The Lost Heir (The Gryphon Chronicles, Book 1) (33 page)

At last, he found a side door to the garden and stepped out into the moonlight. “Tell Derek everything you saw, all right? And would you give him a message for me?”

“Certainly. I’m still a messenger fairy, even without my wings.” Her shoulders drooped again with a crestfallen air.

Jake glanced down at her in sympathy. “Tell him I’m sorry about throwing him and Dani out before. He’ll know what you mean. I didn’t want to do it. I had no choice, because of the Oboedire spell. Tell him the spell is broken now, but it showed me inside Waldrick’s mind and revealed that he and Fionnula were the ones who killed my parents, not Sir George Hobbes.

“Most of all,” he continued, “just in case anything happens to me, make sure you tell Derek they put a spell on him, too, the day my parents died. They scrambled his Guardian instincts with magic somehow so that he wouldn’t sense the danger to my parents and come to protect them. He’s been blaming himself for years, but he needs to know it’s not his fault. Will you tell him all that for me?”

“I will. But I still think you should run away with me now and tell him yourself,” she chided. “It would mean more to him coming from you.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I’ve got to make this right. I owe it to my parents to confront those murderers, and with all the guests here, this is as safe a chance as I’m likely to get.”

“Do be careful, Jacob. Your uncle will stop at nothing to hold onto everything he’s stolen from you, and he’s still got Fionnula to protect him. She’s extremely dangerous.”

“I know. Don’t worry,” he said as he helped her out of his breast pocket, “they still think I’m under the Oboedire spell and ready to do whatever Waldrick commands. They’ve got quite a surprise in store.” Jake crouched down to set her gently on the ground. When he opened his hand, she stepped off his palm onto the garden path.

“Thank you for freeing me.”

Just then, he heard the butler calling for him from inside the house. “Master Jacob! They’re ready for you, sir! Oh, Master Jacob, where are you?”

Jake glanced over his shoulder, then looked down at Gladwin once more. “Off you go, then.”

“Don’t do anything foolish, Jacob, please!”

He snorted. “You don’t know me very well yet, do you?” he replied with a wink. “Foolish is my forté. Be careful out there.”

She waved. “You, too!”

He nodded to her, then rose, and turned back toward the house. Opening the door to go back inside, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Gladwin was all right.

He saw a faint trail of golden sparkles going down the garden path—at ground level instead of in the air, where she should have been.
Poor little thing.
Then Fionnula’s singsong voice penetrated the house. “Oh,
Jaaaacob!
It’s time for you to
join
us!”

He looked forward, squaring his shoulders. Then he narrowed his eyes in angry determination.

Time to go to the ball.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Jake Goes To the Ball

Waldrick had the strangest feeling in his head, as if some intruder had gone poking around in his brain. He had no time to fret about it, though. Everything was going according to plan. The house looked perfect. Even the flower bouquets everywhere seemed to sparkle. His army of uniformed footmen worked with inhuman precision, bringing out the endless banquet of delicacies to eat.

Fionnula was looking particularly radiant, thanks to the magic of an extra-large feather. She had on a scarlet gown with a bustle in the back. A white feather boa hung around her neck, her raven hair pinned up with curling tendrils hanging down her back. He could almost trick himself into forgetting about her true, squidy form.

As his hostess for the evening, she stood by his side, greeting the last of their guests to arrive.

Waldrick fixed his suave smile in place and shook hands with royal dukes, ambassadors, captains of industry, famous artists, top dandies, and celebrated wits famous for their sarcastic humor. Everyone who was anyone was there, including a flock of dainty young girls in pastel candy-colored ballgowns, all eager to meet Jake.

The jeweled ladies, their mamas, were in competition already, determined to get a look at the young Earl of Griffon as a possible future husband for their highborn daughters. Any girl would like to grow up to become a countess one day.

Of course, the brat would not live long enough to grow up and marry one of these ninnies, Waldrick thought smugly. Nevertheless, the moment had come to present his nephew to the world. Flickers the butler came and whispered in his ear that the boy was standing by, ready to make his entrance on cue. Jake was waiting at the top of the grand stairs, just as they had choreographed it earlier.

