Spellmaker

Lowering the papers, Bacchus gave her a soft smile. “I am. In truth, it is fortunate I was there. I don’t think Merton, or whoever this attacker was, expected a second aspector to be in residence. He must have come upon her suddenly to avoid retaliation. She’d been stabbed three times . . .”

Elsie considered that. Bacchus had likely saved Master Hill’s life. That made one more opus that Merton didn’t have, and surely the attacker wouldn’t risk attacking a patient in a public hospital to finish the job. Not where there were so many witnesses . . .

Emmeline returned, and the conversation went silent under her watch. She set a silver tray on the table to Bacchus’s left and poured three cups, filling Ogden’s only half full with tea, then adding cream to bring the liquid up to the top. “Master Kelsey, how do you like your tea?”

A knock sounded downstairs.

“Oh.” Emmeline set down the cream. “I’ll answer that.”

“Thank you,” Ogden said.

Emmeline scurried from the room, wiping her hands on her apron as she went.

A moment passed before Bacchus said, “The vicar is available July 16.”

Elsie had forgotten the date they had discussed at the engagement dinner. “Oh. But . . . is Kent the right place?” She initially hadn’t wanted the ceremony in Brookley. The whole town might expect to be invited, and if she didn’t invite them, they might invite themselves. The last thing she wanted was the Wright sisters tittering over Bacchus.

But with the recent break from the Scotts . . .

His eyes turned downcast for a moment. “I also inquired of Mr. Harrison.”

Elsie nodded. Mr. Harrison was the vicar for Brookley. Nice enough man. And really, moving the ceremony to Brookley was the sensible thing to do, was it not? It would make things easier on Bacchus.

She rubbed her arms. “You’ve not heard from them.”

Ogden, clearing his throat, stood from his chair and moved to the window, peering down at the street below. It wasn’t the subtlest attempt to give them privacy, but Elsie appreciated it all the same.

“From the duchess, yes. I received her letter as I was leaving this morning.” Bacchus reached into his jacket and pulled out the folded missive. He handed it to her.

She glanced at his face, ensuring he did in fact want her to read it, before unfurling the message. It was rather long, the penmanship even finer than Bacchus’s. It was an apology interlaced with kind words regarding Bacchus . . . oh, and Elsie.

She really is a marvelous find. I only wish we could have resolved this in a better way. Please believe me when I say I had no idea, Bacchus. Isaiah didn’t want me or the children to know. He didn’t want us to worry. I’m not condoning his choice. Of course I want my husband to live a long life. Of course I want his health to be pristine.But I fear the cost has been too high. You are already greatly missed. All of our consciences are heavy over this, Isaiah’s especially.

Elsie folded the letter in her lap. “How are you?” she murmured.

Bacchus stretched his arm over the back of the couch, running a finger along one of the curls at the nape of Elsie’s neck as he did so. Shivers rained down her spine. “I believe her, of course.” He sighed. “It’s too much to sort out right now. I’ve not yet replied to her. I don’t know if I will. So perhaps Kent . . .”

When he trailed off, Elsie supplied, “I really don’t mind having it in the church here. It’s smaller. Fewer flowers, smaller bill.”

His lip quirked. “I don’t mind purchasing you flowers.”

“And what am I to do with them after?” She sat up straighter. “Who’s even going to see them? Besides, all eyes should be on the bride anyway.”

He tugged that curl again. “They will be.”

Her cheeks warmed. Goodness, July 16 was very close—only sixteen days away. To be married . . .

Elsie’s thoughts flew back to the conversation they’d had in the carriage, which naturally made her think of that kiss, and the warmth flooded into her ears. Bacchus must have noticed, because he chuckled softly beside her, and it took all of Elsie’s willpower not to swat him.

Emmeline returned, poking her head in. “Someone for you, Elsie. I don’t know who he is. He wouldn’t tell me his name.”

Elsie’s breath caught. “He’s not in uniform, is he?”

But Emmeline shook her head. “Normal-looking bloke if you ask me.”

Elsie exchanged a glance with Ogden. It couldn’t be the American, could it? Surely they wouldn’t be so lucky. Or unlucky, depending on his approach.