Millicent lowered her lashes, hiding the spark of interest in her eyes, and spoke as surly as she could. “What does he want now?”

“Just put these on,” snapped the were-bat, tossing a mound of golden silk at her. “And make it quick. It’s past my feeding time.”

Nell followed Millicent into the bedroom and helped her put on the clothing, a voluminous gown with long, puffed sleeves and multiple petticoats.

“Did ye notice they come for ye when our knight ain’t around?”

Millicent wondered when Gareth had become “their” knight. “I rather think he scared the duke at his last appearance.”

Nell snorted. “Per’aps. Or per’aps the duke has a plan that he don’t want Sir Gareth buggering up. Or per’aps—”

“Hush, Nell. We all agreed that we must find out what the duke is up to. I’m counting on his ego to brag about it over tea.”

“Still, I’m coming with ye.”

“Not unless the duke demands it. I need you here in case Ambrose returns.”

The old lady glanced at the bracelet on Millicent’s wrist. “Our knight won’t be out for hours.”

“I know, and it hardly matters. Since when do I need a man to protect me?”

Nell raised one red brow, but did not say another word as she followed Millicent out of the bedroom.

Selena narrowed her eyes. “You look suitably ridiculous. Like a rat with a silk bow around its neck. Come on.” She spun in a swell of black silk, toward a group of guards waiting just outside the door, then glanced over her shoulder at Nell. “The old woman stays here, of course, to insure your cooperation.”

“With what?” asked Millicent.

“Apparently you have received an invitation to take tea with Lady Yardley.”

* * *

Millicent sat across from the Duke of Ghoulston in his private coach once more, but this time they left London until the windows afforded a view of the English countryside. The light hurt her eyes, but she continued to squint at the vista of green spread over hill and meadow, the quaint cottages covered in roses, the grazing cows and rippling ponds. And an occasional touch of shimmering magic. Unicorns leaping over hedgerows, waterfalls that flowed upward into fountains of sparkling light, trees of rich purple shaped into umbrellas of shade. England was beautiful aboveground.

The duke sniffed and wriggled his bulk on the seat, rocking the coach even more than the pitted roads already managed to. He glanced at her with that secretive smile still plastered to his fleshy face.

Millicent scowled. “For the hundredth time, where are we going?”

He glanced out the window. “To Lady Yardley’s country estate. I suppose we shall be there soon enough. Here.” He handed her a gold box carved with delicate oriental flowers, their petals studded with precious gems that winked in the late-afternoon sunshine.

The box felt cool and heavy in her hands. It looked valuable enough to feed her and Nell for years. “What is this for?”

“You shall give it to Lady Yardley. It is a gift for the queen.”

“What’s in it?”

“Some tea. A rather unique blend of my own. You shall not mention that, of course.”

“Of course.” Millicent hid her smile of triumph. The man had been singularly reluctant to reveal anything about their outing up to this moment, and any information she could glean from him might help her understand his purposes. His nervousness made the hairs on the back of her neck tingle in alarm, telling her he had some serious evil in mind. “Why don’t you just give it to her yourself?”

“Ah.” Again he wriggled, the magically enhanced fabric of his coat changing color with his movements. “I have my reasons.” He kept wiping sweat off his upper lip, and his black eyes glittered with some inner excitement.

“So, you don’t want anyone to know the tea is a gift from you. Surely you could have used someone else for the ruse. Why me?”

His bushy brows rose in a mockery of innocence. “For some confounded reason, Lady Yardley has taken a liking to you. But more importantly, she trusts your naive facade. She will not think twice about your desire to give the queen a gift. It is something most new arrivals at court feel compelled to do. But this one will manage to reach her, since it will be delivered by her own Lady of the Bedchamber.”

Millicent looked down at the box in her hands, quickly threw back the lid, and inspected the contents. Black tea leaves. “What did you put in your special blend? I will not harm the queen for any reason.”

He sputtered. “Harm? The queen? Are you mad? Do you know what the penalty is for treason?”

His horror seemed genuine.

“I know you have some evil plan, Your Grace. I do not believe for a moment that you took me all the way from London just so I may deliver a harmless gift.”

