Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 02 Read online

  "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 Renee 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.

  Lord Franton smiled. He had a very nice smile, and his expression was openly admiring. He looked to be no more than twenty-two or twenty-three, but he had an air of self-confidence that made him seem older. "Not nearly so pleased as I am to meet you at last, Miss Merrill," he said to Kim. "I have been trying to arrange an introduction for a week, but you have been remarkably elusive."

  "I have?"

  "So it seems to me. Now that I have managed it at last, will you allow me to procure you a seat for the music? I believe they are about to begin."

  Feeling a little dazed, Kim looked at Lady Wendall, who nodded encouragingly. Like a puppet, Kim's head bobbed as well, and a moment later she found herself being escorted to the music room by the marquis. His arm was firm under her gloved hand. Her breath had gone odd, and she was abruptly conscious of the depth of her gown's neckline. Nobody ever really looked at me like I was a girl before, she thought suddenly. No man, anyway. She stole a glance upward and encountered another warm smile that almost made her stumble. She felt tingly all over, rather as if someone were doing magic nearby, only different. I could get to like this.

  "I hear that you are studying wizardry, Miss Merrill," Lord Franton said. "I have very little skill myself, but I admire those who do. How did you come to it?"

  "Mairelon--that is, my guardian decided to teach me," Kim said. "It's a long story."

  "I would be happy to call on you next week to hear it at more leisure," Lord Franton said.

  "Sure," Kim replied. "I mean, that will be fine, Lord Franton."

  They found seats in the fourth row of hard, straight-backed chairs and sat down to wait for the harpsichordist to begin playing. "Are you enjoying your first Season, Miss Merrill?" Lord Franton asked.

  "I'm still getting accustomed to it," Kim answered cautiously. She risked another glance upward, and found him watching her face with a keen admiration that renewed her tingling. Hastily, she averted her eyes.

  "You find it still so new, even after a year? I understood that you have been Merrill's ward at least that long."

  "Yes, but we were in Kent for most of it, and Mairelon--I mean, my guardian isn't much for house parties."

  "Why do you call him Mairelon?"

  "It's the name he was using when we met." She hesitated, but the circumstances were no secret, and neither Mrs. Lowe nor Lady Wendall had forbidden her to discuss them. "He was working Hungerford Market as a stage magician, and I broke into his wagon. And got caught." She grimaced in remembered disgust. "The toff who hired me forgot to mention that Mairelon was a real frogmaker, and not just a puff-guts making sparkles for the culls."

  Lord Franton looked at her, plainly intrigued. "And that was when he made you his ward?"

  "No, that came later. I told you, it's a long story."

  "I am even more eager to hear it than I was before," Lord Franton said. "And I must remember to compliment Mr. Merrill on his perception. You clearly were meant to grace the drawing rooms and country houses of the ton."

  No, I wasn't, Kim thought as the first harpsichordist appeared at last and the conversation ceased in a round of polite applause. Though the marquis plainly meant what he said, and though she could not help being flattered by it, she could not pretend, even to herself, that she felt truly comfortable among so many toffs.

  Lord Franton, however, was a different matter. Comfortable was not, perhaps, quite the right word for the way he made her feel; nonetheless, she found that by the first break she had promised to go driving in the park with him later the following week, and to grant him two dances at her come-out ball. She was profoundly relieved when he offered to bring her some punch and took himself off for a few moments. Finding a quiet spot beside a large marble bust, she waited, scanning the milling toffs for familiar faces.

  A corpulent gentleman entered the room, saying something about the music to a tall woman in a feathered turban. As he went by, waving his arms with considerable animation, Kim stiffened. He's wearing that burglar's ring! But he can't have been the cove in the library; I'd have noticed for sure if he'd been that fat.

  "Your punch, Miss Merrill," Lord Franton said.

  Kim turned. "Find Mairelon right away," she said. "Mr. Merrill, that is. Tell him to come here; it's important."

  "I beg your pardon?" Lord Franton said, blinking.

  "Never mind," Kim said. "There he is. Excuse me, I got to talk with him right away."

  Abandoning the puzzled marquis and his cup of punch, she threaded her way through the crowd to Mairelon's side. "Mairelon, the cove with the ring is here," she said. "Only it's not the right cove."

  Mairelon turned, frowning slightly. He blinked at Kim, and then his expression cleared. "Who is it, then?"

  "The jack weight talking to the mort with the green feathers in her hat," Kim said. "I'll go bail he wasn't the cracksman, but he's got the ring. Or one near enough like it to be its twin."

