Born Wicked

“You can confide in me,” I suggest. “We were like brother and sister, growing up, weren’t we?”

Paul’s mouth twists into a frown. “Is that how you think of me? As a brother?”

I don’t know what to say. I was still a child when he went away. I’ve thought about us marrying, but as a solution to the problem of my future, not as a romantic daydream. I have fond memories of the boy who chased me through the gardens, but the man who’s standing in front of me now with the beard and mustache is a stranger. We can’t simply pick up where we left off.

“I can assure you, Cate, I don’t think of you as a sister.” Paul stops walking. Runs a hand over his beard. Shuffles his feet. There’s a faint flush on his cheeks when he finally looks at me. “You’ve always known your own mind, and I won’t rush you. We have plenty of time to get reacquainted before December.”

December? That’s when I have to announce my betrothal. Is he implying—?

I stand there staring until Lily dawdles up to us, and then I give her such a glare that she scurries back, mumbling apologies.

“I’m sorry. That was forward of me, wasn’t it?” Paul gives me a rueful smile. “This isn’t—it’s not going according to plan. You said that bit about us being like siblings, and I couldn’t bear thinking—”

“You had a plan?” I give him an impish smile, brushing my hand against the tops of the Autumn Joy sedum. They’ve got rusty red heads like broccoli that stand out well against the backdrop of goldenrod.

“Fool that I am, yes. I planned out what I was going to say on the train.”

“On the train?” I gape at him. “Before you even saw me again? What if I was perfectly hideous? What if I’d got spots and a double chin?”

“You’d still be my Cate. And besides, you’re lovely. You look quite like your mother, you know.”

It’s the nicest compliment anyone could pay me. I suspect he knows it. My resemblance to Mother isn’t obvious, as it is with Maura; my hair has only the slightest hint of red and my eyes are Father’s. But sometimes I catch a hint of her sharp nose or the determined set of her shoulders in the looking glass.

“Thank you. That means a great deal. But what if—what if I’d turned into some mealymouthed miss with nothing to say but ‘Yes, sir’ and ‘How clever you are, sir,’ the kind who laughs at all your jokes?” Paul laughs at this, so long and so loudly that Lily looks over at us with alarm. I elbow him. “Hush!”

“Well, my jokes are good, but not as good as that. You could never be that kind of girl.” Paul tucks my arm into his and continues on through the gardens. For once, I’m immune to the heady scent of the roses, of the plot of blue monkshood overrun with weeds.

All I can think is that this is it: the moment that decides my future. It’s happening sooner than I expected. I’m not ready. I don’t know what Mother would want me to do.

“Don’t look so terrified. I don’t expect an answer now. I haven’t even asked the question yet.” Paul smiles.

“You’re mad.” But I’m relieved.

“And you’re even more fun than I’d remembered.” Am I? I don’t feel like much fun. Perhaps he’s attributed the change to my growing up, becoming a young lady. Perhaps this is how all girls feel, stifled and muted. “A life with you will never be dull, will it, and that’s just what I want. Think about it, Cate. That’s all I ask. Can you do that?”

“I suppose. Only—you didn’t say how long you were staying in Chatham. Will you be going back to New London soon?”

Paul comes to a halt right in front of our little fountain—a statue of Cupid, with water coming out of his bow. “I’ve only just gotten back. Are you trying to get rid of me? Is there someone else—another suitor?”

“No,” I blurt before I think. Aren’t girls meant to be coy and mysterious? Perhaps I ought to let him think that I have half a dozen men at my beck and call. But he’d find out soon enough that it wasn’t true.

“Ah.” Paul leans down, his warm breath tickling my neck, his voice a husky whisper. “Would you miss me if I went away again? Is that it?”

I step away, well aware of Lily’s eyes on us. “I asked if you were back for good, and you said we’d see. What does that mean?” My words come out sharper than I intend.

“It means I came back to see you. There are a lot of girls in New London, Cate, and I may have gone a little wild at first. May have called on a few of them, even fancied myself in love. But none of them were you. So after my apprenticeship ended, I decided to come home. What happens next— I suppose that depends on you. I know you were angry with me. Did you miss me at all? Even a little?”

I can’t help laughing at his mock pout. “Of course I missed you. But I—” My eyes fall to my feet, embarrassed. “Where do you mean to live? Here, or New London?”

“Ah. I see.” Paul shifts back into seriousness. “I’m afraid there’s not much business for an architect here in Chatham. Jones has offered me a position as his assistant. I’ve saved up a bit, and—if I were to marry, I could take a house in a decent part of town. I couldn’t imagine my Cate happy in a cramped little flat with no garden.”

My Cate.It’s both sweet and surprisingly possessive. How long has he been saving up to rent a house for us? How long has he entertained the notion of asking me to marry him? It feels like the time I fell off the pigpen fence, all the air knocked out of me. Paul sees my face. “I think you’d like the city, once you got used to it,” he says hopefully.

I look at the spiky yellow dahlias clustered around the base of the fountain. I’ve never wanted to live in the city. But if it were just me, perhaps I could get used to it. “My sisters. I couldn’t leave them.”

Paul cocks his head at me, clearly puzzled. “They could come visit us. They would always be welcome.”

He doesn’t understand. How could he? “Things are different now. Without Mother.”

I bolt, walking as fast as my skirts and stays will allow. If I can’t marry Paul, what will I do? Fear grips me. Perhaps Mother always expected me to marry and move away. Maybe my promise was meant to last only while Maura and Tess were young. Maura’s always insisting that they don’t need me the way they used to.

I wish I could believe that. Z. R.’s warning comes back to me.The three of you are in very great danger.But why? Does someone else know about our witchery?

Paul hurries after me. “I know this must seem very sudden, after I’ve been away so long. Just think about it. Please.”

I nod, blinking back tears. This is ridiculous. Now he’s going to think Iama delicate flower.

We wind through the garden toward the sound of hammering. Lily trails behind us, picking a bouquet for the kitchen table. On the hillside, Finn Belastra is kneeling in the skeleton of the gazebo, pounding the floorboards into place. He looks odd in his shirtsleeves, a hammer in his hand instead of a book.

“Is that Finn Belastra?” Paul asks. “The bookseller’s son?”

“Indeed. He’s our new gardener.” I raise my voice. “Mr. Belastra, the gazebo is coming along nicely!”