The Gentleman and the Thief (The Dread Penny Society #2) - Sarah M. Eden Page 0,4

rather have a diverting teammate or a helpful one?”

“The three of us could do well enough to at least pass the Spirit Trials,” Ace said. “Might as well have a lark doing it.”

“Even if it means not skipping to Form Two?” Bathwater asked.

If ghosts had actual hearts, Ace’s would’ve dropped a bit at that question. He wanted to be challenged at Higglebottom’s. But he’d not had much time for larks and absurdity in life. He meant to enjoy a hardy helping of both in the afterlife.

“If we don’t qualify to skip ahead early, we can make the most of our final term in Form One.”

“Rattlebag might advance us anyway,” Snout said. “Anything to get us out of his classes.”

“All the more reason to make certain the Spirit Trials are a highlight.”

“Are you aiming for more mischief?” Bathwater sounded worried. Though he enjoyed their mischief and joined in eagerly, he did worry a bit over it.

“You bet your afterlife, I am.”

Somewhere in the room something thudded, a common sound in a school full of ghosts learning to be proper haunters. But nothing had fallen or shifted or lay in a heap.

“What was that?” Bathwater asked.

“I don’t know, but I mean to find out.” Ace floated—a bit of showing off helped build a touch of confidence—to the noisy side of the room.

Nothing seemed amiss.

Then the bed skirt rustled. The wind wasn’t blowing outside the ancient school. No one in the room was practicing making a draft.

Ace knelt on the floor, careful not to slip through, and peered under the bed, directly into the eyes of a boy. But not just any boy.

A living one.

Ana Newport had attended very few Society gatherings in the past two years, and none away from Thurloe Collegiate School, where she was a teacher. She took a deep, reassuring breath as she waited to depart for a musicale.

“You needn’t be worried, Ana,” Elizabeth said. “You will play your violin beautifully and win the hearts of everyone there tonight.”

That was not at all the reason for her nervousness, but it was a reason she could admit to. “I haven’t played in public in years. And I’m hardly a regular on Society’s guest list.”

“Well, you’re on this one,” Elizabeth said.

At first, Ana had refused Elizabeth’s suggestion that she attend. Society had not been kind when her family’s fortunes had turned. That made her wary. But Elizabeth had let slip that Mrs. Sudworth would be in attendance, and there was no question of refusing after that. Ana needed to be there if that terrible, horrid, wretched woman was.

A knock sounded at the door. Elizabeth hadn’t moved far from the door in the past fifteen minutes, waiting for the gentlemen who were accompanying them that night.

A moment later, the men stepped inside. Fletcher Walker was a well-known author of penny dreadfuls, who had managed to gain something of a foothold in Society despite having spent his early life in the gutters. His close friend, Hollis Darby, came from an “old money” family. They’d been part of the upper crust for generations, and he was precisely the sort of refined and intimidating gentleman she’d been in awe of when she had still been part of that world, young and starry-eyed and naive.

Mr. Walker pulled Elizabeth into an embrace the moment the door was closed behind him. “I’ve missed you, dove.”

“If you came by more often, you wouldn’t have to miss me.” Elizabeth threaded her fingers through his but addressed both of the gentlemen. “Shall we be on our way?”

Before Ana could take more than one step toward the door, however, Mr. Darby held out his hand. “Please, allow me to carry your violin. I promise to be very careful with it.”

He was always the perfect gentleman. How well she remembered the strict propriety of those of his standing. She remembered nearly as well how hypocritical that often proved.

“I know it ain’t proper,” Mr. Walker said to the group as they approached the waiting hackney, “but I’d much prefer to sit with Elizabeth.” He eyed Ana and Mr. Darby with an undeniably charming bit of pleading. “Have a heart? Do a bloke a favor?”

“I will not impose upon Miss Newport,” Mr. Darby said. “And neither should you, no matter your wish for a bit of sparking.”

“If they are going to be sparking, I don’t know that I want them in the same carriage regardless of where they’re sitting,” Ana said.

Mr. Darby smiled at her humor. No matter that he occupied an elevated rung on