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“I said ten minutes.” Gideon’s tone of voice was on the verge of downright rude, and Mr. Marley looked really alarmed. I expect I did too.
Charlotte shrugged her shoulders. “As you like,” she said, tossing her head and sweeping past. She did it very well. Mr. Marley dutifully followed her.
When the pair of them had disappeared into the front hall of the house, Gideon seemed to have forgotten what he wanted to say. He went on staring at the stupid house opposite and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as if it felt very tense. Finally we both took a deep breath at the same time. “How’s your arm?” I asked, and at the same moment Gideon asked, “Are you all right?” and that made us both grin.
“My arm is fine.” At last he looked at me. Oh, my God, those eyes! I instantly felt weak at the knees again, and I was glad that Mr. Marley wasn’t there with us anymore.
“Gwyneth, I’m terribly sorry about all this. I … I behaved very irresponsibly. You really didn’t deserve that.” He was looking so unhappy that I could hardly bear it. “I tried calling you on your mobile about a hundred times yesterday evening, but I couldn’t get through.”
I wondered whether to cut this short and fling myself straight into his arms. But Lesley had said I shouldn’t make it too easy for him. So I just raised my eyebrows and waited for more.
“I didn’t want to hurt you, please believe that,” he said, and he obviously meant it, his voice was so husky. “You looked so dreadfully sad and disappointed yesterday evening.”
o;And what’s your favorite food?”
The boys with the overhead projector looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. James himself frowned. “What sort of question is that? I have absolutely no appetite just now.”
“Never mind. That can wait till tomorrow too. Good-bye, James.”
“I’m Finley, you daft cow,” said one of the projector pushers, and the other grinned and said, “And my name’s Adam, but hey, I don’t mind! You’re welcome to call me James if you like.”
I ignored them both and linked arms with Lesley.
“What was all that about?” she asked on the way downstairs.
“When I meet James at that ball, I want to warn him against catching smallpox,” I explained. “He was only twenty-one. Too young to die, don’t you agree?”
“I’m not sure that you ought to meddle with that kind of thing,” said Lesley. “You know what I mean—fate, predestination, and so on.”
“But there must be some reason why he’s still haunting this building. Maybe I’m predestined to help him.”
“Why exactly do you have to go to this ball?” Lesley inquired.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Apparently Count Saint-Germain said I had to in those nutty Annals. So he can get to know me better, or something.”
Lesley raised her eyebrows. “Or something?”
I sighed. “Whatever. Anyway, the ball is held in September 1782, but James didn’t catch smallpox until 1783. If I can manage to warn him, he might be able to go into the country, for instance, when the epidemic breaks out. Or at least keep away from Lord Thingy’s house, where he caught it. Why are you grinning like that?”
“You’re going to say you come from the future, and you know he’s soon going to be infected with smallpox, and by way of proof, you’ll tell him the name of his favorite horse?”
“Er … well, I haven’t quite worked out all the details of the plan yet.”
“Vaccination would be better,” said Lesley, pushing the door to the school yard open. “But that wouldn’t be easy to fix either.”
“No. What is easy to fix these days?” I said, and groaned. “Oh, damn it!” Charlotte was standing beside the limousine waiting to take me to the Guardians’ HQ, where I went every day now. And that could mean only one thing: I was to undergo more torture by minuets, the right way to curtsey, and the date of the Siege of Gibraltar. Useful knowledge for someone going to a ball in 1782, or at least the Guardians thought so.
Oddly enough, that left me cold today, or almost. Maybe because I was too excited by the thought of my next meeting with Gideon.
Lesley narrowed her eyes. “Who’s that guy with Charlotte?” She was pointing to red-haired Mr. Marley, an Adept First Degree, whose main distinction along with that resounding title was an ability to blush all over his face and both ears. He was standing beside Charlotte, head hunched down.
I told Lesley who he was. “I think he’s scared of Charlotte,” I added. “But he still thinks she’s great.”
Charlotte had spotted us and was waving impatiently.
“At least they go wonderfully well together where their hair color is concerned,” said Lesley, hugging me. “Good luck. Remember what we were discussing. And go carefully. Oh, and please take a photo of that Mr. Giordano.”
“Giordano, just Giordano, if you please,” I said, imitating my dancing master’s nasal tone of voice. “See you this evening.”
