Spellbreaker

CHAPTER 14

Elsie gawked at him a long moment. Then she shoved him from the doorway, followed him outside, and closed the door behind her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a hard whisper. Her heart was beating too fast for it to be explained by the effort of pushing the door, and her blasted ears were heating again. She swept back a few curls in an attempt to hide the color.

“I need your help.” His voice sounded wary. He was well groomed, but there was a tiredness about his eyes and a tightness to his features, as though he hadn’t relaxed in days. He was close enough for her to smell wood, citrus, and mushroom.

She could faintly sense the spell beneath his clothes.

Releasing the door handle, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing that was not wrong before.” He grasped his hands behind his back. “But I need to know what the second spell is. It’s driving me mad.”

She nodded, slowly. It would drive her mad as well. “I might have to take off the temporal one first. They’re right on top of each other.”

“I know.” He glanced toward the heavy carriage outside the house. That wouldn’t draw attention at all. “Which is why I need you to meet with the aspector who placed it, so he can replace it after we’ve sorted this out. I dare not let too much time pass without it.”

Elsie opened her mouth. Closed it. Her stomach wound in knots. Jerking her head toward the back of the house, she tromped around the corner to wait for him. The moment Mr. Kelsey came into view, she said, “I can see two very large issues with that. First, the Temporal Atheneum is in Newcastle upon Tyne. That’s, what, eight, nine days away? I can’t just leave for a fortnight. Second, as previously discussed, I don’t have a ready chaperone.” And she wouldn’t get one. How much harder would it be to hide her spellbreaking abilities with an old matron following her every move?

“I can pay you.”

That perked her interest. “Well, that’s certainly a better offer than blackmail.”

He looked satisfactorily mortified. “Elsie—”

“Also, what am I to do, hide out in the brush with you to take off the spell? Then sit on my backside while you run in and get the spell replaced?”

He let out a long breath. “Master Pierrelo will not ask to see your registration. No one will. It’s in bad taste.”

Rolling her lips together, Elsie considered. “That does not move Newcastle upon Tyne closer to London.”

“No, but he’s visiting family in Ipswich.” He said each word carefully, his green eyes locked on hers. Goodness, he had remarkable eyelashes.

“Ipswich,” Elsie repeated, focusing. “That’s still a three-day journey.”

“We can do it in two.”

“I may not be gently bred, but I don’t think it’s a wise idea to be trapped in a carriage with a bachelor for two—no—four, days.”

He rolled his eyes. “You make it sound like a chore.”

Folding her arms, she countered, “Not that your dry disposition isn’t pleasing, Almost-Master Kelsey, but I do have a reputation.”

“We’ll take separate carriages.”

Elsie paused. That might work if he could arrange it, but—

“And how do I explain such a long absence to Mr. Ogden? No one in this house knows about me.”

“Tell him you’re visiting fam—” He stopped himself, but not before the suggestion stabbed her already sore heart. Today was destined to be terrible, she could feel it. “Do you have any distant relatives, friends, something to use as cover?”

“I used all my cover on Kent.”

Mr. Kelsey rubbed his beard, considering. “I will make something work.”

She dropped her arms. “And how will you do that?”

“Trust me.”

Two simple words, but they made Elsie pause. Trust me. Could she? Bacchus Kelsey had been a thorn in her side, but he had kept his word to her before. She owed him nothing now. He was pleading for help.

She wanted to give it.

She studied his face. The new lines of stress there. The nice set of his nose—

Oh, stop it.

“Very well.” The relief was notable on his features. “If you can make it happen, then I will go. But you’ll have to be very convincing. Now leave, before I have to explain why there’s a duke’s carriage outside the masonry shop.”

“Thank you, Elsie. Thank you.”

She waved a dismissive hand, and as directed, Mr. Kelsey departed. Elsie stayed behind the house until she heard the horses pull forward. Then she peeked around the corner and watched the carriage disappear down the road.

Four days with Bacchus—two there, two back. She quite liked the way her Christian name sounded on his lips, though she’d rather hear it in his native dialect. She tried to imagine how it would sound. Elsie. El-sie.

“Oh, hush,” she whispered to herself. Though there was no denying the pain in her chest had dissipated. Now it was time to wait and see what sort of plan an advanced physical aspector could hatch to steal her away.

She certainly hoped he was successful.

Ogden had a habit of making his shelves look like mayhem.

