Kat, Incorrigible by Stephanie Burgis

shoulder. “Where is your friend? Was she too afraid to come back, after last time?”
    “Lady Fotherington?” Mr. Gregson’s eyebrows rose above his spectacles. “Both Lady Fotherington and I thought it best that she remain in London for the moment. She was, of course, able to heal the physical damage you had done. You needn’t worry about her well-being.”
    “I didn’t,” I muttered. But I couldn’t stop a small pang of relief from shooting through me. The crunching noise I’d heard when I hit her nose had made me feel sick every time I’d remembered it, even though she had completely deserved it and I didn’t regret it at all.
    “Mm,” Mr. Gregson said, and coughed stiffly. “Regard-less, I—we—felt it would be better if I came alone to Grantham Abbey, as your first meeting together had not gone so, er, pleasantly as one might have hoped.”
    “This meeting won’t go pleasantly either,” I said. “Especially not if you’re planning to cast any more spells on me to let you steal Mama’s magic books.”
    Mr. Gregson winced. “Please, my dear. Guardians do not cast spells. Guardians work magic. It is quite a different matter.”
    I kept my fists raised in boxing position. “Regardless,” I said, “I didn’t see you stopping Lady Fotherington from attacking me last time.”
    “Lady Fotherington is sometimes a bit impetuous, but she has only the best interests of our Order at heart, and, of course, your own best interests as well, my dear. If you had never come back through the mirror, you could never have been taught the full extent of your own powers. Fortunately, I, knowing your mother rather better than Lady Fotherington ever did, knew perfectly well that there was no need to work any magic upon you to bring about what we all desired. Your own natural curiosity, much like Olivia’s—”
    “Never mind that,” I said. I didn’t want to think about what my curiosity had led me into … or how horribly, unforgivably predictable it had been. I knew that even my own sisters would have agreed with Mr. Gregson about that, which made it even worse. “I’m not joining any Order with Lady Fotherington in it,” I said. “Much less one that expelled my own mother. So if that’s all you’re here to talk about—”
    “You have no idea what you are dismissing so cavalierly!” Mr. Gregson took out his pocket handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “Really, Miss Katherine, I must ask you to be reasonable. You do not seem to have any notion of how fortunate you are even to have this opportunity! It is offered only to—”
    “‘Only one child in each generation of a family,’” I quoted. “I heard you last time.”
    “No,” Mr. Gregson said. “That is not what I said at all.”
    I lowered my fists, frowning. “Yes, you did. You said—”
    “Not every child who inherits the powers of a Guardian is offered the chance to join our Order.”
    I tried to raise just one eyebrow, like Angeline. They both came up together, so I had to settle for looking surprised instead of sardonic.
    Mr. Gregson fixed me with a firm look. “Your family hovers on the edge of respectability in Society’s eyes, and thus in the eyes of our Order. If they were but one step lower on the social scale—if your father had turned to trade rather than to the clergy; if your mother had married a merchant rather than a vicar—”
    “Wait a moment,” I said. “You said last time that my parents’ marriage was the whole reason Mama was exiled from your snobby Order. Didn’t you?”
    He looked uncomfortable. “Not … exactly. The point is—”
    “What could possibly have been wrong with Papa? He’s a clergyman. That’s the most respectable position there is!”
    “The Church,” said Mr. Gregson, “has never understood the necessity for any kind of magic, even the respectable and natural form that we practice.”
    “Hmm,” I said, and thought, Not that respectable, if you have to keep it a secret . He kept