A School for Unusual Girls (19 page)

“This isn't
my
finery,” I explained matter-of-factly. “This dress, the taming of my hair, everything, must be credited to others.” I gestured to Sera. “Here is the artist primarily responsible for my transformation.” I sat back and allowed her to accept proper recognition.

“A marvel, Miss Wyndham.” He raised his cup to Sera. “I'm astonished. All that wildness so admirably tamed. A remarkable exhibition of your skills.” He delivered this remark with a roguish grin as if it was all just polite conversation.

Sera laughed.

His words were half compliment and half insult. Or more accurately: one-third compliment and two-thirds insult. I refused to let it rile me. Mostly because I knew it would please him too much if I did.

I inhaled deeply and changed the subject. “I've been thinking—”

“About ruffles?”

“No. About oak galls.”

“I see. And do you plan to paint them pink and dangle one from each ear?”

“How amusing you are.” I pretended to yawn. “For your information, my lord, oak galls are a common component—”

“Of ink. Yes, I know.” He lowered his voice, lost his mocking edge, and glanced over to see if Sera was listening to our conversation.

“I believe I'll take a turn about the room,” she said with a wink at me. “The paintings in here are quite fascinating. They merit closer study.”

In a near whisper I continued, “Normally, powdered gall is suspended in a solution of iron salts. The iron reacts and causes the dark purple color to appear. But
what if
…”

There was that phrase again,
what if,
the one that doomed me to a life alone. I shifted uneasily, wishing he would gaze at me with such skin-tingling intensity for a reason other than my theories on invisible ink.

“What if we”—I licked my lips and tried again—“what if
I
made a base out of colorless iron salts? A gall emulsion could be sponged over it later to develop the message.”

“How the devil would you make a colorless iron emulsion?” he asked.

“By applying heat to copperas. The minerals should separate and leave a clear iron. If not, I can try adding sulfur or perhaps potash.”

He mulled over the idea, pinching his dark brows together. My fingers itched to reach out and smooth away his frown. At last he nodded and his face relaxed. “It might work. The trick will be getting the liquid iron salts to dry invisible and remain nonresponsive to heat. It's certainly worth a try.”

I set my teacup on the saucer. “I'll collect some galls in the morning. With all the oak trees on Stranje House grounds, I'm bound to find enough for the experiment.”

“Very well.” Sebastian finished his shortbread. “I'll walk over from the dower cottage first thing in the morning to help.”

“No!” I blurted, thinking of how helping me had nearly cost him his life. “I can do the experiment alone. You mustn't expose yourself to more fumes. It's an unnecessary risk.” Immediately, I wished I hadn't said it.

“You consider
that
a risk? You think I need you to protect me?” He looked incensed. “Me?”

“Yes. No. What I mean is…”

He shook his head, his eyes darkened, and his jaw bunched up at the corners. I wished I could swallow the last thirty words back down my throat.

I was as annoyed at myself as he was, but for different reasons. While it was true I didn't
need
his assistance, I did
want
his company. Oh, why had I told him not to help me? Because I am absurdly practical, that's why.

If only I'd kept my dratted mouth shut for once. Infuriating though Lord Wyatt was, I rather enjoyed the sensation of my heart fluttering through my belly every time he turned his wicked blue eyes in my direction. I certainly didn't like him frowning at me. I'd much rather he harassed me.

“Of course not,” I said. “Obviously you are accustomed to taking much greater risks.”

Under the force of his stern inspection, I clamped my lips shut and waited, fidgeting with the fabric of my skirt, hoping he would counter my refusal of help and insist on hunting galls with me in the morning.

He didn't. He kept studying me with that inscrutable expression of his.

So, naturally, I blurted out more inanities. “You said it yourself, yesterday. I can be rather vexing at times. And dangerous. Even though Miss Pinswary doesn't think so, the fact of the matter is; you're right. Yesterday's fiasco proved it.” I pressed my lips together,
finally
locking them down after completely ruining any chance of seeing him tomorrow.

