Free Whisper the Dead (The Lovegrove Legacy) by Alyxandra Harvey Page A

Her white gown ballooned around her ankles. She fought her way clear of the daffodils and bounced right off a rather rudely solid shadow.
    Tobias.
    “Not you again,” she groaned when his hands closed around her upper arms. She knew it wasn’t to steady her, as she wasn’t the least bit wobbly. He was as stern and unyielding as the statues lining the dance floor. “My Lord Killingsworth,” she exclaimed very loudly, warning off her cousins. “I didn’t take you for the type to lurk in bushes. What would the etiquette books say?”
    “Where are you going?” he asked her sharply.
    She raised her eyebrows. “That’s none of your business.”
    “I am your Keeper; therefore, you are my business,” he informed her.
    She pulled free of his hold. The imprint of his fingers was warm on her bare arms. “Nothing about me is yours, my lord,” she told him. “So find another occupation.”
    “And yet I remain.”
    “Yes, and it’s rather rude actually.” Rain began to patter through the garden. His gold buttons gleamed in the faint light spilling out of the open window. He looked over her shoulder. If he looked too carefully would he see Emma? A moth drifted between them.
    “The rain will ruin your pretty coat,” Gretchen said hurriedly, seeking to distract him. He peered down at the water stains with irritation. “You should go inside where it’s safe,” she added sweetly. Fog curled through the garden, haloing the lights.
    “I must insist you accompany me, Lady Gretchen.”
    The fog was rather insistent too. It pushed against them, clinging to the walls of the house. If she let him lead her away, Emma could slip away. The shadow of another large bird passed over, white as hot ashes.
    “Oh very well,” she sighed, exasperated. She stalked away, not realizing that Tobias had extended his arm to assist her, like any polite gentleman. Her voice drifted behind her. “Are you coming or what?”
    By the time they’d circled the house and crossed the patio to the ballroom doors, the buzzing in Gretchen’s head was incessant, overpowering the violins.
    Tobias paused, frowning at her. “Are you ill?”
    She shook her head even though she was a little queasy. The vibrations in her head made her feel awful. She swallowed grimly and focused on the annoying sound, trying to hear the voices of dead witches as Mrs. Sparrow had told her. She pressed on her temples, trying to alleviate the pressure. She thought she caught the fragment of a word, then nothing.
    She closed her eyes. It was just as loud, but it seemed to be coming from Tobias, and not the strange collection of familiars as she’d assumed. She focused harder, following it to its source. It took a long moment and it made her feel disconcertingly brittle. She pointed to his left pocket. “One of your charms is off.”
    “I think not.”
    She rolled her eyes, then stopped when it made her head hurt.“I’m a Whisperer, remember?” She stuck her hand in his coat pocket and yanked out the offending charm. It was a cracked wolf’s tooth, leaking magic. “And this thing is like a nail in my skull,” she added, tossing it into the bushes. “Now if you’re very lucky, I might not cast up my accounts on your very shiny shoes.”
    “I’d consider it a kindness,” he said mildly, following her inside. She didn’t notice his outstretched hand, waiting to steady her if she fainted.
    She saw Penelope almost at once, chatting with a muscular young man. She smiled cheerfully, looking just like a happy debutante at a ball and nothing like a girl who had just helped her cousin escape through a window. Emma, thankfully, was nowhere to be seen.
    “Gretchen,” Penelope said. “This is Ian Stone, my very own Keeper. He has read all of Shakespeare, so I think I shall keep him. Also, he is going to dance with me.”
    “I’d be honored,” he replied, not betraying a flicker of reaction to being ordered to dance. “I’m just glad I’m in your good graces. That