Spellbreaker

The duchess gave the duke a look that Elsie did not like. A knowing look.

Mr. Kelsey said, “Miss Camden has impeccable taste in ballrooms,” and lifted his spoon to his mouth. Elsie watched to see if he’d dribble anything into his beard, but he proved quite adept at eating with facial hair. How irritating.

“Is that so?” asked the duchess.

“Master Merton,” Elsie began, her appetite starting to slip away from her, “when did you first notice potential in Miss Ida?”

“Oh, I wasn’t even the first to notice! That was Master Thompson.” Because aspecting did not have a feminine title for women, Elsie was unsure at first if Master Thompson was male or female. “He went to university with the duke’s brother,” the aspector continued, “as did Mr. Kelsey’s father, if I remember correctly?”

Mr. Kelsey nodded, more interested in his soup than the conversation. Elsie envied him his silence. As the newcomer to the table, she wouldn’t be allowed much of it.

“He just had a hunch, apparently. Like drawn to like, I suppose,” Master Merton prattled on. “I was there when he tested her. A dozen drops in her hand lit up like the sun!”

Miss Ida blushed.

“How interesting,” Elsie said. “I admit I know little of magic myself”—do not look at Mr. Kelsey—“but my employer is an aspector. Not nearly at your level, of course.”

“Is he?” the duchess asked.

Stop talking about your personal life!

Elsie nodded. “And Miss Josie”—what’s something refined young women do?—“do you . . . sing?”

After a long conversation about music, the second course arrived, and Elsie found she had a bit more appetite. Ida mentioned the opus thefts, which instantly engaged Elsie’s attention, but the conversation was quashed by the duchess. “Let’s not speak of terrible things we have no control over,” she said firmly. Elsie wondered if the prospect of her eldest becoming an aspector made the duchess uneasy, what with the news in the papers of late.

The duke instead chatted about dog breeds, and Master Merton conversed enthusiastically. Elsie was content to merely listen until the third course arrived, and she once again became a topic of interest.

“You mentioned working for an aspector?” the duke asked.

Elsie clamped her hands together under the table. “I . . . yes. A novice, really. He’s an artist—”

“He does very well for himself,” Mr. Kelsey interjected, his voice smooth and confident. “As does Miss Camden.”

She paused at the compliment. But what did Mr. Kelsey know? Either way, it was a delicate attempt to bolster her standing, and for that she was grateful.

“But of course.” The duchess nodded. “Remind me how you two met?”

Mr. Kelsey said, “I would have had to tell you the first time to remind you, Your Grace.”

The duchess swatted her hand in the air. “I’ve told you about formality, Bacchus.”

Josie said, “But we’re dining,” referring to the formal occasion.

The duchess gave her youngest daughter a pointed look, and Josie dropped her attention to her meal.

“Just in the market.” Elsie tried to recall what she’d told Emmeline. “I was . . . having some trouble with a door. Mr. Kelsey graciously aided me.”

His lips quirked at the near truth.

“Oh yes.” Master Merton nodded enthusiastically. “The days are getting hotter and more humid. The wood swells right up! But you know a spell for that, don’t you, Mr. Kelsey?”

Mr. Kelsey set down his fork. “I do, but I’ll not be enchanting another’s door. More often than not, a firm push will do well enough.”

“So pragmatic,” the duchess chimed. She dotted her lips with a napkin. “All that talk of music. Josie, you’ll play for us after dinner, yes?”

“Of course!” she replied.

“I—” Elsie began, but her mind proved stubborn in fathoming an excuse. She could stay up a little later tonight to finish her work for Ogden, couldn’t she? No doubt he’d have a list for her after another long day at the squire’s. He had seemed so harried earlier. Not like himself.

“Miss Camden is not local, and it grows late,” Mr. Kelsey said. Elsie wasn’t sure if she should bless him or be offended that he wanted her gone so quickly. “It’d be best if she departed.” Then, catching himself, he added, “but I would enjoy your music, Miss Josie.”

Josie grinned.

“Oh dear, yes. I’m sure your escort is waiting,” said the duchess.

Elsie forbade her cheeks to blush. They nearly listened. “Yes, she’ll be here any moment.” And she’d be charged a premium if the driver had to wait. With all the cabs she’d been hiring, Elsie would be going to the poorhouse soon.

The rest of the meal went smoothly, with Master Merton talking of the excitement of aspecting and the Spiritual Atheneum in London. When the last plates were taken away, Mr. Kelsey forsook his port to escort Elsie to her imagined chauffeur.

The cab wasn’t there.

“I did ask him to return at eleven.” Elsie stood in the gap in the stone wall, wringing her hands. Her voice might have been a touch defensive.