Bewitching Season (22 page)

on designing special tables for the pupils.” He pulled a letter from his coat pocket and unfolded it.

“He’s asked me to look for some beginning maths primers that wouldn’t be too intimidating for

younger students, too.”

“Got it!” Charles shoved the copybook at Lochinvar. “How’s that?”

Lochinvar glanced at the page. “Well done, Master Chucklehead. One more and you’ll have earned

your visit with Lord Chesterfield.” He grinned at Charles, then turned to Persy. His grin faded. “I’m

sorry to hear that you don’t care for maths. I’d hoped … you seem to understand what would be

suitable. Maybe you’d … if I could impose on you to look over some books with me?”

Pen laughed. “Persy not like maths? What has she been telling you? She’s brilliant at it. Why, just

the other day she said she wished she could have been a teacher.”

Persy restrained an urge to shove a teacup into Pen’s mouth. She glanced uncomfortably at

Lochinvar and saw that he was regarding her with a perplexed frown. “Why, Pen, I said no such

thing.”

“But you did—”

A slight cough interrupted her. Kenney had appeared in the doorway again and was trying to catch

Mama’s eye. “Lord Carharrick is downstairs, my lady. He wishes to inquire about Miss Persephone.”

“Well, goodness, Kenney. Do send him up. And bring some more tea and tarts, please.” Mama

looked pleased and smiled a small, private smile at Persy.

Before Persy could panic, Lord Carharrick was there. He wore one of the newly fashionable

tailless box coats, fawn-colored, with striped trousers. He bowed to the room in general, then came

to Persy and held out a large bunch of sweet violets. “I’m so glad to see you up and around, Miss

Leland. Then I take it you suffered no lasting harm from my clumsiness?”

Yes! Here was a golden opportunity to change the topic of conversation and put Lochinvar off. She

took the flowers he held out to her and sniffed them rapturously. “Oh, how lovely, Lord Carharrick.

My favorite! How did you know? Yes, I’m feeling much better today, thanks to your prompt attention

last night.”

Pen made a noise that could only be described as a snort. But Lord Carharrick looked delighted.

He took the chair nearest where she sat with Lochinvar and Charles and looked at her. His waistcoat

was violet, too, just like the flowers—and just like the ribbons on her dress last night, which was

somehow annoying. She tried not to think about it and gave him a radiant smile.

“Got that one too,” said Charles, and flourished his book at Lochinvar before turning to the

newcomer. “Did you ride here?” he asked, looking him over.

“No, I took my carriage,” Lord Carharrick answered, looking puzzled. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Charles turned to Lochinvar. “Well, can we go see Lord Chesterfield
now
?”

“I think now would be an excellent time,” Lochinvar replied, unsmiling. “Might I take Charles

down to see Lord Chesterfield, Lady Parthenope?”

“Yes, of course, as long as he doesn’t cony-catch you into letting him ride him.” Mama looked hard

at Charles, who turned dull red and slouched to the door.

Lochinvar followed him, only pausing to bow and say in an unnecessarily loud voice, “Thank you

for the refreshments, ma’am. Good-bye, Pen. Persy.” He nodded shortly to Lord Carharrick, and

disappeared after Charles.

Mama turned to Lord Carharrick. “Viscount Seton is a neighbor and the son of a dear friend. He

and my daughters more or less grew up together.”

She was trying to explain Lochinvar’s familiar use of their names, Persy realized. Well, it
had

been rather noticeable.

“I see,” Lord Carharrick said politely. Then he turned to Persy. “Since your foot feels better, I trust

that I will have the honor of dancing with you tomorrow at Lady Brampton’s ball?”

“Lord Chesterfield’s incredible, Perse. He’s—he’s the most wonderful thing in the world!” Charles

declaimed from the hearthrug, hugging his knees in ecstasy. He had been able to talk of little else

since Lochinvar left that afternoon.

