“I have no idea. That’s my point.” Evangeline met and held the girl’s nervous gaze. “More importantly, I hope to keep my…talent in the strictest confidence. I’ve no wish to be thrown to the streets, or into Bedlam, and I do not hold the openness of theton’s collective minds in particularly high esteem.”
“My master doesn’t hold toffs in any esteem,” Molly scoffed. “He says they’re all self-important rotters with lukewarm lemonade for brains.”
“Yes. Well. I’d tend to agree.” As Evangeline hugged herself, the lace of her mitts scratched against her dry skin. “Wait…Mr. Lioncroft doesn’t—you haven’t told him about my visions, have you?”
The girl’s chin jerked up. “For all his troubles, he’s a good master. If he asks if you’re a witch, any one of us would tell him the truth.”
Normally, such staunch loyalty would bring a smile to Evangeline’s face. In this case, however, her words sent ice along Evangeline’s spine.
“But if he doesn’t ask?” she insisted.
After a long moment, Molly shrugged. “He’s not one for idle chatter. There’s many haven’t once heard him speak. I doubt he’ll mention you at all.”
Evangeline supposed the unlikelihood of her name crossing Mr. Lioncroft’s lips should make her feel better, but instead—Evangeline straightened her shoulders. Best to not analyze her illogical emotions. She’d be long gone before he caught wind of any witchery afoot.
After doing her best to twist Evangeline’s unruly curls—which had never suffered pins for more than a few minutes before, and showed no signs of doing otherwise today—into some sort of looping plait, Molly gave up, curtsied, and left.
Within a moment, a brisk knock rattled the connecting door to Susan’s chamber. Evangeline twisted the handle and welcomed in her neighbor.
Susan’s gown, a powder-blue confection with indigo accents, elegantly complemented her cerulean eyes and pale skin. Unlike Evangeline, Susan wore both a portrait-perfect chignon and a delighted smile.
“I’m surprised you answered so quickly,” she said, sweeping past Evangeline to warm her hands by the fire. “I half-suspected you to be a slugabed.”
“I’m surprised you knocked,” Evangeline muttered as she closed the connecting door. “I didn’t think you knew how.”
“Oh, don’t be shrewish. It’s much too fine a day.”
“How do you know? There are no windows.”
“Not outside, goose. Inside. I haven’t had such excitement in ages.” Susan threw open the hallway door and grinned. “Are you coming or not?”
Seeing no recourse, Evangeline joined her in the corridor and led the way to the breakfast table. As it happened, Lady Stanton had not yet arrived. Neither had Lady Heatherbrook or her daughter Nancy.
Mr. Lioncroft sat at the head of the table, brooding over a plateful of untouched eggs. Francine Rutherford was to his left, toying with a slice of toasted bread. Her husband Benedict sat on her left, showing no trouble consuming his kippers. His cousin Edmund was next, with a full glass of wine and only a few crumbs remaining on his plate.
Nobody occupied the two seats to Lioncroft’s immediate right.
Mr. Teasdale occupied the chair following the gap, his cane dangling between the curved wooden slats.
Although they’d surely heard Susan and Evangeline approach, not a single guest so much as glanced up at two young ladies hesitating in the doorway.
“Well, we’re here,” Susan whispered behind a gloved hand. “You want Teasdale or Lioncroft?”
Evangeline wanted to go back to bed. Sleep, however, did not await her there. “I don’t care,” she murmured. “I’m not even hungry.”
Susan fished one hand in her pocket. “Heads or tails?”
“Just go in and sit down.” Evangeline nudged her forward. “We can’t stand here whispering.”
“Fine.” Susan removed her empty hand from her pocket and began to tug off her gloves. “You get Lioncroft, then.”
Evangeline took a step into the room, and then paused. “He’s your future fiancé. Don’t you want to sit by him?”
Susan clutched the doorframe. “I will when we’re married and not a moment sooner.”
“If he frightens you so,” Evangeline hissed behind her cupped palm, “why marry him?”
“Lesser evil. He’s a good catch now that I’m ruined, remember?” Susan’s brow furrowed. “Well, he was before he started murdering people again. He might hang for it this time. And I can’t marry a dead man. If I’m lucky, Mother will have given up on the whole idea.”