He placed things haphazardly when he put them away, sometimes on the shelf easiest to reach, sometimes on the highest one. She would have understood the habit better had he simply put things away in the most convenient spot, but the highest shelves were quite high. One had to try to stow something there. It made no sense. Elsie occasionally tried to talk to Ogden about his organizational habits, and he always nodded as if he were listening, but her encouragement made no difference. He still put his paint away in three different places, chisels here and there, and sometimes his lunch pail would even find a place near the floor. It was no wonder he struggled to remember where his tools were.

Retrieving a ladder, Elsie began her reorganization project by tackling the topmost shelves, pulling things down to sort them. It wouldn’t hurt to dust the entire wall; lint bits stuck under her fingernails.

It was as she stretched on her toes to grab a book from the shelf that the culprit walked in. “Elsie, I’ve just gotten the most interesting letter.”

She snatched the book and set it on a lower shelf, one she could reach from the ground. “And what is that?”

“There’s a new women’s school in Ipswich—”

Elsie tottered and grabbed the ladder to steady herself.

“—for accounting and secretarial training. I’m surprised they even know who I am, but they’re offering a week-long course for my employees for a rather inexpensive sum.”

Elsie cleared her throat of incredulity. “Really?” Clever, Bacchus. Dusting off her hands, she climbed down the ladder and crossed the room. Ogden handed her the letter.

“Accounting. I already know my figures.” She looked over the smooth penmanship. Had he written this himself? How many confidantes did he have? “Oh, but it’s advanced . . . hmmm. That is inexpensive. I could pay for it myself.”

Ogden stuck his hands on his hips the same way he did when a nice-looking man came around the studio. Always looking out for her, he was. “Are you interested?”

Elsie considered how best to play this. She hated lying to Ogden, but it was for a good purpose. Not like she was going off on a tryst.

“A week long?” She feigned consideration. If nothing else, the Cowls’ demands had taught her to be convincing. “But it would be useful, to help more with the books.”

“You’re already quite helpful with the books.” He took the letter back, examining it.

He was doubting, so Elsie added, “The squire’s work is done. If there were ever a time to go . . . perhaps I could see what it’s about, and if it’s good, we could send Emmeline for the next course.”

“You’d have to leave tomorrow to make this class.” He spoke half under his breath.

Elsie hesitated a moment before saying, “I . . . suppose I don’t need to go. I’ll stay. I have shelves to organize.”

She saw the sliver of guilt form between Ogden’s eyebrows. Frowning, he glanced at the shelves. “I’ll pay for half.”

Elsie smiled. “It’s settled, then.” She kissed Ogden on the cheek. “It will be an adventure.”

And she’d make sure Bacchus paid her back.

Elsie waited outside Brookley on a gray day for her ride. The sun had not quite come up, though even if it had, the gray-smeared sky would have hidden any of its cheeriness. It sprinkled ever so slightly, but not quite enough for an umbrella.

Not a pleasant portent, as such things went.

A large carriage drawn by four horses pulled up on the muddy road; Elsie stepped back to prevent mud from splashing her purple dress. It was one of her nicer dresses. Not that she had any particular reason for wearing it. The mud didn’t splash on anyone else, either, for Elsie had insisted on waiting on her own, using the weather as her excuse. Ogden had accepted it well enough, but she had the feeling Emmeline was eagerly peeking through the drapery upstairs.

At the same time she noted there was no second carriage, Bacchus Kelsey kicked open the carriage door, his hair hanging loose. “I couldn’t convince the duke to give me two.”

Her stomach erupted into moths that attacked her throat, seeking a way out. She supposed it wasn’t entirely improper—times were changing—but . . . well, what would she have to say about it, anyway? I’m sorry, I insist you ride on the roof for the sake of my reputation, which of course no one actually cares about.

Besides, it would be nice not to sit here alone the entire time. Mr. Kelsey could be pleasant when he wanted to be.

One of the servants—John, wasn’t it?—ran up to grab her valise. Picking up her skirts, she said, “I’ll be sure to keep the curtains drawn to prevent wagging tongues.”

She hid a smile when he stepped into the rain to help her to her seat.

They’d ridden for about ten minutes before Elsie’s thoughts needed voicing.

“Is there a lot of crime in Barbados?” she asked.

Bacchus, whose sun-kissed hair hung in tight waves over his shoulders, looked at her curiously. “Not much. Why?”

“Perhaps I’m getting better at eavesdropping or reading the news, but it seems a good deal is happening here.” She knit and unknit her fingers over her lap. “I ran into Master Merton again on Sunday.”

