His Lordship Possessed (23 page)

Feathersound. Yes, I know you own it. To save my life,

you’ll swallow a spirit stone, Walsh will kill himself, and

your body will be possessed by Zarath. Th e warlord needs

your mind power to remove the fi nal obstacles and set off

the dreamstones.”

He stared at me. “You’ve never in your life believed

in magic.”

“Th at reminds me.” I smiled. “Your current suspicions

about me are correct. I am a spell-breaker, Lucien. Th at’s

why your magic has no eff ect on me.” I didn’t have to

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tell him that his spiritborn gift of enchantment worked

extremely well; that little detail could remain between me

and the future Dredmore.

He came to me and jerked me to my feet. “If what

you say isn’t some bizarre fancy you’ve dreamed up to

confound me, and by some impossibly wild chance you

have returned from the future, then why didn’t you stop

the Reapers while you were there?”

“I did.” I rested my hand against his chest. “Just before

Zarath cast his spell over the city, I drove an iron spike

through his heart and killed him.” I looked up at him and

let him see everything I felt. “Which was, coincidentally,

your heart.”

“You
killed
me.”

I nodded. “Before you surrendered your body to

Zarath, you made me promise that I would. I didn’t enjoy

it as much as I expected. Really a lot of blood.”

His hands fell away. “Now I do believe you.”

“Excellent.” I turned my head. “Bring the carriage

round, Connell.” I saw the surprise on the servant’s face

before I said, “Your master and I are going to call on

Lord and Lady Walsh.”

Dredmore said very little as we rode to the Hill. I pulled

up the shade so I could see the mansions glittering in the

sunlight once again. While I would never care for the

ton’s lofty community, seeing it burnt to the ground had

not been an improvement.

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“Do you mean to expose Walsh in front of his family?”

Dredmore asked.

“Not at all.” As the carriage stopped, I reached up and

felt for my pendant. “We will speak to him privately.”

He frowned. “If he is under Reaper control, he will

deny every charge, and then use his infl uence to destroy

my credibility and your life.”

“Not this time.” I reached out and patted the back of

his hand. When he seized my wrist, I didn’t pull away.

“We’ve arrived. Don’t change your mind now.”

He held on to me. “You haven’t told me everything

about the future, have you?”

“What, and spoil the surprise?” I smiled as Connell

opened the door. “Where would be the fun in that?”

Th e Walshes’ forbidding old butler came directly to

answer the door, doubtless astonished by the prospect of

anyone calling at such an unseemly, early hour.

“Lord Dredmore and Miss Kittredge to see Lord

Walsh,” I told the old winge before he could open his

mouth. “On quite urgent business.”

Th e butler reared back, the skin surrounding his nose

drawing up as he ignored me and addressed Dredmore.

“Th e master is not receiving, milord.”

Dredmore brushed past him. “He will see me now.”

“It’s a terribly private family matter,” I told the

outraged butler as I followed suit. “We’ll wait for him in

his study.”

It took Lord Walsh less than three minutes to stalk

into the room and slam the doors behind him. Th ere was

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egg yolk on his chin and he still wore his morning jacket

and what looked like fur-lined bed slippers. “Lucien.

Good God, man, what is the meaning of this?”

“Your wife came to see me this morning, Lord

Walsh.” I waited for him to lower himself to notice me.

“She believes your deceased fi rst wife has cast a spell on

her. But as it turns out, you’re the one who has been

bespelled.”

Th e fi rst tinge of purple bloomed in his fl orid cheeks.

“How dare you—”

“With very little trepidation, actually.” I closed the

distance between us and lifted my skirts. “But I do

apologize in advance for my actions.”

I kicked him in the groin with as much force as I could

muster, and stepped back as he shrieked and dropped to

the carpet. He didn’t vomit, however, which annoyed me.

“I see you’re going to be diffi cult. Lucien, please hold his head for a moment.”

Dredmore came up from behind and clapped his

hands over Walsh’s ears.

“Th ank you.” I grabbed the man’s chin and inserted

two of my fi ngers into his mouth, pushing them back

as far as I could until he gagged. “Watch your boots.” I

sidestepped the spew of Walsh’s breakfast, waiting until

he coughed out a gleaming red stone. Using a kerchief

to pick it up, I wrapped it carefully before passing it to

Dredmore. “Don’t swallow this.”

“I’ve no desire to.” He pocketed the bundle.

Lord Walsh fi nished vomiting shortly thereafter and,

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once Lucien had helped him to his feet, began to make

his own apologies. “I say. Terribly sorry. Must have eaten

something that was . . .” He trailed off as he looked at

both of us with visible bewilderment. “Do I know you?”

“Dad? What the devil?” A bleary-eyed Montrose burst

into the room, tottering a little as he rushed to his father’s side.“You can come in, too, Miss Walsh,” I told the woman

hovering outside the door. “Th is concerns you as well.”

Th e timid Miranda tiptoed in, her hands worrying at

the edges of her lace fi chu while she surveyed the messy

scene. “It seems my father is ill,” she said, her voice

wavering. “You should perhaps leave so that we might

attend to him.”

“Th ere’s nothing wrong with Lord Walsh anymore,” I

assured her. “I helped him get the spirit stone you shoved

down his throat out of his belly.”

“He will suff er some gaps in his memory,” Dredmore

added, “but they should not be permanent.”

As Miranda shrank back, I eyed the mess on the fl oor.

“You’ll probably want to have the carpet cleaned right

away. When egg yolk dries it’s as hard to comb out as

plaster on cashmere.” Dredmore got to the door before

Miranda and closed it. “Th ank you, Lucien.”

