Page 77 of The Tartan Trap

“Ridiculous,” Rachel said primly. “Everyone had a wonderful time.”

Margaret rolled her eyes again.

“Now be quiet or they’ll hear you and it will ruin the entire experiment.”

Margaret sighed, the sheet fluttering in front of her lips, but she did as she was told.

For several minutes, there was no sound but the ticking of the ormolu clocks on the mantles and the rhythmic rasp of the horsehair brush against the hearth tiles. Margaret shifted from foot to foot periodically, her mind wandering.

“I do believe that the first phase of our experiment is complete.” The ghost next to Margaret nodded her head stoutly. “It’s time for the second phase.”

“The second phase?” Margaret said, alarmed. “What on earth do you mean, the second phase?”

Rachel simply grasped her arm and tugged her back out into the hall. “We must see if our displacement of reality also works with those who are closer to us.”

“My sisters are not at home.”

“What about your brother?”

“He’s in his study and shouldn’t like to be disturbed.”

“We won’t disturb him—he won’t even know we’re there.” She strode down the hallway with Margaret hurrying to keep up.

Thankfully, the door to William’s study was standing wide open, or Margaret never would have had the courage to enter without knocking. Despite her misgivings, Margaret crept in first, then froze in the doorway when she saw that William wasn’t alone.

A very handsome gentleman with broad shoulders and dark hair sat in one of the chairs facing the desk. Margaret recognized him as Lord Shaw, who’d visited Lily once very early in the Season but never returned.

Rachel jabbed Margaret in the back until she had little choice but to step forward, her sheet fluttering. Surprisingly, neither Lord Shaw nor William glanced their direction. Margaret shuffled slowly to the back of the room near the fireplace, her eyes wide. Rachel followed.

“I care deeply for both the enterprise itself and the people involved,” William was saying. “I’ll not bring anyone on board who isn’t as committed as I am to both.”

“I understand completely. Though my holdings aren’t nearly as impressive as yours, I feel a great responsibility for them.”

William arched a brow. “If we’re to work together, you must know I’m so suspicious of flattery that it often has quite the opposite effect as intended.”

“I’ll make a note of it.” Lord Shaw nodded.

William snapped a pile of parchment against his desktop, putting it in line. “I’ll do my due diligence on your references. You may expect to hear something within the month.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” Lord Shaw stood, buttoned his jacket, and gave a nod before heading to the door.

Margaret and Rachel still stood in full view upon the rug. The room was comfortably sized, but not exceedingly large. William preferred to keep his personal spaces rather bare—Margaret suspected it was some residual habit from spending so much time aboard a ship where space was at a premium. She thought William had simply grown tired of too much furniture in too small a room, and his current taste was the pendulum swinging the opposite direction.

In any case, there was no discernable reason why her brother hadn’t addressed them yet. Margaret thought he would have after Lord Shaw left. Instead, he stood from his desk, pulled a ledger off his bookcase, and set to work.

Margaret and Rachel stood very still, only turning their heads to look at each other once in a while as if to confirm that the other saw what was happening. Perhaps a quarter hour passed with no other sounds but the scratching of a pen, the turning of pages, and the interminable tick of the clock on the mantel behind them.

“I think it’s working,” Rachel finally whispered.

Margaret blinked. She hadn’t thought such a thing possible, but maybe Rachel was right. After all, an idea couldn’t be too ridiculous if it was being discussed at the Royal Institution. Still, the entire theory depended upon someone truly believing something, and Margaret hadn’t believed that she was invisible, not for a single moment.

“How long do you think we have to remain here to prove the theory?” Margaret whispered. Her stomach rumbled; she could smell the faint, delicious aroma of some baked good from the kitchens.

“I think that a half an hour should suffice,” Rachel murmured.

Beneath her sheet, Margaret grimaced.

“What on earth are you ladies doing?” William said, not raising his head from his ledger.