Page 76 of Boy of Chaotic Making

Professor Griffiths smiled. It was a small smile, a sad one, but he was polite and nodded. “But of course” was all he said, nothing more. Not wishing to make the situation graceless, Hulda wished him well and rose from her seat, taking even, measured footsteps to the door and down the stairs. Her heart beat ... not quickly, but firmly, as though her body were still digesting the furor of the offer.

She and Professor Griffiths did have several similarities. Once upon a time, she would have been utterly rapturous at his interest. But she realized as she opened the door to the cool afternoon, Hulda had no desire to court herself. She didn’t want to be immutable, never changing or growing. She wanted to spend her life with a man who would challenge her, forcing her to stretch and evolve. Someone who made her think differently, who argued the other side, who made her laugh.

Her strides paused on the street, forcing a chimney sweep to step around her. That was it, wasn’t it? That was what shewanted. And she had it in Merritt. And Merritt wanted her for the same reasons. He relished her independence. They’d been to prison together, but he would never imprisonher. Being a married woman didn’t have to change who she was.

She searched for those anxieties, the bouquet of worries she’d been keeping close to her chest these past months, and couldn’t find them. Instead, she found resolve. She would marry Merritt Fernsby. ShetrustedMerritt Fernsby, with all that she had. There was not a better person in all the world she could give her heart to.

Grinning like a little girl, Hulda quickened her step, eager to return to Cyprus Hall, tohim, and to their future together.

She found him in the guest drawing room, a picked-at tray of meat and cheese near him, his feet propped by the fire. He must have been out this morning. He leaned against the armrest of his chair, a book in one hand, the other casually knotted up in his hair. He looked up as she approached, and grinned.

“Well, your premonition came true.”

Hulda froze a few paces from him. Her mind whirled ... Which premonition? Cora? Or ...

Merritt snapped the book closed and sat upright, setting it beside the tray, uncaring that he hadn’t marked his place. “Did you know that when a Druid changes into an animal, she doesn’t take her clothes with her?”

Hulda sank into the chair across from him as he recounted his outing with the Druids and their offer to accept him into their clan, and Morgance’s very direct method of trying to persuade him. He didn’t attempt to palliate the story at all, including all the details of the incident, which matched up perfectly with what Hulda had augured.

“And then we left.” He laughed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I have the stone still. Don’t think I’ll use it. Might be a bit awkward. Honestly, I might have been more of a mess if you hadn’t warned me. How was your morning?”

Hulda blinked. Then laughed. Harder than she needed to, but she couldn’t help it. Old stress bubbled up and escaped her on the wings of mirth, and she laughed until her ribs ached. To think, while she was being propositioned by the professor, Merritt was being seduced by a Druid!

“Is the thought of me being so fetching to the Irish funny?” He grinned.

Hulda put a hand on her breast and forced deep breaths to calm down. “It’s all lunacy, isn’t it? These situations we find ourselves in.”

He shrugged. “Keeps life interesting.”

She met his eyes. “I love you, Merritt Fernsby.”

He crooked an eyebrow at that. He knew as much, but Hulda didn’tsayit as often as she should. She was still overcoming her allergy to expressing herself.

“I love you, too,” he said.

And without bothering to check that the door to the room was shut, Hulda crossed to him, dug her hands into his unkempt hair, and kissed him.

April 12 couldn’t come too soon.

Chapter 27

March 10, 1847, London, England

E-X-I-T-E-D, Owein spelled with his paws on his letterboard.

Cora, perched tall and straight at the edge of the settee in the drawing room, ankles crossed and tucked under her, examined the board, blinking her large blue eyes. “Exited?” she asked. “You mean, excited? Am I excited for the palace tour?”

Owein nodded his head. He didn’t have Merritt—or Kegan or Sean, for that matter—to translate for him, but he figured it might be better not to have a third person around all the time. Might give him and Cora a chance to know each other a little better. People liked to prattle to dogs, or that was his understanding. Merritt and Beth prattled to him all the time, even when he didn’t respond or show interest. Owein didn’t mind simply listening. A person—or a dog—could learn a lot simply from listening.

Problem was, despite his best efforts over the last quarter hour, he couldn’t get Cora to prattle. She was reserved in her words as she was reserved in everything else, and Owein had only a few words, slowly and apparently incorrectly spelled, to offer in return.

So he sat up, straightening his spine the way she had, attempting a dignified look, and nodded.

“I suppose it’s always exciting to go,” she answered, examining her nails. “It’s the queen’s home, after all. An exquisite place. I’ve been before.” She paused, listening for people outside the room. A minute passed. “We go about twice a year, for varying functions.”

Her voice trailed off, like it was an effort to use it.

Owein spelled out a new word,W-E-N, but the door opened just then, and Lady Helen announced, “Carriages are ready, dears. Come along.”

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