‘He stole you away from this very house!’ her father bellowed. ‘Unchaperoned! Anything could have happened!’
‘But nothing did happen—’
‘You mean to tell me—’ His voice had darkened. He was an ocean storm gathering on the horizon. ‘That my daughter, my angel, went with him willingly?’
Her cheeks flamed. ‘I . . . Father . . .’
‘Did my daughter,’ he continued, speaking as if every word were a strain, ‘sneak out of my house in the middle of the night, alone, with the court joker, and attend a gathering of strangers and ruffians and who knows what sorts of creatures?’
Her ribs collapsed inward, pushing the air from her lungs. How many of her secrets had Mary Ann told?
This was her last chance, she knew. To deny it all. To blame Jest for everything, to pass the consequences on to his shoulders. To maintain her parents’ perception of her forever.
She swallowed down the knowledge of how easy it would be.
And how impossible.
No, she could not betray him.
She squeezed her fists and opened her mouth, but it was a deeper voice that spoke.
‘No.’
They all spun to Jest. His chin was high, but his eyes downcast. He didn’t look at Cath, or her parents, or the King. ‘She did not come with me willingly, though she might think it.’
Her pulse sputtered. ‘Jest!’
The chattering insects had silenced, and for a moment there was only the burble of the creek behind them. Jest looked up and met her stunned expression with something dark and determined. ‘I used a charm to persuade her to come with me. It was a trick.’
‘He’s lying. That isn’t—’
‘Lady Pinkerton is innocent. She is not at fault for anything that’s happened.’
The Marchioness wilted with relief and gratitude, her faith in all the world restored.
‘But, why?’ stammered the King, his voice a squeak in the darkness. Cath could never recall seeing him so distraught, so unhappy, and the look of betrayal gave her a sharp sting of guilt. ‘Why would you do it, Jest?’
Jest fixed his eyes on the King, expressionless. ‘My loyalty belongs to the White King and Queen of Chess. I was sent to steal the heart of your queen and bring it back. I have been trying to woo her, so that her heart would be mine to take once you were married.’
The King stumbled back, a hand over his chest as if Jest had stabbed him. ‘How could you do such a thing to Lady Pinkerton?’
Cath tensed. ‘Jest. Don’t—’
‘Hold your tongue, daughter of mine.’ Her father’s firm hand landed on her shoulder. ‘It’s clear that he still has you under some enchantment.’
Jest’s gaze skipped to her. ‘It’s true. I have been using every skill at my disposal to mesmerize her.’
Goosebumps swept across her skin.
He had her heart, and she had his. Nothing could change that.
Nothing . . .
But he was making himself a villain. To her parents. To the King. To all of Hearts.
And what for? To save a reputation she cared less for by the minute?
Her mother nodded. ‘You see? He’s confessed his crimes, with us all here to witness it. What fortune that we discovered this now, before it could go any further. Thank heavens Mary Ann came to her senses and thought to ask for help.’
Catherine’s insides writhed. Her eyes began to well with tears, but she blinked them back and turned to look at Mary Ann again. Her lifelong friend stood beneath a copse of trees, looking stricken and so very, very sorry.
A hard knot of anger tightened in the base of Catherine’s stomach.
Following the look, her mother waved her hand at the maids. ‘Abigail, Mary Ann, go back to the house and draw a warm bath for Catherine. She’s been through quite an ordeal tonight.’
They dropped into fast curtsies.
‘I’m so glad you’re all right, Ca—Lady Catherine,’ Mary Ann said, her voice barely a breath before she followed Abigail towards the house.
Cath’s anger twitched and grew. She was not right at all.
‘I trust this criminal will be taken to a prison cell?’ said the Marquess.
‘He had better!’ said the Marchioness. Some of her spittle landed on Jest’s cheek, but he barely twitched. ‘For the safety of our daughter! I don’t want him to be able to ensorcell anyone but prison rats from this day forward!’
‘O-o-of course!’ stammered the King, forcing himself into their circle. He was wringing his hands, and Cath could see he was desperate to have this whole situation behind him. ‘I cannot begin to convey my remorse for . . . for all that’s happened.’ His eyebrows bunched in the middle of his brow as he gestured towards Jest. ‘He just seemed so trustworthy.’
Cath sneered. ‘You are all idiots.’
‘Catherine!’ her mother snapped.
The Marquess placed an arm around his wife’s shoulders. ‘Now, now, dearest. She’s not herself, can’t you see?’
Catherine crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Then who do you think I am?’
‘Er, well.’ The King cleared his throat, changing the subject. ‘The Joker will be, er, dealt with.’ He tugged his collar away from his throat. ‘And then we shall forget any of this unpleasantness ever happened!’
Cath turned to Jest. He held the look, and there was something insistent in his gaze. Maybe he was telling her this was all for the best, but she refused to believe it.
Suddenly, the King started clapping, an impulsive, anxious sound. ‘Ah yes – that’s what we’ll do! Let’s have a party!’