Page 40 of Boy of Chaotic Making

“Truly!” He wrote without looking down. “That is also my situation.”

“Diviner?” Hulda leaned forward, interested.

“Only.” He cut the air with his pen in emphasis. “We will be a most excellent fit, Miss ...” His eyes shifted to the pearl ring on her finger. “Mrs. Larkin.”

“Miss, for now,” she corrected. “Unless you’d like me to begin keeping house for you.”

He chuckled. “I obviously need it.” He patted the nearest stack of papers like it was a dog. “Ever since Evelyn’s passing, it’s been a bit of a wreck.”

Alarm straightened Hulda’s spine. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. Was she your ... wife?”

He nodded. Put the glasses back on and scribbled away. “Thank you, but I’m quite all right. It was some time ago.” He underlined something, but from her angle, she couldn’t quite read the tight, messy handwriting. “I haven’t had a student of magic for over a year. This will be a breath of fresh air. Is it reasonable to conjecture you can’t control the ability?”

“Yes! It merely comes and goes as it pleases.” In truth, one of the outcomes she hoped for in this tutoring was not merely better control of her magic, butcontrol, period. Something to make her feel purposeful and in command of herself. Something to ease her occasional bouts of uncertainty about her impending marriage.

“We might not be able to fix that entirely.” Professor Griffiths now looked over his glasses instead of removing them once more. “But we can hopefully hone your skills well enough to take out the guesswork. Now, I’ve a set of dice here ...”

Chapter 16

March 4, 1847, London, England

Merritt took a seat in one of the Leiningens’ two drawing rooms—the yellow one beside the conservatory. Brown-tinted ivy hung outside the window, and as the enchanted lights came on, Merritt heard it murmur,Suuuuunnnnn.

Soon enough,he thought, without relaying the message. He needed to save those delightful communion side effects for Owein.Though if you could whisper of any murder plots, I’m all ears.

The ivy didn’t respond.

A servant finished stoking the fire, curtsied prettily, and excused herself without a word. Cora sat in an armchair near the ivy’s window, close to the fire. She smoothed her pale-blue skirt, crossed her ankles, and rested her hands on her lap. A dark, carefully curled piece of hair bounced as she nodded her thanks to Merritt. Owein sat on the floor about two paces from Cora, just in front of the fire. Anabelle sat closest to the door and pulled out some knitting.

“I’ll try my best to be invisible,” Merritt offered.

Cora’s blue-eyed gaze shifted to Owein. “What would you like to talk about?”

Merritt expected Owein to look to him for help, but he simply answered,Does it ever snow here?

Merritt relayed the message.

“Yes, though we had more storms when I was a child.” Cora folded and unfolded her hands. “I saw a few flakes this winter, but they never stuck.”

It snows where I’m from, but not as much as inland, so I’m told.

“I’d like to go somewhere very snowy,” she said with a tip of her head. “Just for a few days. Where it reaches up past my knees and there are hills for sledding. Not too long. I don’t really like the cold. But I do think it would be rather novel.”

Or skiing.

“I think I’d be too afraid of skiing.” Cora glanced out another window, as though she could see snowy hills through its panes. “And I don’t believe it would suit with a skirt.”

You could wear trousers.

Cora blinked. “My mother would be beside herself.”

I won’t tell her.

A faint smile touched Cora’s lips. “Maybe it would be nice, to get away from her reach.” She hesitated, glancing up toward Anabelle, but the maid was far more interested in her knitting than the half-formed secret. “But whether we’d go somewhere like Austria, or deeper into the US? Austria would be closer.”

What’s Austria like?

A distinct tickle made Merritt cough as he translated the words. Anabelle rose instantly and tugged on the bell pull. Over a slight ringing in his left ear, Merritt said, “Pardon me.” His voice croaked. “Just a moment.”

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