Waldrick nodded. Then he signaled to the orchestra to stop playing, and tapped politely on his champagne glass to get the crowd’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, dear friends, thank you all so much for coming tonight to celebrate this most memorable occasion with our family. As you know, my brother and his beautiful wife were taken from us eleven years ago, but an even greater wound than their deaths was the fact that their small son was nowhere to be found. Well, as you all know by now,” he continued with his most gallant smile, “this precious boy has been restored to us.” He pretended to fight back emotion, and Fionnula patted his arm, pretending to comfort him.

A hush fell over the entire ballroom.

Waldrick pursed his lips, cast his gaze toward the ceiling, and took a deep breath, as though finding the strength to go on. “My friends, it gives me such joy to introduce you all to my fine young nephew, who has miraculously returned to us. I hope you will welcome him with all the warmth that he deserves. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present Jacob Xavier Montague Charles Everton, the seventh Earl of Griffon!”

There was a collective gasp from the crowd as Jake stepped into view at the top of the red-carpeted marble staircase. The boy stood very straight, his chin high.

Everyone stared at him.

Waldrick eyed him sharply, pleased with the fashionable cut of his tuxedo, but frowning at a few of his blond hairs that were out of place.

Thankfully, Society did not seem to notice.

Jake bent slightly at the waist, presenting himself with a small bow to the entire ballroom, just like Waldrick had taught him. Then a roar of applause broke out as the lad started walking down the stairs.

Waldrick stole a furtive glance around, pleased, though he felt a twist of jealousy at all the cheers and simpering smiles the guests were now showering on his nephew. He listened to their comments.

“He is handsome, Mama!”

“Hush, child!”

“Good gracious, he looks just like his father!”

“The poor boy! How brave he is, after all he’s been through.” The older women shook their heads, making sympathetic noises.

“I say!” A gentleman here and there lifted a monocle to his eye. “You can see the lad’s got spirit.”

The young girls stood on tiptoe to get a better look at him. Waldrick waited patiently for his nephew to make his way through the crowd of guests congratulating him.

He overheard a few remarks in the crowd that he found especially gratifying. “How noble Waldrick is! A lesser man would have been angry to lose an earldom to a mere boy, but not Waldrick. So magnanimous.”

“He always was such a charitable soul. Such a great philanthropist…”

The praise cheered him up considerably.

Fionnula overheard it, too, and slipped her hand possessively into the crook of his elbow, as if to warn off any other ladies who might have admired him too much.

She needn’t have worried, though, if she was feeling jealous. Every woman in London knew that strange and terrible fates tended to befall any lady who tried to steal his affections away from the opera diva.

At last, Jake reached Waldrick and Fionnula, after being loaded up with well wishes and compliments from the adults and other highborn lads, and smitten gazes from the girls. Waldrick nodded to him in guarded approval.

So far, so good. But now came the hard part. It was the boy’s turn to give his little thank-you speech and then make a toast. Waldrick had written it for him, of course, but Jake had memorized the words. It was all carefully calculated, just like the rest of Waldrick’s life.

“Speech, speech!” he encouraged the lad with a broad smile, applauding his nephew politely.

Jake stepped up onto a chair so everyone could see him. Waldrick handed him a goblet of fruit punch and gave him a warning look.
You had better make me look good.

Fionnula sent him a smug nod that told him not to worry. The Oboedire spell would ensure the brat did exactly as he had been told.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jake began, holding up his glass a bit.

“Louder,” Waldrick instructed under his breath, disguising the command as a cough.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Jake repeated, projecting his voice so all could hear. “I thank you all for your kind welcome! And I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you! Before the dancing begins, I would just like to say a brief word of thanks to my dear uncle.”

Waldrick’s eyebrows shot upward in mock surprise, since it was he who had written the script.

Jake turned to him with all the guests looking on. “Truly, Uncle Waldrick, I must acknowledge the tremendous impact you’ve had on my life!” he shouted, loud enough for all of London to hear.

Waldrick had gone motionless. Those were not the exact words. Close, but slightly different. A faint prickle of alarm ran down his spine, but the guests seemed to approve. “What a thoughtful boy,” the older ladies clucked, smiling in approval.