“Restrain yourself, Chuckles. His name is Lord Chesterfield, not Lord God Almighty, and he’s just

a horse,” Persy replied as she peered into her hand mirror. They were due for a dinner party at Lady

Dowlett’s that evening, and were waiting for Andrews to finish Mama’s hair before she did theirs.

Pen was still brushing out hers at their dressing table.

“And speaking of horses.” Pen put down her brush and stared at Persy through the mirror. “What

manure were you slinging about this afternoon, Persephone Leland?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Persy pretended to be absorbed in her reflection.

“And Lochinvar promised that when my arm had healed and we were all back home again, he’d let

me ride him in the paddock.” Charles flapped his bandaged arm like a crazed chicken.

“Since when do you hate maths? And since when do you make eyes at people like Lord

Carharrick? You looked like a heifer with indigestion whenever he looked at you today.”

“Lochinvar said he looked like a wilted violet with that purple waistcoat,” Charles added with

relish.

“Charles!” Persy said severely.

He looked at her and shrugged. “Well, he did.”

“Persy, there’s something going on here.” Pen sounded alarmingly like Ally for a moment.

“You’re right, there is. Since when do you call Lord Seton by his first name, Chucklehead?” Persy

asked.

“He told me to call him Lochinvar! He did!” Charles protested. “He said we’d known each other

too long to be formal. Sometimes I just call him Seton, and that’s all right too.”

“You two have become best chums, haven’t you?” commented Pen.

Persy relaxed. Good. Her distraction ploy had worked.

“Well, why not? We men have to stick together, if anything’s going to get done.” Charles sniffed.

“By the way, he wanted to know if we’d heard anything about Ally and when we were going back to

the Allardyces’ shop.”

Persy busied herself with her mirror again, but the reflection that looked at her was troubled. She’d

been so tangled up in her own troubles the last few days that she had given only passing thought to

Ally—mostly wishing that she were there to help her sort out her chaotic emotions. If Ally were here,

she’d surely be able to tell her what to do.

Or would she? What would Ally say if she told her about the love spell? The thought made Persy

wince, but she’d been presented to Her Majesty and was now, in the eyes of the world, an adult. Ally

could no longer make her decisions for her. And just because she’d made a bad one in casting that

spell on Lochinvar didn’t mean she couldn’t try to do better.

“You’re right, Chuck. We do owe it to the Allardyces to let them know what we’ve been doing

about looking for Ally,” she said aloud.

“Which is precious little.” Pen looked uncomfortable. “We’ll ask Mama if we can go see them

again.”

Another invitation to tea with Princess Sophia at Kensington Palace briefly helped raise Persy’s

spirits. This time she paid more attention to the old palace’s layout, though what good this would do

them, she didn’t know. There was no way she’d ever be able to wander about it looking for Ally. But

it made her feel as if she were trying to help, at least.

Princess Sophia was more than cordial, kissing each of them on their arrival. “How kind of you

young ones to come back and visit a quiet old lady like me!” she exclaimed, and sat them on either

side of her on the sofa. Her old-fashioned chemise dress and tiny neck ruff made her look like a

dressmaker’s doll, lost and forgotten for years in a bureau drawer among faded sachets and old lace.

“I had invited the duchess to bring dear Victoria to meet you today, but alas, she was already

engaged. It is a most busy time of year, as I’m sure you know,” she continued.

Pen looked disappointed but said, “We enjoy visiting you, ma’am. You are most kind to honor us

with the invitation.”

“And you are most kind to come!” Sophia clapped her hands like a delighted child, and Persy

remembered Mama’s assessment of her that night at dinner with Grandmama Leland. The elderly

princess was like a bored, lonely child, grateful even for the diversion of having a pair of

unsophisticated girls to tea. It was a wonder that she hadn’t turned into a gossiping intriguer out of

sheer ennui, but remained simple and kind. Persy’s heart warmed to her.