He leaned back against the door. “My pleasure,

Charmian.”

Miranda skittered away from him, going to stand

behind a wing-backed chair. “Monty, call for the

nobbers. Hurry.”

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“Dredmore is a deathmage, Monty. I wouldn’t twitch

an eyelash.” I went to Miranda, and dragged her over to

face the still-wheezing Nolan Walsh. “It’s time to tell

your father exactly what you and your husband have been

up to.”

“My husband is dead,” she protested, at the same

moment Lord Walsh said, “My daughter is a widow.”

“On the contrary, her husband is still alive and hiding

somewhere in the city,” I told him. “He’s probably too

young to be a Lost Timer, but I expect his Talian father

was.”

Miranda gaped at me. “My dear Lestin died in battle.”

“Your husband faked his death to get out of the

militia, come to Toriana, and—with your help—begin

the groundwork for the Reaper invasion.” I nodded at

Nolan Walsh. “While he didn’t have any powers for

Zarath to use, I imagine your father’s wealth, power, and

infl uence proved quite useful, once the Aramanthan took

control of his mind and body.”

Lord Walsh looked horrifi ed. “Miranda, what have

you done?”

A transformation not unlike that of an Aramanthan

possession came over Walsh’s shy daughter. “You think

money can buy anything, Father? We live every day

under Her Majesty’s grinding boot heel. Th e Reapers are

coming to save us. Th ey will muster our forces, crush the

Empire, and end the occupation. Toriana will fi nally be

free.”

“Is that what they told you?” Dredmore sounded

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scathing. “Th e Reapers have no motive to fi ght for our

liberation. Th eir sole interest in Toriana is to occupy it, and use its citizens and resources to ignite another mage

war. Had your plan been successful, Miss Walsh, they

would have burned their way across our country, and

installed their
own
tyrants as our rulers.”

“All Torians would have been bespelled and turned

into mindless, thoughtless slaves,” I put in. “Rather like

you.”

“You know nothing about our plans.” She struggled

viciously against my hold. “You think you can stop them?

It’s too late. Th e ships are almost here.”

“Th ey’re still a fortnight from shore,” I corrected her.

“By the time they arrive I expect the coastal fl eet will be waiting to greet them.” I glanced at Dredmore. “You can

arrange a proper reception, can’t you, milord?”

His upper lip curled. “Indeed.”

Miranda screamed something wholly unladylike as

she hooked her fi ngers into claws and lunged for my eyes.

I put an end to that nonsense by slapping her. “You

might have pulled it off , had you left your stepmother

alone. But you hated her for taking your mother’s place,

and you feared she might discover that Lord Walsh had

been possessed. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had, you

know.” I looked up to see Lady Diana standing in the

doorway. “No one would have believed her.”

“My father should never have married that sniveling

bitch.” Hatred contorted Miranda’s half-red face.

“Always pretending to be so kind and sweet and loving.

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All she was interested in was his fortune.”

“My family was.” Lady Diana joined us. “I married so

I wouldn’t end an old maid.” She looked at her husband.

“Nolan, I expect you have business to attend to in town.

If you would send for our physick before you leave, I

would greatly appreciate it. Montrose, please escort your

sister to her room and sit with her until the whitecart

arrives.”

“You can’t put me in hospital,” Miranda shouted.

“Of course not,” Diana soothed. “Th ere’s a lovely little

place called Havenwood, not far from my father’s country

estate near Settle. Some of the best families in Rumsen

have sent their troubled relations there to recuperate.”

Miranda grabbed her brother’s jacket. “Monty, you

have to help me. Please. Th ey’re going to ruin everything.”

“We’ll talk about it upstairs.” Montrose guided her out

of the room.

Lord Walsh gave Dredmore a desperate look. “My

lord, if you would be so kind as to accompany me, and

provide some explanation to our mutual friends and

associates . . .”

“It would be my pleasure. Lady Walsh.” Lucien

inclined his head that way, and then came to me. “Miss

Kittredge.” He raised my hand to his lips and kissed

it like a perfect gentleman. Th en he nipped one of my

knuckles. “I will be calling on you later.”

“Meet me down at the docks instead,” I murmured

back.

Once the men left the room, Lady Diana rang for the

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housekeeper, who summoned maids to remove the carpet

and apply citrus oil to the fl oor to remove any lingering

stains and odors. Th e butler himself delivered a tea cart

generously piled with a beautiful cream tea.

“With Lord Walsh’s compliments, Miss Kittredge.”

He bowed to me as if I were royalty before he addressed

Diana. “Milady, when the physick arrives, do you wish to

speak with him?”

“Not at all,” Diana said. “Inform Dr. Elgis that he

is to remove Miss Miranda and have her immediately

and securely transported to Havenwood for whatever

treatment she requires. You might mention that Lord

Walsh expects her stay to be of some duration.”

“Yes, milady.” Th e butler bowed his way out of the

study.

“What about the husband in hiding?” I asked.

“Lestin?” Diana picked up the teapot. “Without

Miranda to supply him with his needs, I expect he will

show his face here quite soon. We have footmen to deal

with that. Sugar?”

“No, thank you. Such an unusual name, Lestin.”

I thought for a moment. “An abbreviated form of

Celestino, isn’t it?”

“I believe it is.” She fi lled two cups and handed one to

me. “You might have warned me of your intentions this

morning, Miss Kittredge.”

I took a sip. “It is possible I could have convinced you

that Miranda was responsible for the attacks on your

person,” I agreed. “But the fact that she arranged for her