A Matter of Magic (49 page)

Kim’s face grew hot. “Frogmaker. It’s cant.”

“I rather thought it might be,” Lady Wendall said, nodding. “You must tell me more some evening when we are at home and private.”

Kim had no idea how to respond to such a request, but fortunately, she did not have to. The landau drew up beside Countess Lieven’s barouche, and yet another round of introductions began. Kim suffered an interesting mixture of feelings when she discovered that the third person in the barouche, who had not been visible when she spotted Renée, was Prince Alexei Durmontov.

“I am enchanted to greet you again, Miss Merrill,” he said.

“Thank you,” Kim replied, considerably taken aback.

“I see you are determined to make your ball the highlight of the Season,” the Countess Lieven said to Lady Wendall. “Five hundred cards sent out, from what I hear.”

Lady Wendall smiled. “It is the first party I have given in a considerable time, and since it is in honor of my son’s ward, I wish it to be especially memorable.”

“It is of all things the most likely,” Renée D’Auber said.

“No doubt,” the countess said dryly. “Lady Wendall has always had a reputation for . . . originality, even before the curried snails in aspic. I trust such inventive dishes will not be prominent at
this
party?”

“I try not to repeat myself,” Lady Wendall said with a charming smile. “May we hope to see you and your guest?”

“I believe you may count upon Lord Lieven and myself,” the countess said. “Prince Durmontov will do as he sees fit, though I believe he would enjoy it. Magicians always seem to enjoy talking to one another.”

“Ah! You are a magician, Lady Wendall?” said the prince.

“A mere dabbler,” Lady Wendall answered. “My son is the true practitioner in the family, though I understand that Kim is coming along nicely.”

“Then I look forward to speaking with him of your English enchantments,” the prince said. “I, too . . . what did you say? ‘Dabble.’ I dabble in magic.”

“But you are too modest,” Renée said. “Have you not just told me that your family is of the finest wizards in Russia?”

“Some of my family are, indeed,” Durmontov replied. “But I am not yet among them. One reason I journey here is to enlarge my skills.”

Kim’s stomach clenched.
He can’t be the burglar
, she told herself.
He doesn’t wear a ring, and he was behind me at the opera when Mairelon went after that other cove.
But the wizard and the burglar weren’t necessarily the same person, and if the wizard had to be either self-trained or foreign. . . .

“Then you must come to Kim’s ball,” Lady Wendall said without hesitation. “Some of the greatest wizards from the Royal College of Magic will be there, and I shall be sure to ask my son to introduce you.”

“I am in your debt, Madame,” the prince replied.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Lady Wendall extracted herself and Kim with effortless politeness and gave the coachman orders to return to Grosvenor Square. She was silent and thoughtful through much of the drive home, putting Kim forcibly in mind of Mairelon in one of his brown studies. Had it been Mairelon sitting beside her, she might have attempted a comment or two, in hopes of finding out what he was thinking, but she did not know Lady Wendall well enough to risk interrupting her thoughts, and so she, too, was silent.

The rest of the week went by without incident. No spells tested the house-ward that Mairelon and Lady Wendall had set up, nor were there more burglars. Shoreham sent no news regarding the French wizards, and none of Mairelon’s spells elicited any trace of Ma Yanger. Hunch made several forays into the lower-class portions of London, but the only information he could obtain was that Ma Yanger was missing. The general presumption was that she had left for parts unknown.

Kim dutifully accompanied Lady Wendall on rounds of calls and attended several small dinner parties, about which she had very mixed feelings. Lady Wendall’s friends had, thus far, been very kind, but Kim could not help feeling rather like the central attraction in a bear-garden. She could only be thankful that Lady Wendall had decreed a quiet schedule until after the come-out ball, which she was already looking forward to with considerable apprehension, and she was a bit dismayed that Lady Greythorne’s musicale was considered quiet enough to meet Lady Wendall’s exacting standards. Her attempts to explain her real worries fell on deaf ears, so she fell back on something the toffs in the household would understand.

