Spellbreaker (Spellbreaker Duology, #1)(79)

Seven Oaks was the Duke of Kent’s estate. And the only master there was . . .

The Cowls’ next target was Bacchus Kelsey. The duke must have owned another’s opus. That had been the first target. But now . . .

“Oh God,” she muttered, dropping the letter. “Oh God, oh God.”

Nash had been in a hurry. Night was falling. Perhaps he was heading to Kent even now, as Elsie rifled through his things.

Not Bacchus. Not Bacchus.

She flew down the stairs and unbolted the door, too anxious to care if she was seen. But she made it only a few steps before turning back. She’d forgotten her valise and didn’t want to leave anything connecting her to Nash. Snatching it, she hurried to a busy street and nearly got herself run over trying to flag down a carriage that had no intention of stopping. But she stepped right in front of the next cab, forcing the driver to stop or run her over.

“Are you mad?” The man had long gray sideburns poking from beneath his hat, and his two black horses stamped nervously.

“Where are you going?” Elsie did sound mad, but she didn’t care. She even grabbed the reins so the driver could not leave her.

The man sputtered. “What’s it to you? I’ve passengers heading for the train.”

“They’re close enough! Let them out here and take me to Seven Oaks. I’ll pay you three times your asking price.”

He paused, considering.

“Now, man!” Elsie cried.

The driver jumped from his seat, and though his passengers had likely heard the entire exchange, opened their door and said, “Way’s too crowded, but the station’s just ahead! Out you go!” He grabbed their luggage and practically chucked it onto the cobblestone. The passengers—two women and a man—gawked, and one of the women complained in an accent Elsie couldn’t place. But to her relief, they got out, and she got in.

“As fast as you can go,” she pleaded, pulling her gloves off her sweating hands. “Please. It is a matter of life and death.”

“Duel?” the driver guessed, but he didn’t wait for an answer. Returning to his seat, he whipped his horses forward.

Elsie could only pray she wouldn’t be too late.



“Well, it was quite a scare, nevertheless.” Master Lily Merton raised her spoon to her lips. She sucked the white soup down, dabbed her mouth with a napkin, and added, “I would have so hated to see our dear Miss Ida join our ranks out of necessity. A career of any sort is much more enjoyable when chosen through passion.”

It was unsurprising that the Duke of Kent’s health was the primary subject of conversation for the first course of dinner—the first meal the duke had been able to take with the entire family in a while. Bacchus couldn’t have been more relieved to see him well. The temporal aspector’s spell had taken well enough, and the duke had gradually regained his strength. Master Merton of the London Spiritual Atheneum was an unsurprising addition to their dinner. She had nearly cemented herself into Ida Scott’s future. Indeed, in the past week, Miss Ida had practically assaulted Bacchus with question after question regarding aspecting, until he’d given her a gentle reminder that physical aspectors studied different subject matter than spiritual, and so her experiences would greatly differ from his.

“I wouldn’t say necessity,” chimed the duchess. “Do not mistake me, I love my husband”—she passed a tender look to Isaiah, who had finally gotten his color back—“but we would not fall into shambles upon his passing. I may not have a son, but our nephew is kindhearted and well meaning, and there are sufficient funds set aside beyond that.”

The duke raised his glass. “Though I have decided I would like to see Ida utilize her talents.”

Bacchus couldn’t tell who beamed more: Miss Ida or Master Merton.

“Bacchus,” the duchess said, perhaps to steer talk away from her husband’s near demise. It had troubled her greatly, and even now, with the duke’s recovery, she worried he’d relapse. They all did. “Are you sure you won’t stay with us a while longer? I’m sure Ida, at the very least, could learn from you.”

“Master Merton would likely do a better job of teaching her.” Bacchus stirred his soup. He’d had an appetite, but it seemed to have been scared off by the duchess’s inquiry. And of his future trip in general. He craved home, with its familiar faces, privacy, and balmy weather. And yet something about the plans made him feel uneasy.

The uneasiness made him think of Elsie.

“Our alignments are very different.” He swallowed back the thoughts. “And I’ve lands to manage back home.”

Which was true, though he had full confidence in his manager. And the voyage was no quick journey, as it took three weeks to cross the Atlantic to Barbados.

“When do you leave, Master Kelsey?” asked Master Merton.

“Within the week.” He finally lifted his spoon to his mouth.

“It must be very beautiful.” Miss Josie, the younger sister, rushed in, likely eager for a chance to join the conversation. “The island, I mean. Always sunny.”

“And often rainy,” he pointed out, “but it’s a different rain than here. It’s warmer and has more purpose.”

Miss Ida chuckled. “Do you mean to say English rain has no purpose?”