His Lordship Possessed

His hands fell away. “Now I do believe you.”

“Excellent.” I turned my head. “Bring the carriage round, Connell.” I saw the surprise on the servant’s face before I said, “Your master and I are going to call on Lord and Lady Walsh.”

* * *

Dredmore said very little as we rode to the Hill. I pulled up the shade so I could see the mansions glittering in the sunlight once again. While I would never care for the ton’s lofty community, seeing it burnt to the ground had not been an improvement.

“Do you mean to expose Walsh in front of his family?” Dredmore asked.

“Not at all.” As the carriage stopped, I reached up and felt for my pendant. “We will speak to him privately.”

He frowned. “If he is under Reaper control, he will deny every charge, and then use his influence to destroy my credibility and your life.”

“Not this time.” I reached out and patted the back of his hand. When he seized my wrist, I didn’t pull away. “We’ve arrived. Don’t change your mind now.”

He held on to me. “You haven’t told me everything about the future, have you?”

“What, and spoil the surprise?” I smiled as Connell opened the door. “Where would be the fun in that?”

The Walshes’ forbidding old butler came directly to answer the door, doubtless astonished by the prospect of anyone calling at such an unseemly, early hour.

“Lord Dredmore and Miss Kittredge to see Lord Walsh,” I told the old winge before he could open his mouth. “On quite urgent business.”

The butler reared back, the skin surrounding his nose drawing up as he ignored me and addressed Dredmore. “The master is not receiving, milord.”

Dredmore brushed past him. “He will see me now.”

“It’s a terribly private family matter,” I told the outraged butler as I followed suit. “We’ll wait for him in his study.”

It took Lord Walsh less than three minutes to stalk into the room and slam the doors behind him. There was egg yolk on his chin and he still wore his morning jacket and what looked like fur-lined bed slippers. “Lucien. Good God, man, what is the meaning of this?”

“Your wife came to see me this morning, Lord Walsh.” I waited for him to lower himself to notice me. “She believes your deceased first wife has cast a spell on her. But as it turns out, you’re the one who has been bespelled.”

The first tinge of purple bloomed in his florid cheeks. “How dare you—”

“With very little trepidation, actually.” I closed the distance between us and lifted my skirts. “But I do apologize in advance for my actions.”

I kicked him in the groin with as much force as I could muster, and stepped back as he shrieked and dropped to the carpet. He didn’t vomit, however, which annoyed me. “I see you’re going to be difficult. Lucien, please hold his head for a moment.”

Dredmore came up from behind and clapped his hands over Walsh’s ears.

“Thank you.” I grabbed the man’s chin and inserted two of my fingers into his mouth, pushing them back as far as I could until he gagged. “Watch your boots.” I sidestepped the spew of Walsh’s breakfast, waiting until he coughed out a gleaming red stone. Using a kerchief to pick it up, I wrapped it carefully before passing it to Dredmore. “Don’t swallow this.”

“I’ve no desire to.” He pocketed the bundle.

Lord Walsh finished vomiting shortly thereafter and, once Lucien had helped him to his feet, began to make his own apologies. “I say. Terribly sorry. Must have eaten something that was . . .” He trailed off as he looked at both of us with visible bewilderment. “Do I know you?”

“Dad? What the devil?” A bleary-eyed Montrose burst into the room, tottering a little as he rushed to his father’s side.

“You can come in, too, Miss Walsh,” I told the woman hovering outside the door. “This concerns you as well.”

The timid Miranda tiptoed in, her hands worrying at the edges of her lace fichu while she surveyed the messy scene. “It seems my father is ill,” she said, her voice wavering. “You should perhaps leave so that we might attend to him.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Lord Walsh anymore,” I assured her. “I helped him get the spirit stone you shoved down his throat out of his belly.”

“He will suffer some gaps in his memory,” Dredmore added, “but they should not be permanent.”

As Miranda shrank back, I eyed the mess on the floor. “You’ll probably want to have the carpet cleaned right away. When egg yolk dries it’s as hard to comb out as plaster on cashmere.” Dredmore got to the door before Miranda and closed it. “Thank you, Lucien.”

He leaned back against the door. “My pleasure, Charmian.”

Miranda skittered away from him, going to stand behind a wingbacked chair. “Monty, call for the nobbers. Hurry.”

“Dredmore is a deathmage, Monty. I wouldn’t twitch an eyelash.” I went to Miranda, and dragged her over to face the still-wheezing Nolan Walsh. “It’s time to tell your father exactly what you and your husband have been up to.”

“My husband is dead,” she protested, at the same moment Lord Walsh said, “My daughter is a widow.”

“On the contrary, her husband is still alive and hiding somewhere in the city,” I told him. “He’s probably too young to be a Lost Timer, but I expect his Talian father was.”

Miranda gaped at me. “My dear Lestin died in battle.”

“Your husband faked his death to get out of the militia, come to Toriana, and—with your help—begin the groundwork for the Reaper invasion.” I nodded at Nolan Walsh. “While he didn’t have any powers for Zarath to use, I imagine your father’s wealth, power, and influence proved quite useful, once the Aramanthan took control of his mind and body.”

Lord Walsh looked horrified. “Miranda, what have you done?”

A transformation not unlike that of an Aramanthan possession came over Walsh’s shy daughter. “You think money can buy anything, Father? We live every day under Her Majesty’s grinding boot heel. The Reapers are coming to save us. They will muster our forces, crush the Empire, and end the occupation. Toriana will finally be free.”

“Is that what they told you?” Dredmore sounded scathing. “The Reapers have no motive to fight for our liberation. Their sole interest in Toriana is to occupy it, and use its citizens and resources to ignite another mage war. Had your plan been successful, Miss Walsh, they would have burned their way across our country, and installed their own tyrants as our rulers.”

“All Torians would have been bespelled and turned into mindless, thoughtless slaves,” I put in. “Rather like you.”

“You know nothing about our plans.” She struggled viciously against my hold. “You think you can stop them? It’s too late. The ships are almost here.”

“They’re still a fortnight from shore,” I corrected her. “By the time they arrive I expect the coastal fleet will be waiting to greet them.” I glanced at Dredmore. “You can arrange a proper reception, can’t you, milord?”

His upper lip curled. “Indeed.”

Miranda screamed something wholly unladylike as she hooked her fingers into claws and lunged for my eyes.

I put an end to that nonsense by slapping her. “You might have pulled it off, had you left your stepmother alone. But you hated her for taking your mother’s place, and you feared she might discover that Lord Walsh had been possessed. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had, you know.” I looked up to see Lady Diana standing in the doorway. “No one would have believed her.”

“My father should never have married that sniveling bitch.” Hatred contorted Miranda’s half-red face. “Always pretending to be so kind and sweet and loving. All she was interested in was his fortune.”

“My family was.” Lady Diana joined us. “I married so I wouldn’t end an old maid.” She looked at her husband. “Nolan, I expect you have business to attend to in town. If you would send for our physick before you