Page 75 of Wizard of Most Wicked Ways

He did.

“Those dresses were just laundered,” Hulda remarked half-heartedly from the porch. She had Ellis strapped to her chest in a sling, one chubby arm freed and waving. Neither Hattie nor Mabol heeded the subtle reprimand, to which Hulda simply sighed and stifled an eye roll with what looked like great difficulty.

“I need to talk to your mom.” Owein grabbed Hattie under the arms and lifted her to her feet. When he went to do the same with Mabol, she flopped into deadweight. Fortunately, three-year-olds tended not to be very heavy, and he righted her as well. A passing butterfly distracted Hattie, but Mabol looked right into Owein’s eyes and said, “I’ll miss you.”

Now Owein felt like deadweight. “I’ll miss you, too, May.”

She kissed him on the cheek, then took off after Hattie and the butterfly, exclaiming, “Don’t touch it, Hattie! You’ll break it!” as she went.

Standing, Owein brushed dirt off his knees and crossed to the porch. “May I?” He held out his hands to Ellis.

Hulda, lips tight, untied the sling and freed the babe, handing her gently to Owein. Once he settled Ellis on his shoulder, he noticed it was not disapproval that had Hulda’s lips pinched, but emotion. Hulda despised any sort of bodily clue that might reveal she was human.

“Remember not to be alone with her unless you have a chaperone.” Her voice wavered only a little. “Engaged or not, it’s inappropriate to be without one.”

Patting Ellis’s back as she cooed into his shoulder, Owein said, “I remember.”

“And you must make proper introductions with newcomers, especially among the peerage,” she continued, picking at the hem of her sleeve. “They’re very particular about it.”

He nodded.

“Make sure you get calling cards when you arrive. You can’t just show up unannounced at another’s home. And only visit within calling hours. That’s eleven to one for morning calls, three to six for afternoon calls, and eight to ten for evening calls.”

“I don’t plan on making many visits,” Owein offered.

“Make sure to follow your hosts’ seating arrangements and use the right utensils. You did study the place arrangements, didn’t you?”

He’d glanced at them. “Yes.”

She adjusted her glasses. “Respond to invitations promptly. You’ll receive a lot of them. Answer positively to as many as you can. For your sake, and for Cora’s.”

“Lady Cora,” Owein corrected her, biting down on a smile.

“I ... yes, I suppose she hasn’t given me express permission to use her Christian name.” She looked him up and down. Then she sighed, and with the exhaled air went her stiff posture, like she was deflating. “Oh, Owein, I wish I could go with you. I wish I could make it easier on you.”

He stepped closer, resting his hand on the inside of her forearm. “You’ve done all you could to prepare me, Hulda. Might be a little strange for me to show up with a governess.”

Hulda snorted.

“And I’ll have Cora there,” he added. “She won’t let me fail too miserably.”

She smiled, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “I suppose you’re right. Have you ... Have you two talked about that, much?”

He shook his head. “We only write about things that matter.”

She blinked in surprise before pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbing her eyes. “Well, I suppose that is important, too. May I ... Would it be acceptable to hug you?”

Now it was Owein’s turn to roll his eyes. He held out one arm. Hulda embraced him tentatively, warming up to it moment by moment, Ellis pressed between them. They didn’t embrace often. Again, it was a matter of Hulda’s masking her humanity—a bad habit she’d gotten into in her twenties, so Merritt had explained. But Owein didn’t fault her for it. In truth, he often envied it.

She released him and sniffed, again applying the handkerchief. “Merritt is in his office, I believe.” The wavering had a slightly tighter hold on her voice. “He will want to see you. Adey’s boat is due any moment.”

Owein checked his pocket watch. So it was. And Adey seemed a punctual person.

“You can still teach me,” he offered, kissing Ellis on the forehead before handing her over. “I’ll accept any of your letters, with instruction or without.”

She nodded. “I will do both, thank you. And take care of yourself, Owein.” One rebel tear fell from the corner of her eye. “The way you’ve taken care of us.”

When Owein stepped into Whimbrel House, it seemed too quiet. It reminded him of the old days, when it was the house, him, and no one else. Hot summer days rearranging furniture and drawing designs in paint, baking in the sun. They weren’t bad memories, per se. Just lonely ones. Nostalgia.

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