“You don’t have to thank me, Jacob.” Waldrick knew his lines, but something told him to cut Jake’s speech short. “It’s quite all right. Now, then, to the dancing—”

“No, indeed, Uncle! I must express my gratitude! If only these good people knew how much time and effort you put into finding me. Nothing would stop you from searching for me once you realized I was alive!”

Waldrick was glancing around at his guests, smiling and nodding modestly, but a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. He glanced at Jake with daggers in his eyes.

Be. Quiet.

“But who could blame you?” Jake challenged him. “I was a loose thread you could hardly leave untied, after you went to all that trouble to
murder my parents
!” he thundered at the top of his lungs, then threw his drink in Waldrick’s face.

A horrified gasp arose from the crowd.

A few of the fair young ladies duly fainted.

Waldrick turned white, trembling with shocked rage as fruit punch dripped down his forehead. The hint of pineapple stung his eyes.

“It’s true!” Jake cried. “Just ask him! He tried to kill me, too! He sent men after me with knives! Look at his face! See the guilt?”

The ballroom was suddenly abuzz. Half the guests were stunned; the others were in shock, and none could believe their ears. “What, what is he talking about?”

“Did he really just say—?” the people asked each other.

From his taller position standing on the chair, Jake glared at Waldrick, ignoring everyone else. “Don’t bother lying, Uncle, I already know the truth. Sir George’s ghost appeared to me and told me everything! I know how you stole his appearance with the Dissembler’s Spell! You let him take the blame when it was you all along, you murderer! You killed your own brother! And my mum, as well! You’d have killed me, too, that day if my mother hadn’t handed me over to the water nymphs!”

“Oh, dear,” said Waldrick, whipping out his monogrammed handkerchief and dabbing at his face as he turned to his guests in chagrin. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m so embarrassed. I really must apologize for trying to deceive you. I thought it might be possible to hide my nephew’s, ah, nervous condition. But as you can see, he’s gone quite mad from everything he’s been through.”

Murmurs coursed through the crowd.

Waldrick shook his head in regret. “The poor boy’s wits are addled. Oh, I should have listened to his doctors! They said it was too soon to subject him to all this excitement. I should have let him rest longer, but I was so overjoyed to have him back and wanted to share that joy with all my friends. Jacob, step down from there. You’ve made quite enough of a scene in front of our friends. You need to rest. Now say goodnight and retire to your room.”

“I don’t have to do what you say anymore!” he shot back, laughing in his face and clearly enjoying this little stunt. “The spell is broken, gov! The game’s up!”

Jake turned back to the guests, his Cockney accent coming back out as his emotions rose and he forgot about his training as a gentleman. “He’s the one who’s mad, believe you me!” he told the crowd. “He turned me into a slave for a while, thanks to a spell from that witch of his! Look at the two of ‘em. They ain’t normal!”

“Waldrick!” Fionnula cried in alarm when Jake pointed at her.

“She’s not even a person,” he informed them, “but a horrible, wriggly
thing
!”

“Jacob, that is quite enough,” Waldrick said calmly. “Shout whatever wild things you like about me, but do not speak that way about my lady friend.”

“Lady? Beast is more like it! But whatever she is, you’re worse! You’re a monster!” Jake flung at him. “What kind of sinister bloke cuts the wings off an ‘elpless fairy?”

“Oh dear, oh dear.” Waldrick made a show of rubbing his forehead with a weary air of compassion. “Fairies, ghosts—here we go again. My friends, I beg your pardon for my nephew’s wild ravings. The poor boy has been through so much suffering in his young life. We think he must’ve seen his parents’ murder and the trauma of it all has taken a serious toll on his mind, as you can see. His doctors have assured me that all this should pass once he’s begun to feel safe in his new home. If not, he may need to go into an institution,” Waldrick said through gritted teeth. “In fact, I’m very sure he will.”

“Bollocks!”

The Society mammas gasped in horror at his free use of a curse word; another girl fainted.

Jake’s cheeks were flushed with fury, but at least he had the sense not to use his powers in front of everyone. “I ain’t mad, right! He’s the liar! Every word I’ve said just now is true, and he knows it!”