Spellmaker

He wishes to see me tonight. I do not expect you to rearrange your plans for this. I’m prepared to reschedule. I believe he will do as I wish; if the duchess’s letters are to be believed, Isaiah feels guilty for the part he has played in this. I am happy to provide transport—

Elsie grabbed the pencil and wrenched it out of Bacchus’s invisible hand. She felt the moment he let it go, and beneath his half-finished sentence, she wrote, Of course I’ll come, you lummox. You don’t need to beg me. What more important thing could I possibly have to do?

She set the pencil down and waited. A few seconds passed before it rose and tilted, nub pressing to the paper.

Lummox?

She chuckled. It’s a term of endearment.

The pencil jerked in her hand—Bacchus had started writing before she could set it down. Then you find me endearing.

He’d underlined the word. Something about the smooth stroke brought heat to her face. Taking the pencil, she touched its tip to the paper, ready to scrawl out a snarky response, but something held her back. Pulse quickening, she found herself glancing up at what he’d written earlier: Your presence will help me remain steady.

She reflected on their conversation in the carriage, before Bacchus had kissed her. With her free hand, she tentatively touched her lips.

He cares for you, she carefully admitted, keeping the thought far from the paper. It was still hard to believe, hard to swallow, hard to feel, but she wanted to feel it. She’d spent her whole life wanting to be wanted. To be . . . loved.

Biting on the inside of her lower lip, building her courage, she wrote, I do. And set the pencil down.

Several seconds passed before the enchantment took hold of it again. Perhaps I could see you sooner?

Warmth bloomed in her breast. She wrote, I would love a stroll in Hyde Park.

His reply, I can be there within an hour.

It would take her an hour to get there herself. I’ll find a cab in Brookley. Her hand shook a little on the letters, and she halfheartedly chided herself for letting her excitement get the better of her. She needed to talk to him about the newspapers—she’d been very roundabout when writing to him before, unsure if someone else might read it—but she didn’t want to ruin the mood by insinuating she merely wanted to talk shop.

Bacchus took the pencil from her grip and simply scrawled, Thank you, Elsie.

In her mind, Elsie replied, I love you, Bacchus, and it startled her hand from taking the pencil up again. Her pulse galloped; she pressed suddenly cool fingers to its rhythm. She stared at the green pencil, waiting for it to move—afraid that it would, terrified that it wouldn’t. But the conversation would continue only if she wrote something, and she didn’t dare pick up the pencil with that thought echoing so loudly within her skull.

She took a deep breath, then another, to calm herself before taking the paper and folding it carefully, stowing it away in her drawer for later reading. She replaced it with fresh parchment and gingerly lay the green pencil atop it. Antsy for distraction, she moved to the small mirror on her wall and tidied her hair, pinned on her hat, and readied her reticule before finding Ogden in the sitting room.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she started carefully—he had his sketchbook in hand and was staring at the sketch of a more youthful Lily Merton. “We don’t have a lot of orders ready . . . Bacchus was hoping I could go to London to take care of some . . . affairs. Regarding the Duke of Kent.” She’d mentioned the situation to Ogden last night after the attack.

He glanced up. “Of course. I should probably work on something, shouldn’t I? Income is a fairly important matter.”

Elsie smiled. “I can’t imagine why you aren’t jumping at the chance to finish the squire’s likeness.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind the free time.”

“Your purse might mind its lightness soon enough.” He set down the sketchbook. “You’ll return late?”

“I think so.”

He nodded. “Take care.”

Offering a wave, Elsie closed the door to a crack and forced herself not to skip down the stairs, opting for the back door and taking the shortcut into town. She went to the hotel, where she found a cab just dropping off its passengers. She hailed it, announced her destination, and hopped inside. The carriage pulled away as soon as the horses were watered.