy from constant heat and smoke. He stomped his foot and the fire exploded in all directions. He cackled again before taking off, singeing the floor under his boots as he went.

“That little blighter.” Gretchen gave chase, leaping over Godric, still sprawled on the ground. She followed the fire goblin, trying desperately to remember if she’d read anything on how to defeat them in her grimoire. She settled for pelting him with whatever object came to hand: a teacup, a small potted fern, and three of her mother’s decorative crystal swans.

She eventually cornered him in the living room. The tassels on the footstools were smoldering. Smoke billowed mysteriously from under a settee. “Oi,” she said, borrowing one of Moira’s favorite words. The wards were in dismal shape if fire goblins were roaming Mayfair now. Cook might have been seriously hurt. And the next house might go up in flames if the inhabitants didn’t know a fire goblin when they saw one. “You’re not meant to be outside the markets.”

“I won’t go back,” he cawed, lunging for the marble fireplace with its stone lion heads. Fire licked out of their jaws. The dead coals in the grate crackled.

“Oh no you don’t.” Gretchen grabbed for one of the vases of flowers her mother liked to crowd on every available surface. If she didn’t have magic to use against him, she’d use common sense.

And a great deal of violence.

She threw the vase as hard as she could. White lily petals sailed through the air. The vase tipped, spilling some of the water. Gretchen watched it spatter uselessly over a chair. Finally, it struck the goblin on the back of the head with enough force to fling him into the marble fireplace. He slumped, groaning. Smoke sputtered from under his shirt. His eyebrows sparked but not enough to cause any real damage.

Godric ran into the parlor, skidding on the floor. “Did you get him?” He spotted the goblin teetering dizzily.

“We need to secure him,” Gretchen said, “before he catches his breath.”

Godric glanced around the room. “The urn,” he said. It was large enough that it had served as one of their favorite hiding spots when they were little. It was currently stuffed with ostrich and peacock feathers.

It took both of them to drag it from the corner. Gretchen’s arms were quivering by the time they reached the goblin. She used her entire body to push it until it toppled over the goblin with a thump, trapping him inside.

“Now what?” Godric leaned against it.

“Now we wave Tobias out of the bushes so he can come and deal with it.” Since he was the reason, unknowingly or not, that she hadn’t been able to join Emma, he ought to make himself useful. “Before Mother comes home.”

Godric paled, looking frightened for the first time that night. “Bollocks.”

Emma settled back onto the cushions, having already instructed the coachman to take her to her father’s townhouse after she’d visited Gretchen. She’d told Mrs. Sparrow she was spending the night at home and hadn’t bothered telling her father anything at all as he would be at his club and wouldn’t know the difference anyway. She hadn’t even told Gretchen the real reason she was visiting Windsor Forest again. It wasn’t to search for her mother this time. She needed something that had belonged to Ewan if she was going to bring him out of the Underworld.