Page 51 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

“Hm?” It was all she could manage with food in her mouth.

He propped his elbow on the small table and leaned his head against his fist. “As you said, I assaulted the man. Why not report me?”

She swallowed. “I think he did.”

“Did he? Did you ask what he said?”

She retraced the conversation with Mr.Walker. “No, I didn’t.”

“Baillie doesn’t seem the forgiving type. So why not prosecute? Why not get revenge?”

Perhaps we’ve misjudged him,Hulda thought. And yet ... after what happened in that office, Hulda was positive she hadn’t. But that vision she’d had—the one of Mr.Baillie perspiring, retreating, and scared—nagged at her.

She related it to Merritt, who frowned. “Who was he retreating from?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t a clue. Augury delights in being vague. At least, mine does.”

Shaking his head, Merritt stirred his soup again. “None of this sits right with me.”

Hulda watched the shifting of his expression as she blew on a spoonful of soup, giving him a moment to work out whatever was in his head. She wished she had Myra’s ability to read thoughts. What was he thinking right then?

Sighing, he sat up. Ate a spoonful. At least his appetite had returned. She’d noticed he wasn’t eating well—at least not during the meals she’d shared with him. She tried to keep an eye on his waistline to see if he’d lost anything there, but it was hard to tell under vests and coats and improperly tucked shirts. Perhaps she’d ask Baptiste. She would have preferred MissTaylor, but she wasn’t an option at the moment.

The change in appetite didn’t have anything to do with her, did it? The thought made nerves spark in her stomach.

Don’t be foolish,she chided herself.Not after he kissed you like that.

Her cheeks warmed.

“Maybe if he brings Beth back, I’ll consider,” Merritt finally said. He met her eyes; his looked like the sea did right now, cool and blue with hints of gray. Unsettled. “You haven’t heard anything?”

She shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. I tried finding a file related to where she’s been sent, but without luck.”

“Probably Baillie as well.”

“He’s a cad, certainly, though I’m not sure what benefit he would have, personally, to steal your maid.” She took another mouthful ofsoup. “If something was amiss, MissTaylor would have had the opportunity to write us by now and explain. Perhaps she was just feeling out of sorts that afternoon.”

Merritt rubbed his eyes. “I suppose that makes sense.”

Pressing her lips together, Hulda reached across the table and gently grasped his forearm. “We’ll sort it out. I’ll check again.”

He pulled his hand away and laid it over hers, his countenance softening. “I appreciate your efforts.”

She smiled at him.

“What are your plans for Christmas? I meant to ask you.”

The question surprised her and sent a flurry through her torso.Christmas.If he was asking, he intended to still have her around at Christmas. The thought was thrilling, though she tried not to react like a fool-headed girl. “I honestly haven’t thought of it.”

“Do you usually see your sister?”

“Or my parents.”

He glanced away, considering, and the saddest realization struck her.

Did Merritt usually spend Christmas alone?

He had Fletcher, of course. He’d stayed with the Portendorfers during his excursion to Cattlecorn. But did he go there on Christmas? Or did he stay away so as not to intrude, or because he couldn’t bear to be so close to his own family, yet so far away, on the holiday? That seemed like a Merritt thing to do. If he stayed away from Cattlecorn, how did he spend his holidays? What had he done in his little apartment in New York when the Christmas bells rang?

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