But it wasn’t as easy to make progress on that matter as I had hoped.
Young Luton was apparently as contemptuous of festive conviviality as he was of the Great Library itself. He was nowhere to be found in any of the public rooms in Cosgrave Manor when we returned. Nor did he join the rest of the company for luncheon, afternoon tea or supper.
By the time the ladies withdrew from the supper table that evening, I was seething.
“Is young Mr. Luton ill?” I demanded before the drawing room door had even closed behind us. Amy had already moved toward the tea urn, where many of the younger women were gathering, but I was far too irate to care for hot drinks now. “Has anyone heard of something amiss with his health, to keep him hiding in his room all day?”
“What, him?” Old Mrs. Seabury let out a bark of laughter as she settled herself on the wing chair closest to the crackling fire. “Healthy as a horse, that boy! The stubbornest, most boneheaded ones always are, hadn’t you noticed?”
A round of coughing broke out around the circle as the rest of the assembled ladies alternately averted their eyes or slid pointed looks at that oldest and crotchetiest member of the Boudiccate...who had, indeed, existed in perfect health for as long as I had known her.
Clearing her throat and looking purposefully away from Mrs. Seabury, Lady Cosgrave said, “Delilah? Have you heard of anything amiss with your nephew?”
“What?” A vaguely familiar-looking middle-aged lady in the far corner gave a start, her teacup jostling in her hand and hot tea spilling across her lap. As she swiped frantically at the spill, I finally placed her as one of Lady Cosgrave’s many cousins; no great political figure, but close enough in blood to be included in any social occasions like this one. She winced now as she looked up from her tea-stained lap and found a dozen pairs of eyes watching her. “Oh, no, has Gregory offended someone else now? Do forgive me! His mother swore he’d finally learned to hold his tongue in company, but—”
“Shh.” Lady Cosgrave put out one placating hand. “We all know you aren’t to blame for his behavior, Delilah. It was kind of you to bring him with you this time to give his poor mother some respite from his moods.”
“It was meant to be practice comporting himself in high company,” Delilah said dolefully. “My sister has great plans for him, you know, if only he could ever learn to smile and be quiet when people say things that he disagrees with. He is a genius, I’m told, if only we could convince anyone to hire him! But that Sansom fellow would keep talking of his own magical theories last night, and—”
“One can hardly blame your nephew for losing patience,” I said sincerely. “But do you happen to know where he is now? I haven’t seen him all day.”
“Why, Cassandra.” Lady Cosgrave raised her eyebrows knowingly at me. “I would have thought you would have far more important things to worry about today of all days. Hasn’t your new fiancé—or should I say, your renewed fiancé—been providing enough entertainment for you?” She smiled fondly as a ripple of interest ran around the circle, and the gathered ladies drew closer with a visible eagerness that grated against my taut nerves. “We’re all so pleased that the two of you finally sorted things out after all. I always knew you would, once you overcame your little difficulties.”
“Now things can finally be just as they should have been all along!” said the lady next to her. “He’ll take care of all the magic in the family, and you can finally take your own place in politics, just as your mother always wanted. It’s almost too perfect to be believed, isn’t it?”
It was certainly something. But before I could even begin to express my full and sincere reaction to her statement, Amy hurried up behind me. Clearly, she’d sensed danger just in time.
“Are you speaking of Mr. Wrexham?” she asked brightly. “Do you know, he told me that Cassandra’s articles on magic have influenced magicians five times her age! They are so well-matched. But I think I heard someone talking about Mr. Luton beforehand. He is a weather wizard, is he not?”
“Yes,” I said tightly. “But he hasn’t emerged from his room all day, as far as I can tell.”
“Well, he’s probably working. You’ve had a few days like that too, as I recall, when you were seized by some grand new experiment you couldn’t wait to attempt.” Amy squeezed my arm gently. “At any rate, it can’t take forever, can it? I’m sure you’ll have a chance to meet with him soon, once his current project is finished. And in the meantime...”
She turned to the others with a question about the upcoming solstice celebration, and I gave up and retired to the tea urn, where the younger women clustered in a gossiping group. Miss Banks greeted me with a shy smile and Miss Fennell with a firm nod, and I nodded back to both of them, finding renewed purpose in the sight of their hands brushing slightly, discreetly, against each other as they stepped aside to make way for me.
I wasn’t, after all, the only one whose future was at stake.
I might have failed in my mission tonight, but I wouldn’t let myself fail again, for any of our sakes. As I poured the hot, steaming tea into a delicate porcelain cup, I made a vow to myself: if young Luton didn’t emerge from his room soon, I would throw propriety to the winds and go and fetch him myself.
He might have been too much for our teachers at the Great Library to manage, but after four months of broken dreams, I’d finally discovered a sense of hope again. There was no magician in the land—no matter how powerful, arrogant or obstreperous—who could be allowed to take that from me.
12
The only problem with being officially affianced again was that it was nigh-on impossible to behave like an idiot without being noticed at it.
“There you are,” Wrexham said behind me the next morning, and I came to a sudden, horrified halt just before I could place my ear against yet another closed door in the third-storey guest wing. “Have you decided to turn yourself into a ghost for Lord Cosgrave to brag about to his visitors?” he inquired. “Pacing the halls, moaning at all hours...”
“I was not moaning,” I said tartly. Pacing, on the other hand...I suppressed a wince as I took a quick step away from the closest door and turned to face my fiancé. “I was trying to ascertain which room was young Luton’s, if you must know.”