The princess poured them both chocolate and nodded to her lady-in-waiting to pass the plate of

biscuits. “Now, you must tell me about your balls. Have you made any conquests yet? Any devoted

beaus?”

“Persy has,” Pen said.

Persy’s jaw dropped.

“I knew it! And who is the young man? Is he handsome and wealthy? Or is he a too-charming

younger son?” Princess Sophia looked even more delighted.

“It’s Lord Carharrick, the Earl of Camborne’s heir. He’s been most attentive to my sister at every

ball we’ve been to, always doing his best to get the supper dance, and the last waltz when he can.

Isn’t he smitten?” She leaned past the princess and stared hard at Persy.

Well, what should she expect Pen to think? But did she have to start talking about it in front of

Princess Sophia?

“Ooh, she’s blushing! You must tell us all,” Princess Sophia urged.

Pen suddenly seemed to change her mind about needling Persy. “Speaking of blushing, you must

hear what happened to a Miss Mullet at Lady de Courcy’s ball. It was shocking!” she said in a

dramatically conspiratorial tone that distracted Princess Sophia immediately. Persy was left to

swallow her pique in silence.

On the carriage ride home, she turned to Pen. “What was that about?”

“What was what?” Pen asked, looking out the window and away from her.

“Telling the princess that Lord Carharrick is my beau.” Persy did her best to keep her tone even.

“Well, isn’t he?” Now Pen turned back to her. There was a speculative light in her eye that Persy

had never seen before. “He certainly seems to be with you a great deal.”

“He is not! Well, not that much.”

“No?” Pen looked like a stranger all of a sudden.

“Well, what’s wrong with it if he is?”

“What’s wrong is that you make an absolute noodle of yourself whenever he’s around, but you

never even mention him at any other time. There’s something funny going on here and you’re not

telling me about it.” Pen still stared at her.

“I am not!”

“Girls, please!” Andrews put down her book and looked at them severely. They had almost

forgotten that she was there, waiting for them during their visit to the palace. “I’ve never heard you

quarrel like this before. Now that you are grown, is it time to start?”

“Sorry,” Pen muttered. She gazed out the window at the passing street the entire trip home, while

Persy sat feeling more wretched and alone than she ever had in her life. Ally had vanished, and she’d

been able to do nothing to help her. She would never have Lochinvar, but did she have to lose her

sister too?

12

M
ama was quite happy to bring them and Lochinvar for another visit to the Allardyces’. Now that

they’d shown themselves to be popular at parties and balls, most of her anxiety had melted away. She

was relaxed and genial, especially to the mothers of girls who were not asked to dance as frequently

as her daughters were.

Once again she dropped them at the bookshop door, promising to return for them after she called at

Madame Gendreau’s and Madame LeBlanc’s. Lorrie Allardyce was in the window dusting and

surveying the passersby when they drove up. She peered out at them, waved cheerfully, and vanished.

An instant later Mr. Allardyce was opening the door for them.

“Lady Atherston, Miss Persy, Miss Pen, we are honored,” he began, with a courtly bow for

Mama’s benefit. But Persy caught the anxious inquiry in his eye when he straightened. She shook her

head slightly, and his shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Will you do us the compliment of taking

a glass of Mrs. Allardyce’s cordial?” he continued, still gracious.

“I should be delighted to when I come back for the children. Charles, I shall expect a good report

of your behavior from your sisters and Lord Seton when I return.” Mama fixed him with her eye as

she turned back to the carriage door, held open by a grinning footman.

Charles smiled angelically. “Of course, Mother dear.”

Mama snorted and left.

Persy’s attention was caught by another figure, tall and slightly stooped and dressed in a canvas

coat like Mr. Allardyce’s. By the similarity of his features to Ally’s, she guessed that this must be her

brother, Merlin.

Mrs. Allardyce hurried forward to introduce him. As she came to Lochinvar she said, “And your

book on foreign schools, Lord Seton? Was it what you had wanted? Merlin, won’t you show Lord