He shrugged. “Either you give my box to Lady Yardley, or I finally indulge myself with an experiment on that were-firebird. I have an idea that her feathers may be used as the firing mechanism for an explosive device I’m working on. It’s a pity I must pluck them out, one by one.”

Millicent growled softy. There must be something in the tea, but she could not see nor smell anything abnormal about it. Not a whiff of magic. And the queen would have safeguards about her, preventing harm of any foreign magic to her person. Surely the queen had someone to taste her meals as well, so it would be foolish of the duke to put anything in it that might poison her.

“Oh, my dear Millicent. I see how your weak mind struggles to find answers to machinations beyond your scope of comprehension. Leave the thinking to me, were-cat. And just do your best to enjoy the outing.”

The road suddenly became smoother and Millicent glanced out the window, then tried not to gape. Lady Yardley’s country residence loomed into view down a long, tree-lined lane, and it looked more beautiful and elegant than Buckingham Palace. It did not need magic to enhance its magnificence, although Millicent did detect warding spells shimmering about the towers and parapets, giving it a rather dreamlike quality.

Her hand shook, shuffling the tea leaves in the box. What had the duke gotten her into? “I hope I do not manage to spill your gift onto the lawn. I can be rather clumsy in human form.”

She glanced up when he did not answer. The Duke of Ghoulston no longer sat across from her. Instead, some demon from one of her worst nightmares lounged against the upholstery. Pointed horns, gaping mouth revealing pointed fangs, red skin shimmering with oily moisture. It took all of her self-possession not to shift to panther.

But her immunity to magic allowed her to see past the illusion, to the duke’s rather smug face. She would not allow him to intimidate her.

“You forget your place, my dear.” He spoke with a voice that seemed to resonate from the depths of hell. Crimson saliva dripped from the corners of his black lips. “I have been a gentleman with you, but do not allow yourself to forget your predicament. Or Nell’s.”

His illusion wore no clothing, and when the duke wriggled again, he exposed the demon’s…

Bloody hell. It was as sharp and pointed as a dagger.

“You will care for that tea as if your life depended upon it.”

Millicent quickly slammed the lid closed.

The coach rocked to a stop, and although she knew he could not harm her with the illusion, and her immunity to magic allowed her to see the demon as only a hazy form surrounding the duke, she still breathed a sigh of relief when it vanished.

The coachman opened the door and lowered the steps, and the duke scrambled out, turning to extend a gentlemanly hand to Millicent. She ignored it, managed to gather her golden skirts about her without falling from the carriage. She recoiled in disgust when Ghoulston wrapped a shawl about her shoulders with familiar intimacy.

“Easy, were-cat. Lady Yardley believes you adore me—your dearest cousin.”

A liveried footman met them at the door, and Millicent stifled her growl and allowed herself to be led through the entryway of the castle, down a long hallway lined with ancient portraits. The pictures within the frames kept changing, as if the decorator had decided that too many frames would clutter the walls, but needed to display all of the castle’s inhabitants. She squinted to see past the illusion, strengthening her natural gift of immunity to magic to see her real surroundings. Millicent feared she would need all the advantage she could get.

She handled the golden box with extreme care.

They walked down another hallway, this one lined with busts resting on carved pillars. The statues would open their eyes as they passed, curiosity within the white orbs of their sockets, and some would smile. Others would wink. And still others would move their mouths as if they carried on a conversation.

Millicent shivered.

“Lady Yardley finds them amusing,” offered the footman, his steps slowing as they neared an open doorway. Millicent could hear subdued laughter and light chatter emanating from the room. She glanced at the duke’s expectant face, took a deep breath, and stepped past the threshold.

At first the withdrawing room appeared as a mass of golden color, with gilt on the paneled walls, the enormous fireplace, the backs of chairs, and bric-a-brac on the tables. Millicent blinked and managed to see the true nature of the room, although still magnificent even with its loss of gilding. Tables covered in white linen had been arranged about the room, with silver tea services on each one, and enough food for a feast. Sweetmeats and lobster and tiny little cakes covered in sparkling sugar, little sandwiches cut into stars and hearts, biscuits lathered in cream, scones of chocolate…