“What if that wizard tries something while we’re gone?” she asked at dinner the day before the event.

Mrs. Lowe looked alarmed, but Lady Wendall only smiled. “The warding spell can handle anything he is likely to cast, and a great deal that he isn’t,” she told Kim. “Richard and I renewed it just this morning.”

“I meant like that scrying spell at the opera,” Kim said. “Not something here.”

“I thought of that,” Mairelon said with a touch of smugness. “I hope he does; I’ve been working on something that will give him a surprise. And with any luck, it will let us know the identity of our mystery wizard.”

“I would prefer to receive assurances that there will be no disturbance at all,” Mrs. Lowe said. “Here
or
there.”

“What, exactly, are you planning, Richard?” Lady Wendall said. “Lady Greythorne is an understanding hostess, but for a wizard to cast spells in the home of a nonwizard without being requested . . . well, no matter what the provocation, it is not
done
.”

“I won’t be casting anything,” Mairelon assured her. “I’m using the same technique as our burglar—infusing an object with a spell to be invoked later. The only one who will notice will be the other spellcaster.”

“I sincerely hope you are right,” his mother said. “Your reputation cannot stand another scandal. And don’t tell me that your name has been cleared. Another muddle, and no one will believe it.” She paused, considering. “Unless, of course, it’s a more
usual
sort of scandal. I would
rather you didn’t lose your fortune at cards, but if you could contrive to fall in love with someone’s wife, that might answer.”

“Really, Elizabeth!” Mrs. Lowe said in scandalized tones. “It would be much more to the point to advise him to behave with propriety.”

“There is no point to giving him that sort of advice,” Lady Wendall said. “Richard would never follow it. But an
affaire
is another matter, and might answer very well to reestablish him in Society, as long as he doesn’t take things too far.”

“I assume you would consider dueling over the hypothetical lady to be ‘too far,’ ” Mairelon said, amused.

“Much too far,” Lady Wendall replied seriously. “That is precisely the sort of extreme you need to avoid.”

“I think I can promise you that.”

“It is not a joking matter, Richard! You could find yourself a social outcast permanently, not to mention ruining Kim’s prospects and damaging the rest of the family.” Lady Wendall paused, then laid a hand on Mairelon’s arm. “I am only asking you to take care, my dear. You can’t deny that sometimes you forget to do so, especially when you are absorbed in one of your projects.”

“I most certainly can deny it,” Mairelon said. “Of course, if I did, I’d be lying. Very well, Mother, I’ll keep your recommendations in mind.”

But Kim noticed that Mairelon had not agreed to actually abide by any of them. She was almost relieved. The thought of Mairelon setting up a flirtation was . . . awkward. Uncomfortable. Unpleasant. She picked up her fork, and applied herself to food that had gone suddenly tasteless.

Lady Greythorne’s townhouse was a palatial residence filled with footmen, silver, marble tables, and delicate, uncomfortable chairs. A cracksman could have made his fortune in ten minutes in the Green Saloon—except that, Kim judged, this was one of those houses where the guests did not depart until three or four in the morning, at which point the kitchen staff and housemaids would already be stirring in preparation for the following day. The rooms were even more crowded than
Kim had anticipated, and much to her dismay, Letitia Tarnower was the first person to greet them as they entered the drawing room after paying their respects to their hostess.

“Mr. Merrill!” the Beauty said to Mairelon. “I am so very pleased to see you again. And you also, Mrs. Lowe.”

Mrs. Lowe nodded stiffly, then immediately excused herself to go and speak with someone who had just entered on the far side of the room. Miss Tarnower looked up at Mairelon expectantly.

“Miss Tarnower,” Mairelon said gravely, and then, with an exquisite correctness that made Kim instantly suspicious of his motives, presented her to his mother.

“I am so very pleased to meet you, Lady Wendall,” Miss Tarnower said, curtseying. She gave Kim a small nod; evidently she was not going to ignore Kim completely until she was sure of her status.

Lady Wendall murmured something politely noncommittal.

