Page 48

C ATHERINE TRUDGED THROUGH the back door, reeling with infuriation and insult. In the kitchen she nearly ran into Abigail as she bustled toward the stairs carrying a tray of cucumber sandwiches.

Abigail gasped. “Lady Catherine! Oh, thank heavens. Mary Ann was just called upstairs, and you’d best get up there, too, before the Marchioness works herself into a frenzy.”

“Tea? This early?”

Abigail cocked her head, silently demanding that Catherine go on ahead, and fast.

Remembering her parents’ threat to release Mary Ann, Catherine hung up her shawl and took the stairs two at a time. Normally her father took his tea in the library, but when she stepped onto the landing she heard voices coming from the front parlor, which was only used for entertaining guests.

The thought of entertaining anyone made her bones shudder.

She considered jotting up to her room and pretending she wasn’t home, but before she could make a decision, her mother poked her head out of the room. Her face was contorted into a crazed grin. “Catherine! There you are! I thought I heard you come in, sweetest girl!”

Sweetest girl?

A new dread sank onto Catherine’s shoulders. “I didn’t think we were expecting guests. I’m not properly dressed for— ”

Bustling forward, her mother smoothed back Cath’s hair and picked at her dress collar, then nudged her toward the parlor. “Don’t be silly, dear. We mustn’t keep our guests waiting…”

“But—”

“ Here she is, Your Majesty! ” her mother bellowed, shoving Catherine through the doorway. “I found her loitering in the hallway, bashful thing!”

The King and the Marquess both jumped to their feet.

Again, the King had brought with him the twitching White Rabbit, his guards, and Jest. Again Jest stood by the far window, his black motley and drooping hat silhouetted in the afternoon light.

He stood at respectful attention, his hands linked behind his back, but this time he was pointedly staring at the wall rather than at her.

On the opposite side of the room, Mary Ann stopped pouring tea long enough to shoot Catherine a curious look. Cath couldn’t hold it, too ashamed of her recent failure with Hatta.

The King clapped, a solo applause for Catherine’s opportune entrance. “There she is, there she is!” he said. “And here I am—surprise!”

Cath forced a wobbly smile. “Good day, Your Majesty. To what do we owe this honor?”

“Ah, my beloved,” said the King, beaming around the word and ignorant to Cath’s grimace, “there is to be a spectacle most extraordinary at the Lobe Theater tonight—a special production of King Cheer , performed in my own honor! I was hoping…” He cleared his throat.

“I hoped, with the permission of the Marquess, that you might agree to accompany me, my… my sweet.” His hands knotted themselves together and his coyness would have been endearing if Cath hadn’t been so reviled.

“My, that sounds splendid, Your Majesty,” said the Marchioness. “Doesn’t that sound splendid, Catherine?”

Her gaze darted to Jest, rather against her will, but his expression was as blank as an undisturbed pond .

“I am flattered, Your Majesty, but I would require a chaperone for such an outing and I don’t know that we can spare—”

“Take Mary Ann,” said her mother. Mary Ann froze in the middle of pouring a spoonful of sugar into a cup.

“Mary Ann, stop bothering with all that and go get changed. Snap, snap!” Her mother punctuated the words with snapping fingers and, with hardly a surprised glance at Catherine, Mary Ann had scurried from the room and the Marchioness had taken over the tea.

“You, too, Catherine. Go make yourself presentable. The Lobe Theater is very nice, if I recall, though it’s been years since Mr. Pinkerton took me there, isn’t that right, Mr. Pinkerton? ”

The Marquess grinned at her, all swoony eyes. “Oh yes, my love, I remember it well. You were ravishing that night, and I do believe I spent more time watching you than the show. The Taming of the Stew , wasn’t it?”

The Marchioness tittered.

“But, Mother,” started Catherine, “what about the Jabberwock? Surely it isn’t yet safe to—”

Her mother’s delight turned fast to a frown. “Don’t be daft, child. You’ll be with the King! Surrounded by guards! No harm will come to you.”

“But I’ve only just gotten home and I’m not—”

“Catherine. His Majesty has requested your presence at this most extraordinary spectacle. We will not disappoint him, will we?”

By which, Cath knew, she was asking if Catherine would dare to disappoint her.

She gave the slightest shake of her head.

