Page 68 of Boy of Chaotic Making

“Hulda.” Her name was only a whisper between chuckles, but at least he could form the basic sounds. “I am not laughing because another man has noticed you. I’m laughing because you’re so adorably uncomfortable about it.”

She drew her brows together. “Well ... then I suppose ...” She sighed. “Men are not usually interested in me.”

“You surround yourself with foolish men. Which I thank you for.” Still a whisper.

Her posture softened. “Professor Griffiths and I get along very well. We’re both academics, both augurists. I would like to think our time together has been pleasant. And today he suddenly began inquiring somewhat intensely about you, about our wedding date—”

“Inquiring how?” There was a slight squeak that time.

“How long we’ve known each other, which he suggested wasn’t really very long at all. And he said writing isn’t a reliable occupation.”

“That’s the truth,” he murmured.

She gave him a pointed look that told him he tested her patience. “He seemed to hint that you may be a source of stress in my life, and that it was peculiar we were waiting so long to get married.”

“I believe,” he rasped, “both are accurate.”

“Merritt Fernsby, take this seriously!”

He smiled, and when she moved to swat at him, he caught her hand and pulled her in, placing a delicate kiss on her mouth. Then, staring quite directly into her eyes, he croaked, “I do take it seriously, Hulda. And I believe you. Anyone worth their stones would see you’re a catch. But I’m notworriedabout it.”

She frowned. Searched his face. “Not at all?”

“Do you love me?”

Hulda never liked discussing vulnerable emotions, but they’d been together long enough that the question didn’t catch her off guard. “Of course I do. That’s a rubbish thing to ask.”

“Then I’m not worried.” He released her hand.

She considered that a moment. “In truth, I’m not sure what I wanted you to say. Dismiss it, accept it, fly off in a jealous rage ...”

“I can try for the last once my voice returns, if you’d like.” His words were already clearer and less wheezy, but he wouldn’t sound quite himself for at least another quarter hour. In truth, part of himdidwant to meet this professor, to size him up. He was a man, after all. He hadprotective instincts, as Mr. Gifford at the Genealogical Society would say. But he and Hulda were perfectly shaped cogs in a slightly eccentric clock. His future was and always would be with her.

She bit down on a smile. “I suppose it’s too late for a stroll.”

“I’ve been strolling all day.” To punctuate that, he stretched out his legs. “But I think you’d be interested to hear what the Druids told me about root systems. Perhaps I could interest you in a short walk to check our wards, and then in a library getaway until Lady Helen summons us for supper?”

Hulda smiled. “I would like that very much.”

Chapter 24

March 8, 1847, London, England

With no more attacks upon the house and the grounds clear of revolutionaries, the tour of the Tower of London commenced immediately after breakfast the next morning, the group having traveled via the Leiningen family’s exquisite coaches rather than the fast but more public kinetic tram. Lady Helen started the tour herself as soon as they reached the river Thames. The boxy fortress came into view as they crossed Westminster Bridge.

Merritt whistled softly, pressing his temple to the window to get a better look. Owein sat beside him, while Hulda and Ladies Helen and Cora sat across from them. Prince Friedrich, Baron von Gayl, and Mr. Blightree were riding in a separate carriage. As promised earlier, Lady Briar had not come along on the tour, nor had she come down for breakfast.

Merritt had to admit that London had a sort of ancient dazzlement about it. Nothing in the States was as old or as regal as the things they passed, and he had a funny feeling they never would be. America was new and innovative, always looking to build quickly and expand, while England was a place that dug its roots deeper and deeper, so that nothing—a conqueror, a tsunami, an asteroid from space—could ever wipe it out.

“—Norman military architecture,” Lady Helen said with pride, as though she herself had commissioned the castle. “The other additions, there and there, were added in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.”

She explained more about the fortress, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, until the carriages pulled into an elaborate carriage house and servants in a livery Merritt didn’t recognize came to escort them out. There was a bit of a chill in the breeze, so Merritt buttoned his coat up to his chin, then offered his elbow to Hulda.Are you cold?he asked Owein.

I’m all right.

Lady Helen didn’t seem to feel the temperature as they approached the Tower of London—which was really several towers—whereas her daughter hunkered down in her cloak. There were quite a number of guards standing on and around the fortress, which the lady remarked upon only seconds after Merritt thought it. “We don’t plan on any wars anytime soon.” She chuckled. “But there are valuable things within, so the tower is protected. You’ll note a few men in blue—they are from the Queen’s League of Magicians. Owein, you would be eligible to join their ranks, once you secure a human form. They are very particular. Even my Cora can join when she’s eighteen, though she hasn’t shown a lick of interest in it. I can’t blame her. It’s not a very feminine occupation, though there are women in the ranks. Perhaps I would have joined had I not been married so young. Both Friedrich and the baron are members.”

“Not active,” Prince Friedrich said, hands clasped behind his back. He’d been in a quiet conversation with his son-in-law, but still caught his wife’s words. Lady Cora said nothing on the matter, merely walked in the back, taking in the sights with her large blue eyes. Owein dropped back to walk beside her.

---