“I . . . erm . . . what are you doing here?”

I silently thank the spirits when Eleanor, dressed in a tailored burgundy day gown with an art piece of a hat, climbs out of the black carriage and joins her brother. She frowns, clearly stumped, until recognition lights up her face. Instead of guilty, she looks delighted. “Jessamin? Is that you?”

I give her a wry smile, hoping I didn’t misjudge her friendliness last night. “I have had a series of misfortunes since we met and wondered if I might trouble you with some questions.”

She laughs, hands her umbrella to Mr. Carlisle, and then wraps her hand through my elbow. “Oh, I knew I was right to make you my friend. Finally, someone interesting in this whole sleeping town. Let’s get you off the porch before you’re attached to Ernest in some vicious gossip he is no doubt already fearing will ruin his political aspirations.”

“I—of course not, I—” he stammers, his face as red as his hair.

Eleanor ignores him. “Mr. Carlisle, we will be in the parlor. Have Mrs. Jenkins bring dry clothes for my friend, and we’ll take some tea—” She notices my expression change, and narrows her eyes. “No tea then. We’ll have some chocolate. You do like chocolate?”

Relieved, I squeeze her hand with my own. “Nothing could sound better at the moment.”

After my umbrella is taken, my clothes are changed, and the chocolate is delivered, we settle near a cozy fireplace in Eleanor’s parlor. It is decorated in stripes and cream colors, far less ornate than I would have expected.

Ernest walks in to join us, but Eleanor cuts him a look and shakes her head. “I think this is a ladies’ talk.” Again his skin tone matches his hair and he bows out. She leans in, her eyes gleaming. “I must warn you. I am the biggest gossip in all of Avebury.”

I take a sip of the thick, bittersweet drink. “Well, at least you’re honest about it. And if you are a gossip, then I hope you know something of the people I’m avoiding.”

“Oh, dear,” she says, but her smile grows bigger.

“Do you know anything about Lord Downpike? The minister of defense?”

Her smile vanishes, replaced with genuine concern. “What has he done? Are you all right? I’m so sorry, I tried to protect you last night. That’s why I pulled you away when he tried to cut in on the dance floor. It had nothing to do with Ernest. You were probably the highlight of my brother’s entire year. But Lord Downpike had been watching you so closely and I simply couldn’t stand idle. I would not wish that man on my worst enemy. Dark rumors. Besides, Uncle and he don’t get on at all. They had a dreadful falling-out a couple of years ago.”

I find I am stroking the smooth surface of my glove. “Yes, he . . . well, let’s just say I find your enmity with him greatly comforting.”

“What did he do?”

I debate lying, but if she’s nobility, she should know about the magic. And if she doesn’t, she is not much use to me in avoiding this mess. “He spied on me with his familiars, kidnapped me, trapped me in a room without a door, and then proceeded to smash each of the fingers on this hand with a hammer.”

She leans back as though I have struck a blow, and then pulls out a snuffbox. Pinching some between her fingers, she whispers and, to my surprise, blows it straight into my face.

I sneeze.

She clicks the snuffbox shut emphatically. “Well, I’m confused. Whatever would he want with you? You’re lovely, but you haven’t a drop of magical blood in you. He never concerns himself with commoners. Oh, sorry. Here.” She holds out an embroidered handkerchief, and I take it to dab my nose, glaring at her.

“I could have told you I have nothing to do with the secret magical societies apparently flourishing in Albion.”

“Uncle will want to hear about this. Oh, he will be simply livid when he finds that Lord Downpike has revealed himself to you! It’s not done, you see.”

“You’ve just done it. I had no idea whether you were capable of magic.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “I am barely fit to fill a teacup with the amount of power I have. No one cares about me.”

“So it’s true then, that all the gentry can do these things?”

“More or less. Some of us barely bother, we can do so little. We’re all required to learn the basics, is all. But some, like Uncle and Downpike, could move mountains. I think Uncle has, now that I am on the topic. Ernest studies as hard as he can, hoping to join their ranks among the powerful someday. However, I aspire only to join the ranks of the well-dressed and fashionably late.”

I frown, stirring my chocolate. “But if I recall my lessons correctly, wasn’t there a period in Alben history where accused witches were hunted and burned at the stake? How did you all become gentry, then?” I had thought the accusations of witchcraft and magic were entirely false, but apparently not.

“Oh, that. It was a nasty business. You know how men can . . . sow seeds where seeds ought not be sown? Well, we had just come through the Lily War, and the royal line was finally settled. The king thought magical power ought to be consolidated to loyal families, and that the security of the crown depended on keeping power with the wealthy and educated. So, those who had been born outside of the approved family lines . . .”

“Were exterminated.” I set down my cup, no longer thirsty. “That is horrible.”

“Worse things have been done in the name of crown and country. But yes. I think we can both agree it was.” She frowns and then shakes her head as though shaking away bad associations and thoughts. “Back to you! This is very exciting. We haven’t had a real shake-up in the hierarchy since Lord Ackerly showed up two years ago, all dashing and aloof and powerful. Ever since then it’s been the most dreary sort of political posturing without any action. I loathe politics. But if Downpike is misbehaving, things are bound to get interesting! Whatever did you do to catch his eye?”