“I am so happy to be here tonight,” Miss Tarnower went on in a confidential tone. “I was quite honored to receive a card, for you know that Lady Greythorne is so very
choosy
in her guests.”

“I was certainly used to think so,” Lady Wendall said blandly.

Annoyance flashed in Miss Tarnower’s eyes; she gave Mairelon the briefest of calculating glances and then said sweetly, “Oh, but everyone knows that Lady Greythorne’s parties are very nearly as exclusive as Almack’s! Surely you are funning me!”

“Not exactly,” Mairelon said. “It will do for an interpretation, however.”

Miss Tarnower smiled and widened her eyes at him. “I am excessively bad at interpretations,” she said. “Particularly of music, though I do love it so. And I particularly wish to understand the pieces tonight. Perhaps you would be good enough to explain them to me, Mr. Merrill?”

“Do forgive us, Miss Tarnower,” Lady Wendall broke in firmly, “but we really must pay our respects to Lady Castlereagh. It won’t do, you know, to interrupt her once the music has begun.”

“Then I hope I will have a chance to talk with you later, Mr. Merrill,” Miss Tarnower said, yielding gracefully. As she moved off, several young men closed in around her. Prominent among them was Lord Gideon
Starnes, and Kim wondered briefly whether he had ever persuaded anyone to carry his message to Letitia for him.

“That was rather unnecessary, Mother,” Mairelon said as they made their way through the crowd toward Lady Castlereagh. “Now it will take twice as long to find out what it was she really wanted.”

Lady Wendall gave him a pitying look. “What she wants is obvious, dear.”

“Mmm? Possibly, but nobody is that obvious by accident. Or that hen-witted.”

“I didn’t say it was accidental.” Lady Wendall pursed her lips. “I think it is a good thing that Andrew is in Suffolk this Season. I must write and tell Lord Wendall to be sure and keep him there on some pretext, should they finish their business with the canals a bit early.”

Kim felt suddenly queasy. Despite Mrs. Lowe’s preoccupation with matchmaking, it hadn’t occurred to her that Mairelon was an extremely eligible bachelor.
He’s a wizard, he’s well-born, he’s got forty thousand in the Funds, and he’s under thirty
. She stole a glance at him.
And he’s not bad-looking, either
. That wouldn’t weigh with the Mamas of the innocent hopefuls who flocked to London during the Season in hopes of catching a husband, but it would certainly weigh with the hopefuls themselves.
He’s a younger son, and he hasn’t got a title
, she reassured herself, but that wasn’t much help. Forty thousand pounds was more than enough to offset such trifling disadvantages.

At least he wasn’t taken in by that Tarnower chit
. Somehow, the thought was not entirely reassuring.

They paid their respects to Lady Castlereagh and wandered through the rooms, conversing with the other guests and admiring the furnishings and the figures painted on the pediments above the doors. Several rooms were designed with recessed alcoves in the corners, most of which were lined with narrow tables on which the hostess had chosen to display a variety of enormous, ornate silver urns, marble statuettes, and other valuable items. Kim was particularly taken with a pair of candle sticks that looked to be solid gold—they were small enough to be easily portable, and they’d fetch at least fifty pounds apiece at Gentleman Jerry’s.

As they proceeded, Kim made a point of observing the gentlemen’s hands. Though she saw a great many rings of varying value, none was the ruby-centered flower she was looking for. Twice, she saw Renée D’Auber passing into another room. Prince Durmontov was also present; when Kim spotted him, he was listening with apparent attention to Letitia Tarnower while Lord Starnes stood by in barely concealed irritation. Kim found herself hoping that the Beauty was hanging out for a title after all.

“Kim,” Lady Wendall said, calling her back from her reverie. “Allow me to present Lord Franton, Marquis of Harsfeld, who particularly desires to meet you.”

Kim turned. A slim young man with dark hair bowed immediately; as he straightened, she recognized him as the gentleman she had seen observing her at the opera, before the scrying spell and Prince Durmontov’s appearance had driven everything else from her mind. “I am pleased to meet you, Lord Franton,” she said.