Page 29 of The Falconer

Catherine removes her shawl and settles on the settee across from me, smoothing her skirts. ‘Princes Street is a complete disaster. Do you know half of North Bridge was destroyed?’

I wince. I had been hoping to escape all reminders of my destruction last night, but I suppose I should at least look surprised. ‘How awful!’ I reply. ‘What on earth could have happened?’

She takes a sip of her tea. ‘Apparently there was an explosion late last night, though what caused it remains a mystery. The force has been called in to investigate and inspect the damages.’

I freeze. I didn’t even think to consider who might have been hurt as a result of my actions. ‘Please tell me no one was injured.’ I can barely say it.

‘No one, thank God.’ Catherine leans forward and takes my hand. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to distress you.’

I exhale in relief and give her a feeble smile. ‘Thank you. Do continue.’

‘There’s not much more to tell. Everything between south Princes Street and Waterloo Place has been cordoned off.’ She cringes. ‘Traffic was so terrible, I nearly got out of the carriage and walked. I would have made it here faster if I had a blasted ornithopter.’

I nod. I’m one of the few individuals fortunate enough to own a flying machine. Though I built my own, it is an invention reserved for only the wealthiest families in Edinburgh. Only a few engineers in the country are qualified to manufacture them.

‘I assume your mother responded in a panic, or else you wouldn’t have slipped out of the house without an escort.’

Catherine nods calmly. ‘She tried to use this as an excuse for me not to come to luncheon. Naturally.’

‘Naturally.’

‘And when that didn’t work, she brought up what happened to Lord Hepburn.’ She eyes me and sips her tea.

Oh dear. I had forgotten about poor Lord Hepburn. I do hope he’s recovered from those nasty injuries without too much difficulty. ‘What about him?’

‘Have you not heard? The poor man was attacked during the assembly.’

I feign shock. ‘Attacked? What do you mean?’

‘Whoever it was cut up Lord Hepburn’s chest, although he was found with stitcher sutures. Isn’t that strange? As if his attacker changed his mind.’

I widen my eyes to appear as innocent as possible. ‘My word! Does he remember anything?’

Such as an insane woman who fought off an invisible attacker and then stitched him up and left him on his bed? Does he remember that?

‘No,’ Catherine says. ‘Inconveniently not.’

‘Well.’Good. ‘I hope they find the vile person responsible. Just think: the attacker might have been another guest at the ball. Can you imagine?’

Catherine sighs and plunks down her cup and saucer. Tea sloshes onto the tablecloth. ‘For heaven’s sake, I think I’m going mad.’ She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes briefly. ‘I can’t believe I’m about to ask you this.’

‘Ask me what?’

When she looks up again, her eyes are bright with unshed tears. ‘Was it you?’

I almost can’t breathe, my chest aches so much. ‘Me?’ The word comes out in a croak. ‘Why would you ask such a thing?’

‘Blast it all, but I think the rumours are finally starting to influence me.’ She hesitates, as though she’s thinking very carefully about what she’ll ask next. Deliberately, she says, ‘I saw you in that hallway. You asked me to hold your reticule. You missed five dances and returned to the ballroom looking frightfully unkempt. What am I supposed to think?’

Our friendship has been steadfast since infancy. It was my only solace while I was in mourning, and is the only comforting relationship I have left. Despite that, I don’t think I can ever stop lying to Catherine. I know she’ll never understand how far I’ve gone from the person she believes I am, but I never once thought she doubted me.

‘Do you think I killed her, too, then?’ I ask quietly. ‘My mother?’

‘No!’ She looks horrified. ‘My God, I wouldneverthink that.’

‘Then you must know that I would never have hurt Lord Hepburn.’

Catherine studies me. ‘But you know who did. Don’t you?’

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