Page 43 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

Merritt winced. “You’re doing it to me right now, aren’t you?”

The question confused Hulda, until she realized, by the frown on the lawyer’s lips, that he meant the hysteria. Mr.Baillie was trying to bespell Merritt!

That smirk ... that uptick of his mouth as Hulda sobbed ... If Mr.Baillie wasn’t using magic on her, he was a lunatic.

But this ... this was not going to help either of them in the long run.

Merritt pressed harder; Hulda ran up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Merritt.”

“If you’re innocent,” Merritt growled, “why aren’t you calling for help?”

Mr.Baillie’s eyebrow twitched. “I’m not afraid of you, Mr.Fernsby.”

“You should be,” he snapped. “And if you’re trying to make me fear you, you should know I am nothing butangryright now.”

It was only a flash, and Hulda wasn’t sure either man noticed it, but for half a heartbeat, Mr.Bailliedidlook scared.

And he should. Right now, Merritt was the personification of a feral dog.

“Merritt.” Her voice was steady, even as her chest constricted like an overused chimney. “Let him go.”

It took a moment, but Merritt backed off. Removed his fingers one at a time. But when he stepped away, Mr.Baillie remained pressed to the wall.

A wardship spell was holding him there.

Merritt said nothing more, only scowled at the man and put a hand on Hulda’s back. Getting hold of herself—running through a mental checklist of her appearance—Hulda let him guide her from the room. As they reached the reception desk, MissSteverus stood, but Hulda preempted any commentary by saying, “Please see Mr.Baillie removed from the wall.”

And then they left.

Chapter 10

November 11, 1846, Blaugdone Island, Rhode Island

Despite the length of the trip, they returned to Whimbrel House instead of going out—Merritt certainly wasn’t in the mood to sit out in public, and if he wasn’t feeling up to it, Hulda certainly wouldn’t be. She was quiet on the kinetic tram and kept her face turned toward the window, likely so other passengers wouldn’t see the pink around her eyes. By the time they reached the little enchanted skiff at the port—the smallest boat docked there—Merritt had more or less gotten a hold of his own blundering emotions. The boat’s kinetic spell had propelled them out a short ways before Hulda finally spoke.

“You should not have done that.”

Merritt glanced over, the wind blowing his hair from his face. “Come again?”

She sat rigid-backed again, as if becoming the “iron bar” she’d described herself as would protect her from feeling whatever it was she didn’t want to feel. Still, she looked at him earnestly, all those feelings glimmering in her hazel eyes. “Ihaveto keep things professional, Merritt! I have to put on a good face—”

“That was already out the window when I arrived,” he countered.

She folded her arms as the wind ruffled her collar. “Violence certainly wasn’t the answer.”

Merritt snorted and looked out over the bay. The boat seemed to be taking an awfully long time to cross the water. “You’re welcome.”

He saw her slouch—a good sign—from the corner of his eye. “I’m not angry with you,” she said. Paused. “No, I am angry with you. But I’m also grateful for your intervention. And I don’t know how to manage any of this.” She flung her hands up in the air. “If Mr.Walker finds out ...”

He turned back to her, pulling his hands from the edge of the boat—the wintry air was beginning to sting them. “If Mr.Walker finds out, then Baillie will have to show his hand.” Then, under his breath, he mumbled, “Silliness my ass.”

Hulda shook her head. “I don’t share your confidence. Women are so easily labeled as hysterical.”

Now Merritt slumped. “I don’t know, Hulda. I’m sorry. I was already frustrated when I got there—same old reasons.” He waved a hand, as if doing so could dismiss them. “Sadie said you’d be out in a minute, and then I heard you—” Her face paled, or he thought it did—the twilight made it hard to tell. So he added, “You weren’tloud, but you’re ... you ... and I just picked up on it. I was soangry, Hulda. When I walked in and saw his smug countenance while you looked like you were falling to pieces ...” His voice drifted off. He cleared it. “I was angry. And then I wasfurious. The longer I held him against that wall, the more furious I became. It had to be him. He was doing something to me.”

She nodded. “I believe he was. As for myself, I wouldn’t have ... behaved ... in such a manner otherwise.”

Merritt returned his hands to his pockets. “No, you wouldn’t have. Not much rattles you.”

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