“Is she well?”

“Well enough. She was a bit frazzled. Quite a few opuses had been stolen or misplaced by some acolytes at the Spiritual Atheneum. They were dismissed, of course, and she was covering for one of them, I believe.”

Bacchus—Mr. Kelsey, that was—frowned. “Interesting.”

“Is it?”

He folded his arms over his broad chest. “There was a constable at the duke’s last week, asking questions about a Mr. Shaw, who recently won a copy of an opus at an auction. He, too, was robbed. Though he still has his life, unlike others.”

“That’s unfortunate,” she said. “Was he a friend of the family?”

“No. But I was seen talking to him, so I was a suspect.”

“You’ve been absolved?”

“Apparently so.”

She nodded slowly. Tugged on the curtain, hoping for more light. She got little. Rain pattered against the carriage roof.

“Will your man be all right out in this?”

“He insists he will be. He doesn’t like tight spaces.”

She smiled at that. “You went to this auction? For an opus, or something else?”

A soft growl came up Bacchus’s throat. “For the same opus that was stolen from him. It contained a master spell I wish to learn.”

“You’ve tested already?” Something in her abdomen squeezed. Master aspectors were eligible for titles. Upper class. Just like the rest of the toffs.

But he shook his head. “Not yet. I wish to advance with that spell in particular. Because I know you’ll ask, it’s an ambulation spell.”

“Ambulation?”

“It would allow me to move the objects around me without touching them.”

She blinked. “That’s . . . fascinating.” To think how much easier it would be to organize the shelves! She wouldn’t even need a ladder. But no amount of aspiring would ever grant Elsie such a spell—spellbreakers were unable to learn aspection.

“I’m sorry you lost,” she offered.

He shrugged. “It is something I’ll revisit after we meet with Master Pierrelo.”

She licked her lips. Glanced to the opposite window. “Are you sure he won’t ask after my certification?”

“Does anyone ask after Mr. Ogden’s?”

“Well, no . . .”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll ensure it.”

“Thank you.” She looked at him, the way he filled a good half of the carriage. “Why is your hair down?”

His eyebrow quirked. “Why are you concerned with my hair?”

She bristled, embarrassed, forcing her eyes away from the long, dark, sun-kissed waves. “Well, you certainly aren’t. It’s hardly fashionable.”

He snorted. “It’s annoying to wear back for long trips. I can’t rest my head against the wall.”

Elsie rested her head back to test the statement. Before her hair could get in the way, however, the back brim of her hat hit it. Yes, that would be aggravating for a trip of this length, wouldn’t it? Elsie hadn’t taken a multiday ride in a carriage since the workhouse had burned down.

She pulled the pin from her hat and removed it, setting it on the bench beside her. She rested back. It wasn’t too bad, but a hairpin jabbed her scalp. “I see what you mean.”

“Hmm.” Bacchus glanced out the window. They were passing by a squat little village with sad houses. Elsie wondered whose stewardship it was to maintain. “Thank you,” he added, “again, for agreeing to this.”

“The women’s school offer was quite clever. But I’ll need to have some sort of new math skill to show off when I return, if it’s to be believed. You also owe me five shillings.”

His lip rose into a half smile. “I’ll see what I can teach you, and you’ll be reimbursed. I’m also more than willing to cover your services, this time around.”

She smirked at that. “Also, you’re welcome.” She stretched out her legs as much as the cramped space would allow. “I admit I’m curious to know about the spell myself. You’ve really no idea what it could be?”

“None.” He sighed. “It’s kept me awake at night, trying to sort it out. If it’s beneath the temporal spell, then it happened in my youth, before . . .” He touched his chest.

“You have seemed tired.”

“I usually am. It’s a symptom.” His eyes took on a brooding look as he dropped his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I can be sorry if I want to be, Mr. Kelsey. It’s a nice change to have the upper hand, besides.”

His lip quirked again. “I suppose that’s what this is. I’m in your debt now.”

A tremor of guilt wound between her breasts. “I didn’t mean it that way. I . . . want to help you. Truly. I won’t even charge you for it.”

He glanced at her, his eyes almost the same color as the hedges outside. “You are a confusing woman, Miss Camden.”

She mulled that over. “I think if you leave off the part about trespassing, I’m rather easy to understand.”

He chuckled. “I’d have to agree.”

Content, Elsie rifled through her bag for her novel reader. There was just enough light to make out the words.

She finally managed to finish it.