Rebel Angels (Gemma Doyle #2)

Rebel Angels (Gemma Doyle #2) Page 99

"Gemma? Are you all right?" Ann asks.

"Don't you feel that?" I gasp.

"Feel what?" Felicity says, irritated.

"The magic. It's too much." I put my hands to my ears as if that will stop things. Ann and Felicity do not seem bothered at all. "Try to do something magical--make a grasshopper or a ruby." Felicity closes her eyes and holds out her palm. Something flickers there for a moment, but then it fades."Why couldn't I make it happen?"

"I don't know," I say. I can scarcely catch my breath. "You try, Ann."

Ann cups her hands together and concentrates. She's wishing for a diamond crown. I can feel her wish surging inside me. In a moment she stops trying."I don't understand," she says.

"It's as if all your magic is in me," I say, shivering."As if I have it threefold."

Felicity peeks over the top of the lip of the box. "They've left their seats! They'll be looking for us! We've got to go to them. Gemma, can you stand?"

My legs are like a new colt's. Felicity and Ann flank me, our hands locked. We fall in behind a man and his wife. He's having an affair with her sister. He plans to meet her tonight after the opera. His secrets rush through my veins, poisoning me.

"Oh," I gasp, shaking my head to rid myself of his thoughts.

"This is awful. I can hear and feel everything. I can't stop it.

How shall I get through this evening?"

Felicity guides me down the stairs. "We'll get you to the dressing room and tell your grandmother that you are indisposed. She'll take you home."

"But then I shall miss my evening with Simon!" I wail.

"Do you want Simon to see you like this?" Felicity whispers.

"N-no," I say, tears slipping down my cheeks.

"Come on, then."

Ann's humming softly. It's a nervous habit of hers, but it's soothing somehow, and if I listen only to her voice, I find I can walk and look reasonably fit.

When we reach the bottom of the stairs and the grand foyer, Tom's there, looking for me. Ann stops humming, and I'm assaulted by the din of everyone's secrets. Concentrate, Gemma. Turn them out. Choose one.

Ann. I feel her heart beating in rhythm with mine. She's imagining herself dancing in Tom's arms, him looking adoringly at her.

She wants it desperately, and I'm sorry I know it.

Here he comes, along with Lady Denby. And Simon. I lose the thread that is Ann. Everything's rushing in again. I'm in a panic. All I can think about is Simon, beautiful Simon in his white tie and black jacket, and me, undone by the magic. He's striding over. For a moment, his thoughts push their way in. Fleeting images. His mouth on my neck. His hand removing my glove.

My knees buckle. Felicity pulls me up sharply.

"Miss Doyle?" Simon asks quizzically.

"Miss Doyle is a bit indisposed," Felicity says to my great embarrassment.

"I am sorry to hear it," Lady Denby says. "We'll send for the carriage at once."

"If you think it best, Lady Denby," Grandmama says, disappointed to cut her evening short.

"Lady Denby, how very nice to see you!" It's Cecily Temple's mother, marching our way with Cecily at her side. Cecily's eyes go wide when she spies Ann.

"Good evening," she says. "Why, Miss Bradshaw. What a surprise to see you here. Why are you not back at Spence with Brigid and

the servants?"

"We are fortunate to have Miss Bradshaw with us for the holiday, as her great- uncle, the Duke of Chesterfield, was delayed in Russia," Felicity's mother informs her.

"Duke of Chesterfield?" Cecily repeats as if she hasn't heard quite right.

Mrs. Worthington recounts the tale of Ann's noble birth for Cecily and her mother. Cecily's mouth hangs open in astonishment, but cruelty corrects it, bending it into a malicious smile. Something cold and hard flows through me. It's Cecily's intention. She's going to do it. She's going to tell. Now Ann's alarm pummels me, mixing with Cecily's spite to make me woozy. Can't breathe. Need to think.

I hear Cecily's voice."Ann Bradshaw . . ."

My eyes flutter. Please stop.

"... is . . ."

Stop. Please.

". . . the most . . ."

Unable to bear it, I shout out, "Stop!"

A delicious relief fills me. There is utter and complete silence. No rush of thoughts. No crowd noises. No instruments being tuned. Nothing at all, actually. When I open my eyes, I see why. I've made everything stand still: the ladies gathering skirts, chattering. The gentlemen checking pocket watches. They are like the wax tableaus behind the giant glass windows of a department store. I had not intended for this to happen, but it has, and I must use it to our advantage. I must save Ann.