More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Read between
April 9 - April 15, 2024
“Oh dear.” Hulda pushed the door all the way open and stepped in. Paused when her candle illuminated him. “Oh dear.” Merritt met her eyes, which were trained on his chest. He looked down. Right. Where had he thrown that shirt?
There was no way on God’s verdurous earth Hulda would let him kiss her here and now. They weren’t properly dressed, it was the middle of the night, and they were in Merritt’s bedroom. She was far too prudent for that, which was truthfully for the better.
the house somehow untouched by the weather despite its lack of mystical wizardry.
“I could build you a house on the island,” he offered, half-serious. She raised an eyebrow. “In the winter? Single-handedly? There aren’t enough trees here for a second cottage.” A smile pulled on his lips. “I’ll do it entirely with wardship spells.” Another recent revelation: Merritt could build invisible walls. Not that he had any sort of grasp on that unexpected bit of magical talent. “That would hardly be private.” He let his face go lax, feigning confusion. “Why would you need privacy?” She swatted his arm, and he chuckled. “You are a rake, Mr. Fernsby.”
He didn’t remember dying. If he held very still and thought very hard, he could remember being sick.
He didn’t like it. The ocean and those unfamiliar spaces beyond. He shook hard but couldn’t disperse the uneasy feeling. The fear creeping up like he’d stepped in an anthill.
It was a telegram. Curious, Hulda unfurled it and read the short message. The receipt book fell from her lap. Tell me where he is, or I will keep my promise. Her fingers went cold. Was this . . . Was this a threat?
perhaps her work with Silas Hogwood was not her only secret.
Because, betrayal or no, Myra was Hulda’s dearest friend. If she was in trouble . . . Hulda wanted to help. That, and Hulda feared BIKER would fall apart without her.
She’d reread the note every day since receiving it, like she needed to reassure herself it had really happened. That there was a man alive who actually cared for her that way. That the cycle of rejection and loneliness had actually stopped.
“Hiding is a sign of guilt,” Mr. Baillie said, and Hulda decided she didn’t like him.
Well he's not wrong
We’ve sifted through BIKER’s bank records and have found unaccounted-for funds.”
Her precognition was tied to patterns, such as those seen in tea leaves, fallen sticks, or dice.
She didn’t actually do any mental work to find connections in patterns—her augury was a sort of sixth sense, and it kicked in automatically. Involuntarily.
“And then our third candidate, of course.” Folding her hands in her lap, Hulda asked, “Third?” Mr. Walker looked surprised. “But of course, Miss Larkin. I suppose Miss Steverus didn’t have a chance to tell you that your name is up for the position as well.” Hulda found herself fish-mouthing again. Because despite being an augurist, she certainly hadn’t seen that coming.
Despite having a spirit some two hundred and twenty-something years old, Owein still behaved like a boy. He’d died at the age of twelve, and twelve was the age engraved into his heart. Perhaps his lack of maturity came from being alone for so long, away from the social and familial interactions that would have helped him grow up. Perhaps aging was a thing of the body and not the soul.
Why should I be sad when so much is good? Such a simple answer, and one Merritt wanted to cling to.
“My apologies! You must be Mr. Larkin!” Merritt laughed, altogether amused by the woman’s enthusiasm, Sadie’s blanching, and the bright shade of red swallowing Hulda’s face. She blushed so easily. “Something like that.”
“LIKER?” Merritt repeated. “London,” she clarified. He nodded. “All of you have truly terrible acronyms.” Hulda pinked a little more, but Mr. Walker grinned. “That we do.”
I’m a conjurist, myself, though my bloodline is so diluted you would barely believe it.” Miss Richards chimed in. “And his magic is illegal.” Hulda perked up at that. “Truly?” Mr. Walker chuckled. “Indeed. In both Britain and the States. I can turn small things into gold. But I shan’t demonstrate.”
“Really, darling.” He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, took her hand, and pulled her knuckles to his lips. Met her eyes and held them until that flattering pink suffused her cheeks. Then he whispered, “Just let me enjoy you.”
you understand why I must remain completely professional at BIKER. I need to portray myself as the most eligible person to take over.” He nodded. “I understand.” Smirking, he added, “I’ll be the best associate of your acquaintance.” She rolled her eyes.
Hulda seemed the obvious choice. She was available, she was actually a BIKER employee, and she was the most competent person Merritt had ever encountered.
In truth, Merritt didn’t think Hulda Larkin could relax. God had made her out of steel and concrete and laced her together with thick whale-boned corsets. Something they would have to work on.
