Page 33 of Whiskers and Wiles

All because she’d been hurting.

The situation felt entirely too familiar.

Lord Pollock’s question repeated in her head.What have you done?

“I sincerely hope you have a viable explanation for your actions, madam,” Waldorf hissed, turning toward her as if he were ready to do battle with her at last.

“I believed you were working against me,” Kat said, her voice dry and hoarse at first.

“Me? Working against you?” Waldorf stepped toward her in much the same confrontational way Lord Pollock had.

Instead of shrinking away and feeling the weight of her own guilt, Waldorf’s actions ignited old instincts to stand and fight within Kat.

“I did not know what you were about this evening,” she said, gaining strength, and with it, indignation. She gestured to the abandoned card table. “I did not know that you were using a silly card game to mask a greater mission.”

“What do you think happens in gaming rooms at a ball?” Waldorf demanded, as if she were the silly one.

“Men play cards,” Kat argued. “They gamble and win or lose great fortunes.”

She still very much felt as though she were on unstable ground and that her insides were filled with shards of broken glass, but arguing with Waldorf felt normal. It felt comfortable and familiar in a moment when everything around her seemed to be falling to pieces, so she kept at it.

“How was I supposed to know that important matters of the kingdom were being discussed and decided over Mad Eights?” she demanded, embracing her anger to keep the horror away.

“Whether you were informed or not,” Waldorf said, speaking as though the situation were as mad as the eights, “it was not any of your concern. You were not invited. You were not a part of this. You are not required to be a part of every discussion anyone has.”

“I had reason to believe you were being false with me,” Kat shouted, unable to stop her hands shaking as she did. Once again, her words felt all too familiar.

“What reason could you possibly have that would give you permission to destroy something that has been years in the making?” Waldorf growled at her.

Kat felt her body heat to the point where she might swoon at the same time as an icy chill spread across her skin. She began to sweat, and she had to stand with her leg against one of the chairs to keep herself from falling over.

“I received a missive,” she said, wishing she sounded more confident.

“A missive,” Waldorf repeated, somewhat mockingly. “Amissivecaused you to do this?”

“It was waiting for me when…when I returned to my rooms from Lady Thistlewhite’s supper. It was clearly a secret communication.”

“And what, pray tell, did this missive say?” Waldorf snapped.

“It said that the wolf was at the door.” Kat stood straighter and tilted her chin up. Recalling the message filled her with the certainty that she had been in the right when she chose to act. She may have proceeded without the correct amount of thought, but she still believed someone had been trying to warn her about Waldorf’s activities.

“What wolf was at which door?” Waldorf demanded, gesturing angrily toward the door of the gaming room.

One of the house’s servants stepped into the doorway at just that moment, looking as though she were there to clean up if the room was no longer in use. She reeled back as though she’d run into a solid wall, however, then quickly scurried along, eyes wide.

The momentary interruption shifted the feeling in the air just enough for Kat to take a step toward Waldorf, grasping for her courage once more.

“The message was a clear indicator that you were up to no good,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “It is code, acommunication amongst my fellows that a mission is on the verge of being compromised.”

“And you immediately assumed that I was the one attempting to compromise your mission?” Waldorf demanded, still incredulous.

“Who else could it be?” Kat asked the question as though there were no other answer. In fact, deep in the back of her mind, she was beginning to ask that same question herself. She went on, gesturing to Waldorf’s facial hair, and said, “Who else looks so wolfish? Your whiskers make you look like a wolf.”

“I am no wolf, I am a badger,” Waldorf growled.

The comment was so incongruous that Kat blinked and pulled back. “A what?”

Waldorf sighed and rubbed his hands over his temples. He turned from Kat and began to pace.

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