  "Ah, Lord Moule. Let's find out how he came by it, shall we?"

  Mairelon offered her his arm, and they crossed the room together. Though Mairelon nodded to several of the people they passed, he did not pause to converse, and Kim could tell that his attention was focused sharply on the fat man with the ring. Despite her own curiosity, Kim could not help comparing Mairelon's attitude to Lord Franton's, and she found herself wishing that Mairelon were not quite so single-minded.

  They reached the discussion which, judging from the degree of Lord Moule's animation, was reaching its climax. As Lord Moule paused to draw breath, Mairelon said, "Excellent point, Moule. I was just saying something similar to my ward, wasn't I, Kim? Do allow me to present you."

  The ensuing round of introductions completely derailed the conversation and allowed the lady in the green feathered turban to escape. As soon as she had, Mairelon said, "Interesting ring you're wearing, Moule."

  "This?" Lord Moule studied the gold ring that was squashed onto his littlest finger. "Yes, I thought so. Won it at play last week."

  "Naturally," Mairelon said. "From whom?"

  "Some young chub or other," Lord Moule replied. "You know how it is--White's, three in the morning, claret been flowing for hours, things get a little fuzzy. But it's a nice piece, and I'm glad to have it."

  "I should think so. It's not everyone who's that lucky at play. Though I understand there's rather a good game going in the card room."

  "Is there?" Lord Moule brightened. "Excuse me, Merrill. Your servant, Miss Merrill." And he departed in a hurry that was barely seemly.

  "And that disposes of the one fact we thought we had," Mairelon said, looking after him. "I wonder whether it was cleverness or mere bad luck that led our burglar to stake it?"

  "Don't they keep records or something at those clubs?" Kim said.

  "The betting-books? Those are for long-term wagers, not for what's won or lost at table of an evening." Mairelon sighed. "It's a pity. Ah, there's Renee and that Russian in the back corner. Let's see what they're up to."

  They made their way around the room to the alcove where the other two stood. Prince Durmontov did not look best pleased to have Mairelon and Kim join his nearly private conversation with Mademoiselle D'Auber, but he greeted them politely nonetheless. Renee gave Mairelon an amused look and said to Kim, "How is it that you are enjoying yourself?"

  "It's a little confusing," Kim said.

  "It will become less so," Renee told her.

  "My mother tells me you're a wizard, Prince," Mairelon said to Durmontov.

  "Of no great measure, I fear," Durmontov said. "I hope while I am here to study you
r English methods."

  "You seem more intrigued by French ones," Mairelon murmured in a provocatively innocent tone.

  "I have some familiarity with French magic already," replied Durmontov. "One of my aunts--"

  A prickle of magic ran across Kim's skin, and she stiffened. So did the other three wizards. Mairelon's eyes lit. "Now, then!" he said, and reached into his pocket. Kim heard a sharp crack, like a twig breaking. An instant later, power ripped across her in a sudden wave.

  I thought he said you couldn't tell when someone invoked a spell instead of casting it, she thought fuzzily, clutching at Mairelon's arm, and then the sensation was gone completely.

  "Monsieur Merrill!" Renee said, her voice full of concern.

  Kim looked up. Mairelon's eyes had gone blank, and his face was gray-white. He swayed on his feet, and she clutched at his arm again, this time to support him. "Mairelon!" she said, her voice wobbling in sudden terror. "Mairelon?"

  14

  Mairelon blinked and a little color returned to his face. "That was . . . unexpected," he said in a shaken voice.

  A little reassured, Kim shook the arm she held. "What happened?"

  "I, too, am full of the curiosity," Renee said. "And so will be a great many other persons, and very soon, I think."

  "It appears not," Prince Durmontov said. "Your English seem entirely uninterested."

  Kim glanced over her shoulder. Lord Starnes stood against the far wall, arms crossed, glowering at the ring of gentlemen hovering around Letitia Tarnower; Lord Franton was deep in conversation with an elderly gentleman; knots of ladies talked placidly with each other or with gentlemen, or moved with studied grace from one room to another. No one gave any indication of knowing that something out of the ordinary had occurred.

  "Good," Mairelon said. "Though that, at least, isn't a surprise."

  "No?" Renee studied Mairelon for a moment. Her concerned expression lessened, to be replaced by one of annoyance. "My friend, if you are not at once more clear, I shall become what it is that Mademoiselle Kim says wizards are, and turn you into a frog. Why is it not surprising that no one has noticed this spell?"