Spellbreaker (Spellbreaker Duology, #1)(46)

The duke interjected, “Just as I told you.”

The constable nodded. “You have excellent character witnesses, Mr. Kelsey.” He made a small gesture toward the duke and duchess. “If I have more questions, I will return. I recommend not leaving the country anytime soon.”

Bacchus relaxed, but only slightly. “I do not plan to.” Not until he had the spell he needed.

He wondered, briefly, if he’d be the one hospitalized had he won the auction.

“And your servant?”

“Rainer sleeps with the other servants in the household. There will be many witnesses to his presence here.”

The constable glanced at the duke. “Your Grace, if you would take me downstairs, so I might inquire?”

“Yes, of course.” The Duke of Kent crossed the room quickly, gesturing to the door behind the constable. “Right this way.” Then, in the hallway, likely to the butler, “No need, I’ll escort him myself.”

A long breath passed through Bacchus’s lips. He leaned back in the chair. “I take it the stolen goods have not been recovered.”

The duchess shook her head, distressed. “No. Oh, my dear, I hate it when my husband stays up late with his drink, but I am so glad he did it last night.”

Bacchus nodded. Isaiah Scott had made the offer upon noticing Bacchus’s distracted state. He’d been mulling over Elsie Camden—and her declaration of a second spell—ever since her dismissal.

“First Alma Digby goes missing, and now this.” The duchess dotted her eyes with the knuckle of her index finger. “Not to mention Baron Halsey and Viscount Byron! Oh, their poor wives . . . I think I’ll walk the gardens. Would you care to join me?”

Bacchus stood. “I might see how Rainer is faring, if that’s all right.”

“Yes, of course.” She waved him away.

Nodding his respects, Bacchus left the room, heading for the servants’ hall.

Less than half an hour later, the constable departed, having crossed Rainer’s name off his list.



Elsie could not seem to finish her latest novel reader. Sometimes the words blurred together. Sometimes her imagination floated to other things. Sometimes she pictured the baron as an Algarve man, and that threw off the imagery she’d worked up in her head for the tale.

Even here, sitting in a small chapel with the story tucked into a hymnal, she could not read. And so she listened to an unfamiliar preacher speak on pride, and occasionally turned to admire the stained-glass windows. She should be happy, now that things were back to normal. The last week had been nothing but normal. No sneaking off to Kent, no surreptitious notes from the Cowls. She might not hear from them for months. Even Ogden had finished up his work with the squire and was home more. Elsie liked having him home. Liked the subtle feeling of family that snuggled up against the walls of the stonemasonry shop.

And yet she was unsettled.

Ogden had taken them to Dulwich today. The church was small, but there was a spiritual aspector present regardless, one so young he had to be an intermediate magician, at best. He couldn’t even grow a beard yet, Elsie was sure. Then again, the baron in The Curse of the Ruby certainly didn’t have one.

At least she needn’t worry about unwanted blessing spells.

She shut her hymnal and set it on her knees. Ogden was tracing crooked stars on his leg. Emmeline looked ready to fall asleep, the quartz-tipped pin stuck through her collar.

Elsie pinched her, causing her to choke on a little gasp, then handed her the hymnal. Usually, Elsie gushed about the story to Emmeline at night, once their hair was unpinned and their dresses put away, but she simply couldn’t concentrate this week. Poor Emmeline had been pining to know what happened next. She couldn’t read terribly well, but she could read well enough. When she looked down at the sneaky novel reader, she smiled and turned back to its first page.

She’d gotten to page 7 by the time the sermon ended and the congregation filed out. There were a good deal of gentlemen and ladies present, wearing their ultrafine clothing, waving themselves with cloth fans, though it wasn’t even June yet. Ogden had found an old comrade or some such to chat with, and Emmeline remained perched on her seat, engrossed in the magazine, so Elsie pushed past all the well-to-dos, out into the early-afternoon sunlight.

Stretching her arms overhead, she started down the street, wanting to stretch her legs before being sausaged back into the cab. She heard chatter around her about a recent ball, a hunting party, and a vote for something. Oddly enough, Elsie didn’t want to hear the gossip today. And so she strolled to the edge of the street, where it opened onto a small park. She circled the park, admiring the trees, before heading back. Most likely, neither Ogden nor Emmeline had noticed her absence yet.

A plump woman on the other side of the road tripped on a raised cobblestone, spilling the stack of books, papers, and ledgers in her arms. Quickly crossing, Elsie hurried over to help.

“Oh, thank you, dear,” the woman said as Elsie handed her a parchment scrawled with diagrams.

Elsie paused. “Master Merton?”

Master Lily Merton glanced up. “Oh! What are the chances, us running into each other again! Only this time I’m the one tripping.”

Elsie handed her a ledger. “You should have a manservant with you to carry these things.”

“Oh, no, I can’t stand the sound of people while I work, even bustling servants. Emma, would you hand me that?” She pointed to a fallen pencil.