Spellbreaker (Spellbreaker Duology, #1)(48)

“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.