Page 38 of Boy of Chaotic Making

It took Merritt a beat to recall the promised drawing room visit. “Yes, that should be fine. Though, I must ask—our arrival and stay here was somewhat ... obscure in details—”

“Oh, but you must stay as long as you like!” Lady Helen batted at the air as though intending to slap his knee, but her arm wasn’t nearly long enough to do so. “You’re practically family now.”

“Or will be, when that contract is signed,” Prince Friedrich added in a stern tone, obviously still upset about last night’s dinner.

Lady Helen snapped her fingers. “Oh, yes, I’m to meet with Miss Larkin this morning about that.”

Merritt smiled. “Of course, and thank you for your hospitality. It probably would be good for Owein and Cora to spend a little more time together.”

Lady Helen leaned across her husband conspiratorially. “Do you think he likes her?”

Merritt tried not to fish-mouth. “I mean, he doesn’t dislike her, certainly.” He would not relate Owein’s claim that he’d be equally ready to marry a toad. “All of this is very new to him.” Worried he’d been offensive, he added, “But your daughter seems very well mannered and kind.” Soft-spoken and shy, but good-hearted.

“Mother.” A new voice entered the room—Briar stepped in from the hallway, and Merritt wondered how long she’d been lingering there. There was no sign of anger in her bearing. She wore a simple pink gown, a stark contrast to her mother’s, and crossed the room quickly, perching at the far end of her parents’ sofa. “I’ve something I’d like to speak to you about.”

Feeling the tension instantly rise, Merritt stood. “I’ll excuse myself.” He nodded to the three of them, earning an appreciative smile from Briar, and slipped into the hallway. He honestly did not think Briar a hotheaded or unkind person; by all means, it was good to be protective of one’s sister. But her actions affected Owein, and therefore him, soMerritt allowed himself to linger long enough to catch the beginning of their conversation.

“I know what you’ll say, but hear me out. The Earl of Derby has a nephew who shows great promise in the earth element. He’s only a couple of years younger than Cora. The spells wouldn’t add, but perhaps they would make a better match—”

“Briar! Enough of this,” Lady Helen snapped, and it was the first time Merritt had heard anything truly unpleasant pass her lips. “You weary me! Be more open-minded. Go to Victoria if you must! But the queen herself approves of this match—”

Feeling an intruder, Merritt quietly continued down the hallway, out of earshot of the conversation. He couldn’t blame Briar for trying—it was, truly, an absurd situation.

At the same time, he feared Owein losing his one chance to be human again. Perhaps it was time he started taking these arrangements more seriously.

Hulda’s glasses perched low on her nose as she studied the six-page contract. She was a quick reader, but here she mulled over each and every word. She’d passed through the contract once already, and now scrutinized it even more closely. It gave her a headache, even with Blightree’s clean handwriting, but she persisted.

When she finally turned over the last page for the second time, Lady Helen quietly asked, “What do you think?”

“The provisions for the ethics of finding a body are sufficient.” She pushed her glasses higher on her nose and turned in her seat to better address her hostess. “I appreciate the effort put forth there.”

Lady Helen smiled.

“I do not see, however,” she continued, “anything clearly stating Owein Mansel’s rights.”

Lady Helen blinked. “His rights?”

“As to his person.”

The woman hesitated a moment. “Miss Larkin, why would he not be treated as any person would be treated?”

Hulda took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Mr. Mansel will be marrying into a noble family.Yournoble family. In doing so, he will become a nobleman. But the specifics of that change of title are not clarified within the document.”

A patient smile curved Lady Helen’s mouth. “He will, of course, be given a courtesy title and treated as any other member of the family.”

“I’m sure you would do no less.” Hulda pressed her index finger into the center of the contract. “However, this is a legally binding document. Mr. Mansel needs these protections and promises in writing—what title he will be receiving, how his marriage to Lady Cora affects her inheritance, what dowry he’ll receive, whether he’ll be given a seat in the House of Lords, and of course the granting of British citizenship. Without these things delineated in the contract, I will have to advise both Mr. Mansel and Mr. Fernsby to forgo signing.”

Lady Helen frowned.

“Please understand I am only looking out for the well-being of my family.” Her future family, but she didn’t feel the need to specify.

The patient smile returned. “But of course. I am embarrassed to think neither myself, my husband, nor Mr. Blightree considered it!” She moved forward and collected the papers. “I will see it redrafted at once.” She turned from the table but stopped halfway to the door. “I truly do think it will be a good match.”

Hulda nodded. “I think so, too.”

And with that, Lady Helen departed. Hulda gathered her things and followed right after. It was time to meet with the man who might have the answers to controlling her foresight.

Gethin Griffiths, augurist and professor at Durham University, did not live quite as far from Cyprus Hall as Hulda had anticipated, which meant she arrived rather early for her appointment. His office was located in a house that had been converted into office space not far from the Admiralty House; three stories of white brick with simple trim, dark oak door left ajar. Hulda pushed it open and peered within, immediately greeted by a stairway. Though she had the instructions memorized, she checked the note written in Lady Briar’s hand:Second floor on the right.

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