“I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but after reviewing your family lines, you really will have the most miraculous children, I’m sure of it.” Merritt barked a laugh while Hulda stuttered, “Y-You are too forward, Mr. Gifford. We are unwed.” At least she didn’t claim Merritt as her associate again.
Leaning in close to Hulda, Merritt whispered, “This is just an awkward day for you all around, isn’t it?” Without looking at him, she said, “And I’m sure you’re enjoying it.” “Most definitely.”
presume this is for you?” Merritt rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, it’s not for the dog.” Confusion weighed Gifford’s brow,
Hulda deemed it improper to live at Whimbrel House, given their romantic situation,
Fletcher was the only person outside of Whimbrel House Merritt had confided in; the Portsmouth postmaster had likely grown weary from the number of letters passed between them.
he hadn’t had a drink in . . . he couldn’t actually remember. He’d gone through such a perfectionist phase after moving out on his own, determined to prove his father wrong and also to ensure no one else had a reason to cast him away.
“That carefree attitude of his . . . it’s a farce.” She lowered her eyes as though ashamed. “There’s something raw and hurting inside him.
A silence—not an uncomfortable one—fell between them. The length of a few heartbeats before his gaze drifted back to her, watching long enough for Hulda to feel self-conscious. She ran her tongue over her teeth, fearing something from dinner had gotten trapped there. “You’re beautiful,” he said. Her tongue died in her mouth. Heat filled her cheeks again—if she could have one wish, it would be to blush less!
“You,” he continued, unabashed, “are absolutely gorgeous when you flush.” Her heart thudded hard against her ribs at the forward statement. And, of course, her cheeks heated, earning her a mischievous grin from Merritt. She was so unaccustomed to compliments. At least, these kinds of compliments.
Despite his forwardness, his lips were chaste—a good thing, since Hulda wasn’t sure what she would have done if they were not.
Merritt hadn’t related the true nature of the dog to his teacher. For some reason, it felt safer to keep that private.
He’d never spoken to Owein using communion, only listened. Owein had no communion spells; he simply spoke “dog,” or whatever the mental or silent version of “dog” was. All the translating came from Merritt’s end.
Baillie went on, face slack like it’d been sculpted by a bored artist,
Drawing in a deep breath, Merritt turned for the stairs. Paused and glanced back to Miss Richards. “Water that damn plant.” He jerked a thumb toward the fern and took the stairs down,
Or let’s go . . . buy soup or something.”
Lol that maded me laugh.
They had never really done anything pertaining to routine courtship, unless one considered fighting for one’s life in a dank basement routine courtship.
If he was going to protest the social normative and wear his tresses long, he should really tie them at the nape of his neck and pretend to be a proper gentleman, and yet Hulda had grown quite accustomed to the carefree way they sat on his shoulders, just a little too long to dust them.
I’d just come home from a long stint in Canada myself, only to be assigned to some wayward place in the middle of Narragansett Bay. The owner was quite dreadful.” Merritt chuckled, but she didn’t miss how he muffled a yawn. “I’ve met him and must agree.”
He kissed below her ear. “Merritt.” She was alarmed at how breathy her voice sounded. At how titillating his administrations to her were becoming. “Hm?” He pressed his lips to her neck, and her body jumped to life, sending her thoughts into very indecent places cloaked in shadow. That was the only reason she could fathom for why the next words slipped from her mouth. “I’m not going to sleep with you.” Merritt froze.
*facepalm* OMG whyyy Hulda!?
Her mind scrambled for an answer. It’s just that I’m a virgin and I know you’re not, but I know I shouldn’t have brought it up and I’m digging into that hurt and why did I say that—
How could she think so little of his character? I’m not going to sleep with you. Might as well have castrated him right there.
He lowered himself into the farthest chair, displacing a cat when he did so. Hate, it spat. Hate. Merritt stared after the feline, wondering if he should apologize, but the cat continued on its way, disappearing down the hall.
In truth, despite all that led to his receiving it, that house had been and was a blessing in his life. It was his safe haven. It had led him to Hulda or, rather, led Hulda to him. It had opened his eyes to magic and given
“How did you and my mother . . .” He avoided eye contact. “How did it even happen?” Sutcliffe grinned. “Well, when a man and a woman—” “Don’t patronize me.”
Merritt wondered how many times he’d have to wipe the smile off Sutcliffe’s face before it stayed off. “That’s incredible, though,” the man pressed. “Skipped me.” Merritt’s hopes dribbled into puddles on the floor. “All of it?” Sutcliffe nodded, and the hopes iced over. So much for getting help from him.
