Spellmaker

Bacchus’s left hand lifted from her waist, leaving a chill in his wake. She heard it thud against the door frame, gripping it. Elsie’s fingers had journeyed into Bacchus wet hair, tangling with the waves. She nipped at his lower lip and heard the faintest sound escape his throat, though she sensed it more with her mouth than her ears.

His lips slowed, and he pulled back, his eyes dark. A long breath escaped his nose before he said, “We need to stop before you make me think unchristian thoughts, Elsie.”

She could feel her lips swelling. She licked them.

For the first time since learning of their surprise engagement, Elsie found herself greatly looking forward to her wedding night.

Footsteps on the stairs had Elsie stepping back, forgetting about her ankle and wincing when she put weight on it. Bacchus reached forward to steady her just as Emmeline popped up with a basket of linens on her hip. Elsie’s entire body warmed, but Emmeline—dear, sweet, innocent Emmeline—did not seem to notice anything amiss about Elsie and Bacchus standing so close together, neither nearly dressed enough for proper decency.

“Dinner will be ready in a couple hours.” She grinned and set the basket just inside her bedroom door. “Though I think Mr. Camden may arrive before that. He said he might finish early.”

It was still enormously strange to hear that name. “Oh! I’d completely forgotten Reggie was coming . . .” He would have updates about the newspaper articles. If he’d managed to get them published, he might even have some replies.

Emmeline pulled a long linen bandage from her apron pocket. “I’ll wrap your ankle for you and help you change.” She glanced at Bacchus. “I’m happy to take your laundry from you as well, Master Kelsey.”

Bacchus cleared his throat. “I’ll see to it myself, thank you.”

Avoiding Bacchus’s gaze because she knew she’d turn red as a beet if she didn’t, Elsie leaned on Emmeline and limped back into their shared room, where Emmeline snuggly wrapped her ankle. The dress Elsie had been wearing when Master Phillips—that was still hard to process—abducted her was ruined. A pity. Emmeline helped her into her Sunday gown, her best one. Fitting, since she’d obviously missed church yesterday.

But what to do about Master Phillips? Elsie’s and Ogden’s anonymous tips regarding Merton had gone nowhere. Would it be the same for him? Elsie had no proof save Bacchus’s eyewitness account. They might be able to explain the kidnapping—and the way Bacchus had turned up at the perfect place and time to save her—but it would be difficult to do so without admitting to their own loose relationship with the law. Then again, it wasn’t Master Phillips at all. He needed to be stopped, of course, but why should he have to suffer because Merton had chosen him as her pawn?

Reggie did indeed arrive early—Elsie had only just finished pinning her hair. Emmeline had also changed into her Sunday best and curled the strands of dark hair that framed her face, something that caught Elsie’s attention. No matter who the guest, Emmeline never bothered with the curling iron. Not for herself. Elsie was intrigued, but she’d wait for a more private moment to inquire about it.

“Got ’em all in,” Reggie said as he took a seat across from Elsie in the dining room. The meal had already been brought out, and Elsie’s stomach grumbled. She sat beside Bacchus, who was also fully dressed and dry, his hair pulled back into a half-hearted tail. Ogden sat at the head of the table, and Emmeline was across from Bacchus, next to Reggie. They needed only one more guest to have a full party. “Last one goes out in tomorrow’s Daily Telegraph, then they’re all set.”

Elsie breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Can you keep tabs on them?” Ogden asked as he carved the pheasant. “Find out if they get responses?”

Reggie worked his mouth. “I can ask, at least. Don’t hurt to ask.”

After helping serve everyone, Emmeline smoothed her skirt and asked, “Tell me how the printing presses work. Do the letters go in backward?”

“Indeed they do.” Reggie sat a little straighter in his chair. “They have to be set a certain way, like this—”

Ogden’s voice sounded in Elsie’s head, sending a shiver down her spine. Bacchus startled, so Elsie guessed he’d heard it, too.

Sure enough, a moment later, someone pounded on the front door.

They’d had two unexpected visitors of late: first the police come to arrest her, then Reggie . . . Did that mean this one had to be bad, to keep the pattern?

Emmeline moved to stand. Elsie held out a hand. “You’re talking, I’ll get it.”

Bacchus sighed. “They’ll be gone by the time you limp over there.” He stood from his chair.