“As I thought. Now run along and put on something proper.” Her sunshine smile was back as she turned to the King again. “You did say that you take your tea with milk, isn’t that so, Your Majesty?”

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, Catherine turned toward the door. She dared one last look at Jest, but the only change was a tiny crease between his eyebrows. As if he sensed her attention on him, he sighed, slowly, but his focus stayed attached to the far wall.

As she headed up to change, Cath wondered which of them wanted to be there less.

***

T HE CARRIAGE RIDE proved to be even more awkward. With Catherine and Mary Ann taking up two spots in the King’s barouche, the White Rabbit was forced to sit out with the footman and he looked so forlorn about it Cath almost suggested trading places with him.

In the end, she wished that she had, as she was left crammed into a tiny vestibule facing the King and Jest on the other bench.

Luckily, the King seemed oblivious to the discomfort around him. He jovially carried on a solo conversation with prattle about the palace gardens and how he wanted a tree house once some of the trees got big enough to support it.

Jest’s eyes remained locked on the window, even though a curtain was pulled down over the view.

Cath found herself leaning into Mary Ann each time the King said something particularly annoying, and Mary Ann began doing the same, offering what silent empathy she could. Soon their shoulders were pressed so tight together Cath’s fingers had started to tingle.

She was grateful when they arrived at the theater—an architectural marvel with seating that wrapped almost all the way around the stage, mimicking the shape of a human earlobe.

At the King’s arrival, a hand of Diamond courtiers flattened themselves on their bellies, making a carpet that extended to the theater entrance, which was carved to look like two upright rabbit ears. The goggle-eyed footman assisted Cath and Mary Ann from the carriage.

Grabbing a scepter from the driver’s seat, Jest led their group forward, hoisting the scepter high.

Before he had gone into the theater, the great black raven swooped down from the sky and settled on top of the scepter like a perch.

Jest didn’t slow, but Raven did turn his head to glance back at Cath with his black, expressionless eyes.

He dipped his beak toward Jest’s ear and said something Cath couldn’t hear.

Jest shook his head sharply in response.

Catherine realized she was staring at him. She had hardly stopped staring at him since they’d left Rock Turtle Cove.

If Jest had looked at her once, she knew nothing of it.

The King, ever oblivious, offered his elbow and Cath took it, stifling her disappointment. Mary Ann followed behind, apologizing to the courtiers as she stepped across them.

The lobby was crowded with guests waiting to take their seats.

Jest and Raven had already disappeared into the bustle as Catherine and the King entered and were met with bows and curtsies and so many congratulations they might already have been betrothed.

Catherine did her best to look baffled when she received their well-wishes, earning plenty of baffled looks in return, but soon it became clear that she was losing this battle.

After the King’s proclamation at the festival, all of Hearts believed them engaged, and there seemed to be little Catherine could do to dissuade those rumors here, at a theater, on the King’s arm.

Overnight her life had become a whirlpool, sucking her below the surface.

They greeted Margaret Mearle, who looked smug and unimpressed that Catherine was now a favorite of the King, and the Duke, who tried to hide his envy at the King’s romantic success.

Cath realized she’d been so caught up in her own heart’s matters, she’d pitifully failed the Duke. He had asked her to help him win Margaret’s affections, but all she could think to do was to shake them both and order them to get over their pride and awkwardness before it was too late .

A hand suddenly grabbed Cath’s wrist, pulling her free of the King. She spun and was surprised to find herself staring into the gaunt face of Lady Peter, who held her more tightly than Cath would have thought she had strength for.

“Do you have any more?” Lady Peter said before Cath could get off a greeting. She was whispering, but it was almost as loud as a yell in the crowded space.

Cath ducked her head closer, not sure she’d heard right. “Any more?”

Lady Peter nodded, her eyes wide and bloodshot.

She cast her gaze around the lobby before tugging Cath closer.

Their faces were mere inches away from each other now, and Cath could see the yellow tinge of the lady’s teeth, the sharp edges of her cheekbones.

There was a sheen of sweat on her upper lip.

“Tell me,” Lady Peter said, pleading. “Please tell me you have more. I’ll do anything, pay any amount—” Her voice broke. “That is, I haven’t much money, but I can pay you in dirt and favors, or—”

“Lady Peter, please. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her voice dropped again. “ The cake. ”

Catherine gaped. “Pardon?”