Maggie MacKeever Read Online Free PDF

way of it. I suspected something was in the wind.” Loveday waited for the inevitable explosion, which was soon forthcoming. “You said you was betrothed to who?”
    “I knew you wouldn’t like it above half, Jem, but what was I to do?”
    “Deuce take it, you could’ve told the truth! What maggot has got in your head that you should say you was engaged to a curst rum touch like Jasper?” Jem’s voice was a muted roar, for Jasper Assheton, a pet of the scandalmongers, was one of his least favorite people.
    “I had to tell her something!  No one will know; I told her it was secret because Papa couldn’t approve. Please, Jem, don’t give me away! I vow I’ll confess the whole when we leave.”
    “A pretty sort of gudgeon you must think me!” Jem retorted scathingly. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you’d taken leave of your senses. Oh, Lord, don’t take a pet! I still don’t see why you had to tell such a whopper, but that’s not to say I’ll give you away. Though it’s my private opinion,” he hissed, as they came to a stop outside the morning room, “that we’ll both find ourselves at point non plus!”
    * * * *
    Resplendent in emerald velvet, the duchess waited within. Loveday was surprised to find the pleasant room, with its yellow papering and draperies, vaguely familiar. “You spent much time with me here as a child,” Isolda said, and Loveday knew the astute old woman had noted her startled recognition.
    Isolda was the sort of person who saw more than she should. Loveday wished Jem had stayed with her instead of rushing off to the stables.  “Good morning. I’m sorry I was delayed.”
    “My housekeeper, no doubt.” The older woman’s comment was wry. “What did she prose on about this time? The grand Ballerfast tradition? Or did she offer to make you a charm? She dabbles in magic, you know.”
    Loveday’s eyes widened. “Does she really?”
    “She does, indeed. I own I have a favorite spell, though I am much too timid to try it myself.” Isolda’s voice changed to a low guttural chant, and her lids dropped to hood her brilliant eyes.
    “The common lily,” Isolda said, in good imitation of her housekeeper, “if picked under the sign of Leo, mixed with the juice of laurel, and placed under a dungheap, will breed worms. These worms, powdered and placed in a person’s clothing, will prevent that person from sleeping.”
    “Heavens! I should think so.”
    Isolda, herself once again, smiled. “Shall I tell you a love spell? Wash your arms and hands thoroughly to open the pores; then rub them with a mixture of twenty grams of essence of cloves, ten grams of essence of geranium, and two hundred grams of alcohol at ninety degrees. Intriguing, is it not? Mrs. Snugglebutt claims that verbena works equally well.”
    Again Loveday suspected that Isolda was testing her. “Come now, ma’am,” she protested, “you surely don’t mean to tell me that you credit such things!”
    “Of course not. Mrs. Snugglebutt fancies herself a wise woman and I humor her in her odd flights. We’re so understaffed here that I shudder at the thought of her leaving us. Dillian believes, though, which you might bear in mind.”
    Loveday was given little time to ponder Isolda’s strange comments, for the room was suddenly invaded by a huge, malevolent-looking black cat.
    “That,” Isolda explained distastefully as the creature paused in the open window to inspect a hind leg, “is Verdelet. I believe you are about to make Dillian’s acquaintance. I must warn you again that she often displays a decided lack of stability.” Even as Isolda spoke, Loveday’s attention was arrested by a pure young voice from outside, softly singing a mournful air about unrequited love and tragic death. Loveday listened for the words.
    A young woman suddenly appeared, pushing Verdelet off the windowsill and climbing in after him. She looked at Loveday with calm curiosity.
    “You go beyond the line of being