I fought the urge to laugh at Julianna’s reddening face.
Mr. Sternfeld flicked his gaze about, as if searching for another topic. Genevieve’s sketchbook caught his attention.
“You draw, Miss Genevieve?” he said brightly, picking it up from the grass. She had nearly finished the sketch. It depicted the lawn and several figures, one of them Mr. Sternfeld himself.
“A little,” my stepsister said.
“A lot,” I corrected. “She’s been drawing for ages.”
Genevieve elbowed me in the ribs.
“Masterful!” Mr. Sternfeld exclaimed. “Tell me, how did you render these forms with so few strokes?”
“Well, I used the broad side of the charcoal to block out the shadows—”
“I doubt Mr. Sternfeld wants to hear about your amateur techniques, Genevieve,” Julianna said. She snatched the sketchbook and tossed it over her shoulder. “My mother hired a famous Aquatian artist to paint my portrait. Now his work is truly masterful. I would love to show you, Mr. Sternfeld.”
Mr. Sternfeld cleared his throat. “Thank you, Miss Alderidge, but I’m afraid I’ll be busy.”
“Why is that? Will you be attending the Season?” Julianna said eagerly.
“I won’t. But my sister Olivia will,” he said. “I’m chaperoning her.”
I hadn’t heard about Mr. Sternfeld having a sister. Probably because she wasn’t the one with the inheritance.
“Is your sister here too?” Genevieve inquired.
“Ah, yes. She arrived last night, but Olivia is deathly timid,” Mr. Sternfeld said, easing his arm out of Julianna’s claws. “New places scare her.”
“Poor dear,” Julianna crooned. She inched closer to him. “It must be so difficult for her.”
I rolled my eyes at her poor attempt at compassion.
“That’s unfortunate,” Genevieve said. “I always find strange places more bearable when I have a friend. Perhaps Amarante and I can meet her sometime.”
Mr. Sternfeld beamed. “Now there’s an idea! How would you like to join us and Grandfather for dinner next week, Miss Genevieve? You too, Miss Amarante. And your mother, if she deigns to join us.”
“That would be wonderful,” Genevieve said.
I nodded, knowing that Lydia would force us to go whether I liked it or not.
“I’d love to meet your sister as well, Mr. Sternfeld,” Julianna said, batting her eyes.
“Apologies, Miss Julianna. Our dining table is rather small,” he said. “Perhaps another time?”
Julianna was fuming when Mr. Sternfeld went off to tell Lydia about the dinner plans. My stepmother would be elated. After all, this was an auction and Mr. Sternfeld, the poor man, was the prize cow we had just won.
“Well, Genevieve, I reckon you’re proud of yourself?” our witch of a neighbor said.
“Pardon?” My stepsister looked taken aback.
Julianna’s heeled shoe smashed into Genevieve’s sketchbook. “Don’t act innocent. Mr. Sternfeld is soon to become a lord. You ought to give up. He will never marry a commoner’s daughter.”
I clenched my fists. “Take that back, Julianna.”
She merely huffed. “That is a horrid gown you have on, Amarante. Did you raid your mother’s closet? Oh, I forget. You don’t have one.”
Before I could spit out an equally venomous remark, she sneered and stalked away.
“Oh, Amarante! How could she?” Genevieve exclaimed.
“Insulting us in our own home! She gets nastier by the day,” I said. “And look what she did to your drawing!”
The sketch was now crinkled and stained with Julianna’s filthy footprint. Genevieve frowned and brushed it off with her sleeve. “I wonder why she’s like this. Hardships of her own, perhaps?”
I scoffed. Only Genevieve would be concerned about Julianna, who basked in her own sense of superiority because her mother was a dame and her father was a wealthy courtier.
I was more concerned with how to punish her.
A shriek of laughter came from the children playing a few feet away. A boy was chasing his friend with a handful of dirt from the rose bushes, which Rowena had recently fertilized. I grinned.
At the front of the garden, Lydia tapped her glass with a fork, beaming from ear to ear. No doubt Mr. Sternfeld had just invited her to dinner. I took the opportunity to slip off.
“It is an honor...no—a privilege, to welcome a new member to our neighborhood, Mr. Cedric Sternfeld!” my stepmother announced.
The guests gave a polite applause as Mr. Sternfeld stepped up. I ducked behind a dense rosebush with pale yellow blooms. The boy chasing his friend now sat on the grass, kneading the dirt in his hands. I tapped him on the shoulder.
“Mind if I take some of that?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“Much obliged.” I pinched the dirt between my fingers and emerged from the bushes.
My stepmother was still speaking, praising Mr. Sternfeld’s charm and good manners and how he would do wonders to liven up the neighborhood. Julianna sat at the table nearest to my spot at the bushes, her fingers inches away from her tea. It was strongly brewed, perfect to conceal something of similar color.
I sprinkled the dirt into my palm and began picking out the roots and gravel.
“Psst! What are you doing?”
I looked down. A couple of ginger-haired boys stared at me from the bushes, their cheeks flushed apple red. They were Tessa Donahue’s brothers, Frederick and Teddy.
Tessa, a dear friend of Julianna’s, lived a block away. She was in charge of her brothers today since their parents were absent. Unfortunately for her, the boys were the most rambunctious scamps on the block.
“There’s a witch in our midst,” I said to them, flicking away the last piece of root. “And I’m taking her down.”
The two exchanged a glance. Fred gave me a gap-toothed grin and thumped his chest. “We can help.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you up for the task?”
They nodded.
Lydia eventually concluded her speech and the guests applauded. Julianna began chatting with Tessa, who incidentally was sitting beside her. Neither of them noticed me huddling with the Donahue brothers, or giving dirt to Ted.
“Got it?” I whispered.
“Got it,” they chorused.
And then chaos ensued.
Fred darted out and snatched Julianna’s straw hat, tearing off the ribbons and crepe flowers. Julianna shrieked. Tessa’s face grew as red as her hair.
“Fred! Stop that at