“I see.” He seemed to relax. “I did say that, didn't I?” He grabbed a handful of almonds. “It's true. You
are
quite vexing.” He worked his jaw muscles, shifting between a dimpled grin, a frown, and an annoying smirk. “Yes, and dangerous. Nevertheless, I must face the danger.”

He lifted his gaze to the imaginary distance, and posed in an attitude of martyrdom. It was truly ridiculous. I rolled my eyes. “For pity's sake.”

He clapped one hand over his heart in the manner of a pledge. “It is my sworn duty to suffer all manner of vexation for King and country. Even the red-haired, hot-tempered variety.”

“Oh, aren't you noble.” I crossed my arms and slumped back against the sofa.

The wretch inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment, even though he knew perfectly well I hadn't meant any such thing. Then he tossed an almond into his mouth, chomping it with boyish gusto.

I found it odd that he didn't attempt to look past me and watch Sera as she drifted around the room studying the flowers and paintings. He had, of course, bowed graciously to her when we entered, but as far as I could tell he had never insulted her as he did me. In short, he treated her respectfully. I envied her.

Captain Grey's voice rose above the noise of my brooding thoughts. “Why must you refuse help, when it is offered?”

We all turned at the sound.

“You know I'm grateful.” Miss Stranje placed her hand over his. He stared at her gloved fingers resting on his tanned roughened hand. She leaned toward him in an earnest, almost pleading manner, a manner that seemed completely foreign to her nature. “Exceedingly grateful. But, it's a day's journey, too much of an imposition for you. Especially with the diplomatic ball so near. No, she's my sister. It falls to me to set things right. I'll travel to Shoreham as soon as the arrangements can be made and deal with the matter myself.”

“I don't like it, Emma. Creditors don't behave like gentlemen. Thieves and brigands, the lot of them.”

“Thieves and brigands I can manage. It's my sister who troubles me.” She sighed and sat back. “You mustn't worry. If I leave at first light, I can complete the business and return by evening. You already do so much for me. To do more would be unseemly. You know what people will think.”

He set down his cup and saucer with a plunk. “I have no interest in their opinion. More to the point, there is and always has been an offer on the table.”

Sebastian cleared his throat reminding them that Sera and I were listening to their private conversation. Both turned sharply in our direction. Miss Stranje lowered her gaze, and Captain Grey stood abruptly. “It is past time Lord Wyatt and I took our leave.”

Sebastian rose and bowed to us. “Thank you for the pleasure of your company, ladies.” With that short dismissal, they strode out of the room, leaving the place as bleak and hollow as an empty theater.

Miss Stranje stood. Her neck was red and blotchy, and agitation rumpled her normally inscrutable features. Our intrepid headmistress appeared to be suffering. I wouldn't have believed such a thing possible. Except there it was, her lips pressed thin, her brow doing all manner of contortions.

“You will excuse me.” She hurried past us with a stilted gait. “I have the megrims.”

I did not doubt her head ached. Sera watched with an anxious expression as Miss Stranje hurried away. Taking the seat beside me, she whispered, “The captain has distressed her even more than Lady Daneska did.”

“Yes,” I agreed, and peered up at the Chinese screen wondering if Jane still watched us. I'd been so preoccupied I'd nearly forgotten we were being spied upon.

Sera chewed her bottom lip pensively and took a sip of her now cold tea. “There's nothing we can do for them,” she said. “But you, you are a different matter altogether. You like him, don't you?”

“Who? The captain?” I played the innocent. “He seems a very honorable man.”

She pursed her lips. “Don't fib. I can always tell.”

I relented. “Oh, very well. You mean Lord Wyatt. Yes, of course, I like him. Why wouldn't I?” The minute I said it, I thought of several very sensible reasons why I shouldn't care for him at all. For instance, the way he insults me at every turn.

“No, I mean you
really
like him.”

“Yes, he's quite useful in the laboratory.” I picked up a small square shortbread biscuit and stared at it, noting the uneven angles, wishing it were a perfect square, but it was, after all, merely a baked good, and baked goods did not ordinarily form perfect squares.

