The Highland Dragon's Lady by Isabel Cooper Page A

lie as still as you can,” he said, “and drink this if the pain is bad.”
    Calmed by sentiment or laudanum, or both, Mrs. Osbourne closed her eyes again. Activity went on—and left Colin standing in the corner of the room, a glass of brandy in his hand.
    Reggie drifted to his side, her elaborate hairdo collapsed into a straggling fall down her neck, her satin gown crumpled and ripped at the hem, and her dark eyes half-glazed. She held a cup of tea, and the fingers of one glove showed that she hadn’t entirely been holding it steady.
    “Be a gentleman and trade, will you?” she asked, after a quick glance around. “Mrs. Kelly doesn’t approve of spirits for women unless we’ve fainted in the last minute or two.”
    “Mrs. Kelly?” he asked, passing over his glass but waving off the offered tea.
    Reggie gulped brandy and handed the glass back. “Housekeeper. She brought in the, er, refreshments.”
    “Ah,” said Colin. “Old-fashioned sort?”
    “Very. And I don’t feel like an argument tonight.”
    “I’d rather think not,” said Colin. “How are you faring?”
    “Bloody useless, just now,” said Reggie, looking back over her shoulder. “Nothing like a disaster for showing the value of a classical education, what?”
    “I was thinking something of the sort myself,” Colin replied. “About me, that was, not you.”
    “ Your education,” she said, with another look around to make sure nobody else was in earshot, “might be helpful here, at least in the long term.”
    “Only so helpful. I haven’t generally had much to do with ghosts. We have a few back home, but they just appear”—Colin held a hand out and then flipped it over—“and then disappear again. No phantom wasps. No flung tables. And magic, as such, hasn’t had a great deal to do with them, either.”
    “Really?” Reggie put her free hand on one shapely hip and peered up at him. “How can ghosts not have much to do with magic?”
    “Easily enough. Magic involves finding secret rules to this world, often rules that break the ones we already know. Sometimes it involves creatures or forces from other worlds that don’t have the same rules, but all of them are alive—for some value of life. Ghosts aren’t. By definition, rather. You can use magic to talk with them, but it’s a chancy business.”
    “Then what about séances? What would you call them?” Reggie asked. Her eyes were brighter now, more alert.
    “A radical new development. It might be magical. It might be scientific. There might not be much difference. We’re finding out new things every day. You said as much at dinner.”
    Dinner seemed like a year ago to Colin, and Reggie clearly felt the same. She had to pause and blink several times before she smiled uncertainly. “Oh—so I did. Never thought of mediums as the frontier of knowledge before.”
    “Some aren’t. Most, I’d say,” said Colin. “Like most magicians. But there are more and more of the genuine article these days. That’s one of the reasons why I wanted to be present tonight.”
    “I’m glad you were,” said Reggie, and before he could ascribe any meaning to that, she added, “and so should Mrs. Osbourne be, though of course I won’t tell her. You caught that table, didn’t you?”
    “Not fast enough,” said Colin, “or with enough force.”
    “You’re not blaming yourself, are you?” Reggie’s eyes widened and she stepped toward him. “Listen, there’s not a man in the world—”
    Normally, he wouldn’t have disillusioned a woman who was about to offer comfort and praise. This was different—or maybe Reggie was, because she knew more. Either way, he couldn’t help speaking. “That’s what’s worrying me. And I’m not blaming myself.” It was Colin’s turn to look around for witnesses. The room was safe, though it wouldn’t be soon. Edmund and the doctor would be arriving any minute, if the heavy footsteps in the hall meant anything. “If any single man had thrown