Kat, Incorrigible Read Online Free PDF Page A

closed behind Stepmama. Then she shook her head.
    “That,” she said, “was very, very foolish.”
    I smiled innocently up at her, my fingers straining around the hidden books. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Who is it, really, in the drawing room? A farmer’s boy? The milkman? I’m sure I’ll be terribly amused by whatever joke you’ve prepared for me.”
    “Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe only I will.”
    She nodded at my dusty gown. “Did you find out what you wanted to know when you went nosing around under my bed?”
    “You mean in these?” I brought my left hand out from behind my back to show her the magic books. “Oh, I didn’t need to read these to find out what you’ve been up to.”
    “No?” She raised one perfect eyebrow, a gesture that usually drove me mad with frustration. I could never imitate her, no matter how hard I tried. “Enlighten me,” Angeline said. “I’m truly curious.”
    “Oh, you’ll find out,” I said. “Just step into the drawing room and see who’s waiting for you.”
    “Fine. I shall.”
    Angeline took off her pelisse. She patted down her dark hair as she gazed into the murky mirror that hung beside the parasol stand. She twitched the puffy shoulders of her gown into place and smiled at me sweetly. “I do hope you’re enjoying this moment very much, darling Kat, because I promise you will pay for it.”
    “Just go into the drawing room,” I said.
    Then I threw Stepmama’s pelisse onto its hook and chased after Angeline as, for once, she actually followed my orders.
    Inside the drawing room, we found Stepmama glowing with satisfaction. That had to come from the news of Mr. Carlyle’s first-quarter payment, I thought. Only the promise of money ever put such pleasure in her eyes. She was in such a good mood that she barely even grimaced when she saw me still wearing my dirty gown.
    “Girls,” she purred. “May I introduce your father’s new student? Can you imagine, he has come all the way from Oxford, on foot, to study with your father! Mr. Carlyle, may I present my husband’s two younger daughters? These are Miss Angeline and Miss—”
    She broke off as Frederick Carlyle burst to his feet, shoving aside his full cup of tea so hard it sloshed and spilled all across its saucer.
    “Angeline?” he said. “Miss Angeline? Is it really you?”
    “I …” Angeline paused, licking her lips nervously. I had never seen my arrogant sister so discomposed. “I am Angeline, yes,” she said. “But sir—”
    He shook his head. His dark blue eyes were wide and wondering. “I’ve come so far,” he said. “I would have walked forever.”
    In three quick strides he was across the room, knocking elegant little tables aside. Stepmama’s brand-new Wedgwood teapot, delivered all the way from London, went flying to the ground. The sound of its crash, as it shattered, mingled with Stepmama’s moan of pain. Two vases followed, splashing water and lilies across the carpet as they broke. But the clatter of breaking china never slowed Mr. Carlyle in his path.
    He threw himself down on one knee and grasped Angeline’s hand. “Miss Angeline,” he said. “Marry me. Please. I beg you.”
    Stepmama’s voice came out as a shriek. “What in heaven’s name—?”
    Angeline opened her mouth and closed it again. Color rose in her cheeks until they were a deep, dusky red.
    Frederick Carlyle bent his head to kiss her hand passionately. It made a disgusting, wet, sucking sound. I might have gagged if I hadn’t been trying so hard not to laugh.
    Elissa opened the door behind us, holding a plateful of Mrs. Watkins’s best biscuits, and froze in openmouthed astonishment.
    “My goodness,” I whispered into Angeline’s ear. “It’s almost like … magic!”

    Angeline found me in my attic an hour later. I’d been ordered up there by Stepmama the very moment she’d regained her breath, so I’d missed the rest of the entertainment. I would wager anything that Elissa