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

poor bloke this morning will limp for a month from that dog bite.”
    Penelope sniffed. “Serves him right for lurking.”
    “It’s probably for the best.” Ian winked at Gretchen. “I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t have passed your cousin’s literary inquisition.”
    “I wonder if you could fetch us some wine before we dance,” Penelope asked. “While my aunt is studiously pretending not to see us.”
    “Of course.”
    “I like your Keeper much better than mine,” Gretchen remarked once he’d walked away. He was all smiles and amiableness. Nothing like Tobias.
    “He can quote
Macbeth
,” Penelope said. It was all that mattered to her. He could have smelled like an old shoe and she wouldn’t have cared, as long as he had the proper appreciation for Shakespeare and gothic novels.
    “What about Emma?” Gretchen whispered.
    “She’s gone,” she whispered back. “I had to distract that pestilent, ill-bred canker blossom Virgil.”
    “Does he suspect anything?”
    “I don’t know. An osprey made a mess on his shoulder.” She grinned over the top of her fan. Her mother had painted it with a scene from
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
, complete with Oberon, Titania, and Nick Bottom, with his donkey’s head. Gretchen wondered if her aunt would paint Tobias with a donkey’s head. Penelope stood on her tiptoes. “Have you seen Lucius anywhere?”
    “I’m afraid not.”
    “Blast.”
    Ian returned with their wineglasses before she could find Lucius. Unfortunately, he also returned with Tobias. “Apparently there was a snake in the ballroom earlier,” Ian told them. “Everyone is flying into the boughs over it.”
    Tobias frowned. “That is rather unusual.”
    “Probably came in from the gardens,” Penelope said airily. “You know how dramatic everyone gets. You’re not afraid towaltz, are you, my lord?” she asked as the orchestra began to play again.
    “Snakes and all?” Ian bowed with a smile. Penelope glanced at Gretchen and Tobias.
    “You should dance too,” she suggested archly. “So no one suspects why you’re really here, Lord Killingsworth.”
    Gretchen widened her eyes threateningly at her cousin. She was clearly reading too many gothic romances and Keats and those other poets. It was rotting her brain. Didn’t she realize that Gretchen didn’t want to dance with Tobias? She wanted to
kick
him.
    He appeared to feel the same way, if his stiff posture was any judge.
    “I’m sure Lord Killingsworth can spy on me just as well from over there,” she said.
    “And yet why waste a perfectly good waltz?” he returned, holding out his arm in invitation. She saw the dare reflected in the arch of his eyebrow. He didn’t think she’d accept. Her hand settled on his arm, slapping down as though to swat an irritating fly.
    “Now look what you’ve done,” she said, cheerful despite herself. She refused to let the Order steal her sense of humor away completely. “You’ve punished us both by daring me to accept.”
    “It’s an honor, I assure you.”
    The buzzing began almost before he’d started speaking. She smiled at him wryly. “It’s no use lying to a Whisperer,” she said as he led her to the dance floor. “Surely you must know that.”
    “I …” He looked surprised and, possibly, chagrined. She must have imagined that. Still, she’d flustered him, and it wasthe most emotion she’d ever seen on his perfect face. He finally looked nineteen instead of ninety.
    The music swelled around them, violins and pianoforte braiding together seamlessly. She felt nervous for no good reason, especially when his arm went around her waist, drawing her closer. His eyes, the hard blue of a winter sky, met hers. She thought she heard a wolf howl. She swallowed, suddenly terrified that she was going to start babbling.
    The music seemed to get louder but everything else faded. She was acutely aware of the light pressure of his hand on her lower back and his fingers clasped around hers. The