Page 44 of The Falconer

‘Is he . . . my God, is hedrunk?’ Gavin says.

‘On honey,’ I say distractedly.

‘Not drunk!’ Derrick hugs my neck. ‘I love you. Aileana, I love you. I love your dressing room. All of my things are in there. Beautiful things, nice things, things to mend, things to lie on.Thiiiings!’

Gavin does not look amused. ‘Would he mind removing himself from your person?’

I’m still reeling from the knowledge that Gavin can see faeries. ‘What? Why?’

‘When the dance ends,’ he says, squeezing my hand, ‘meet me in my study.’

I can’t. I promised Catherine I would stay and complete my dances. I promised my father I would behave properly and I can’t afford any more blasted gossip. Gavin will want answers I won’t be able to give. The pixie on my shoulder is the least of it.

‘No,’ I say, and shift my cheek so I can feel Derrick’s soft, comforting wings.

‘Please,’ Gavin says, ‘come when you can. Use the back entrance and go to my study. Leave the pixie.’

Chapter 16

Isneak out of the ballroom during the break for refreshments. Derrick remains perched on my shoulder as I descend the terrace steps into the garden. The night is moonless, and the garden is so scantly lit I almost trip over my feet. My slippers squish through wet, muddy grass. I wish, and not for the first time, that ladies would be permitted to wear sensible shoes to a ball and not these useless things.

I avoid a deep puddle as I approach the back entrance of the house. ‘Wait for me here,’ I tell Derrick.

‘Hmm,’ he says, plaiting a section of my hair. ‘I have a duty. Don’t I have a duty? This feels wrong.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I reassure him. ‘I shan’t be long.’ I’ll limit myself to ten minutes, just before the next dance starts. Surely a faery couldn’t find me that quickly if Derrick leaves me.

‘Well. All right, then.’

Derrick flies into one of the trees, his halo illuminating the branches around him.

I push the back door open and walk through the rear wing of the house towards the study before he can change his mind. When I reach the thick oak door, I take a breath before opening it.

Gavin looks over from where he’s sitting on a leather settee. A glass of amber liquid rests on the mahogany table next to him. ‘Come in.’

It’s a comfortable room. The carpet is so thick that my slippers whisper across it. I run my fingers along the detail of a tapestry hanging from the wall, tracing the stitched curves in the design of a thistle. I haven’t been in this room since Gavin’s father died.

The study is dimly lit, smelling vaguely of wood fire and cigars, the kind Gavin’s father used to smoke. The furniture is all glazed mahogany and red leather. Three painted-glass windows face the garden at the back of the room. Next to them, a bookcase rises to the ceiling, stuffed full of the old nature volumes Gavin’s father collected.

Gavin’s mussed blond hair is shining in the firelight from the hearth beside him. He has removed his waistcoat and gloves, and the topmost buttons of his shirt are undone.

I try to avoid outright staring. I’ve never seen him so . . . informal. It isn’t proper to be in such a state of undress with an unmarried gentlewoman. But then it isn’t proper for us to be alone, either.

‘I shouldn’t stay long,’ I say. ‘I need to be back for the next dance.’

He picks up his glass and downs the contents. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘it’s been a while since I last attended a society function, but I don’t recall ladies carrying around pet pixies.’

I’m once again startled by the reminder that he’s a Seer. I’ve never met one before. Derrick told me they were so rare, he believed them all to be dead. ‘He doesn’t accompany me all the time. Too unruly.’

Gavin stands, opens a wood-panelled cabinet to remove a decanter and pours himself another dram of whisky. ‘He has a loud voice for such a wee thing. Nearly deafened me.’

‘You thinkthatwas loud?’ I laugh. ‘Pray you never hear him at his worst.’

‘Well,’ Gavin drawls, ‘at least now I know what to do if that ever happens. I’ll throw a jar of honey and run like hell.’

‘I’ll have to try that next time.’ He appears to be taking this rather well. Then I notice his hands shake slightly as he sips his whisky. ‘Are you all right?’

Gavin downs his drink in a single, quick gulp and pours another. ‘The pixie startled me. I’ve never been that close to the fae before. I keep my distance from them.’ He tosses down another glass.

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