“Georgie”—she shook her head at me —“there's no use denying it. I can see how you feel. It's evident in so many things. Your fingers trembled when you reached for an almond at the same time he did. You watched him sideways over the rim of your teacup. Even now, as we speak of him, a pink flush is climbing your neck.”

“Fine.” I slouched against the back of the sofa. “You've caught me out. I cannot help myself. I
do
like him.” I thumped the place where he'd been sitting with my fist. “I do. Although why I should, with that acerbic tongue of his, is beyond me.”

Sera held up a finger. “I can give you one very good reason.”

She had my full attention.

With an elfish grin she said, “If he turned one of those smoldering looks on me, the way he did you, my knees would give way entirely.”

Smoldering look
? Did she mean his teasing smirk?

Jane practically danced into the room. “A vastly entertaining afternoon.” She whirled around the couch and snatched the imperfect shortbread right out of my hand. “Why, Miss Fitzwilliam, what have you done to poor Lord Wyatt to captivate him so completely?” She chuckled and flung herself into Miss Stranje's chair.

“Don't be absurd.” I reached for a chocolate. “Nothing could be further from the truth. You've mistaken a bully's delight in teasing for captivation. Did you not notice the way he ridicules me at every turn?”

Jane snorted. “Oh, he's interested, my girl.”

“I don't see how you can draw that conclusion.”

“Have you no brothers?”

“Two.”
Still alive
. “But they are grown and have no time for me.”

“Ah, well then you must take it from me. He wouldn't trouble himself to tease you if he wasn't intrigued.” Jane popped the biscuit into her mouth.

She was right. Where my older brothers paid me no heed, Robert had teased me.
Often
. I'd always known he meant it good-naturedly. Still, I wasn't certain Sebastian's teasing was the same. It felt different somehow.

Sera clarified, “That's the way men are.”

Jane must have noted my skepticism. “On the subject of men, you're going to have to take my word for—”

Madame Cho barged into the room, rapping her bamboo cane at all of us. “Sit like ladies!”

 

Twelve

CASE OF THE ACCIDENTAL SPY

We corrected our posture immediately, apparently not enough to satisfy Madame Dragon. She jabbed her stick in the direction of the clock. “Enough lazy. Change clothes. Help Cook. Now!” She chased us out of the drawing room, scuttling along behind, chasing us up the stairs with her stick like a giant crab nipping at our heels.

In the privacy of our dormitorium we changed into work dresses. Jane said, as she helped untie my tapes, “Sera was telling the truth. Miss Stranje expects us to learn to cook. She believes every young lady ought to understand the work of the house. We learn by doing.”

“Rather convenient, don't you think?” I muttered. “This way she saves money on servants.”

“That's not why.” Sera brushed out her flaxen hair and quickly plaited it. “Miss Stranje says we must always be prepared to adapt ourselves to any situation in life. Besides, we may not always be able to depend upon servants.” She tied a ribbon around her braid. “One never knows what the future might bring. Tess has foreseen awful things in her dreams. London in flames, cannonballs falling from the sky, buildings crumbled, and—”

“Well, I don't mind domestic chores.” Jane cut off Sera with a cautionary frown and a quick shake of her head.

“What an odd school this is.”
If it was a school at all.
I had serious doubts on that score. I knew three things for certain.

One—Stranje House was no ordinary finishing school.

Two—nor was it the cruel reformatory gossip purported.

Three—Miss Stranje was up to something and we girls were to be part of it. Although, I had yet to lay hold of exactly what that something was.

I hung Jane's beautiful dress in her wardrobe, giving the lush striped fabric one last smoothing, and decided to try procuring information via a different tactic. With a forlorn sigh I said, “I suppose household chores are not so bad. At least we aren't being horsewhipped or locked inside a mummy case.”

Jane rolled off her stockings and pulled on a pair of serviceable woolen socks. “You do realize that was all a ruse?”

“But I saw blood.
Your
blood.”

“Yes. I suppose you did.” She slid her feet into a pair of brown work boots. “Those tines are rather sharp and, on occasion, I might be a bit clumsy.” Jane smiled with a little too much sympathy.