Heir of Uncertain Magic (Whimbrel House, #2)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

Poison churned in his gut as he processed Sutcliffe’s underlying meaning. You have an entire family out there, but do be careful what you say to them, or they’ll know my secret.

Part of her feared she’d meant to push Merritt away. She was a master of that—shoving aside any thought of love so she could manage life without disappointment. So she could achieve that which she could control.

While Hulda had not been involved with Mr. Hogwood’s doings, she had withheld information, and that in itself was damning.

She’d been reading for only five minutes when a sinking feeling started in her middle and tugged on her shoulders. Hulda straightened her back as though she could relieve it physically and tried to focus, but the subtle sensation grew like a snowball rolling down a hill, collecting ice as it descended. Her thoughts turned heavy. Her heart hurt. It became increasingly hard to read, and she didn’t know why

Why are you telling me this? She didn’t voice it, because there was a veritable frog in her throat, and she wondered why Mr. Baillie thought to discuss the situation with her at all. He wasn’t the friendly sort. And then anxiety, not sadness, flared to life inside her, raising gooseflesh on her skin,

“I am afraid to say I believe Mr. Baillie is enchanting me.” Mr. Walker blinked. “He isn’t married, but I don’t think—” “Mr. Walker!” She stomped a foot. “I did not say I am enchanted with him. I say that he is a hysterian who has been using his magic on me for the last two days!”

LOL oh brother

“That is, there’s a man—” “A man?” Danielle leaned forward with a grin. “You haven’t brought up a man in some time!

I’m trying to mete out affections appropriate to the timetable . . .” Danielle was staring at her blankly. “What?” Hulda asked. “You’re not like this with him, are you?” She rose and planted herself back in her chair. Hulda blinked. “What do you mean?” Her sister rolled her eyes. “Reserved and stiff, you ninny.” Hulda straightened. “I am not, thank you.”

okay I think I officially love Hulda's sister!

It’s this sort of stoicism you adopted in your early twenties. When it gets severe, you’re more of a statue than a person.” Hulda wilted. “Not in a bad way . . . not entirely,” she amended. “But . . . well, you’ve always had an old soul, but the older you get, the more, I don’t know, afraid you become of being human.

Reaching over, Danielle took her hand and squeezed it. “If this Mr. Fernsby fell in love with you, that means he loves who you are, bars and shell and all.” She smiled. “That says a lot for his character. I think it’s romantic.”

“You never want to talk about it. Not when you got here with little more than the clothes on your back, not after you moved, and not now.” Merritt didn’t answer. “This is the whole reason we came here.” “It’s my problem, Fletcher.” He folded his arms against the cold but didn’t move away from the draft. “I’ll deal with it my way.” “Your way is not dealing with it at all.” Merritt

And I love Fletcher as well!

“You’ve been holding it in for thirteen years. Let it go.”

It was hard to believe there was a boy in there when he acted so much like a dog, but then again, perhaps Silas Hogwood hadn’t removed the dog’s spirit before shoving Owein into the same body. Perhaps he couldn’t

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He crossed the room to her, moving on legs that belonged to an old man, and plopped his forehead on her shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered. Something about the words, about the weariness to his voice, made her eyes sting. She wrapped her arms around him. “It was no trouble.” She leaned her cheek against his head. “Do you want to eat . . . ?” “In a moment.” His arms loosely encircled her. He didn’t lift his head. “In just . . . a moment.” Hulda nodded. Squeezed a little tighter. They stayed like that for a long time.

Awww

He was just fine.” Merritt straightened, removing the opportunity. “Like, Oh, here he is, my son whom I haven’t seen in thirteen years, and oh yes, I did have an affair with your mother, ta-ta, isn’t that unfortunate. Be a good lad and don’t tell anyone.”

“I picked the stitches on my sister’s dress!” she bellowed. Heat flushed from her hairline to her breasts. Merritt paused in the entryway. Turned. “What?”

“And Baillie is English,” he offered. “Why leave all of it behind and move to the States, just to oversee a smaller company?” Hulda turned the telegram over in her hands. “Perhaps it isn’t about money.” Mr. Walker’s voice sounded in her memory. You don’t by chance know where those funds were transferred? She bit her lip. Pinched the telegram in her fingers and pulled it out of her pocket. “I wonder,” she said as she unfolded it, “if this isn’t about Mr. Hogwood, but about the missing funds.”

What the hell was he supposed to say? Nelson Sutcliffe said I should contact you about magic. For no reason at all. Except I just so happen to have the exact same spells you do. Also his nose. But don’t tell his wife.

“No. I don’t use guns, anymore.” “Anymore?” He snapped the muzzle back into place and aimed. “Is why I left France. No one would hire felon.” Merritt shot his first errant bullet and turned to Baptiste. “Pardon?” He shrugged. “You never asked.”

the man supposedly had no power beyond the ability to incite feelings of silliness in others. Perhaps he should have run a children’s puppet theater instead of going into law.

LOL IKR

“Who am I supposed to cook for, hm? Who? Not Miss Larkin, not Miss Taylor, now not you.” He can cook for me. “Owein says you can cook for him,” Merritt related. Baptiste threw his hands in the air and stalked back to the house. Unless it’s venison, Owein added, making Merritt’s throat itching a little worse. I’m tired of venison.

most hysterians can’t give you a new emotion, they can only manipulate the ones you already have. At least, those are the common spells in the pool.”

Hulda also recalled the side effects of hysteria: physical pain and apathy. While she hadn’t detected any signs of pain in the lawyer who was now pulling a chair across from the one she was to sit in, he was certainly one of the most apathetic persons of her acquaintance.

“Not because you are having an affair with him?”

It's not "an affair", they are both single and free to pursue each other.

“Affair is a poor term to use. It suggests one of us is married and also that we’ve had sexual encounters. Neither is true. And, I will state for the record, we were not involved until after I left my post.”

THANK YOU!

“If you can’t control yourself, we can postpone until morning.” Hulda stood. Too quickly, for her head spun. “I can control myself just fine,”

Not him gaslighting her

The slightest breeze whisked past her. Something hit the wall. And suddenly the knife pulled clean from her chest, and while she emotionally bled, the feelings dissipated, leaving dusty traces in their wake. Pulling her hands down, Hulda gasped. Merritt was there. Merritt was there, and he had Baillie shoved up against the closest office wall.

Yesssss

For a moment Hulda thought she saw a flash of red from the corner of her eye, but when she glanced over, there was nothing there. The door, however, had been left wide open.

was only a flash, and Hulda wasn’t sure either man noticed it, but for half a heartbeat, Mr. Baillie did look scared. And he should. Right now, Merritt was the personification of a feral dog.

“Please see Mr. Baillie removed from the wall.”

LMAO

“Violence certainly wasn’t the answer.” Merritt snorted and looked out over the bay. The boat seemed to be taking an awfully long time to cross the water. “You’re welcome.”

under his breath, he mumbled, “Silliness my ass.”

LMAO Exactly !

Women are so easily labeled as hysterical.”

Sad but true!

To his surprise, Baptiste brought out a cured-meat board, plates, mugs of cider, and some cheese, setting everything down silently. “Bless you,” Merritt said. Neither of them had eaten, and he’d told Baptiste not to prepare anything. The chef nodded and left them to their privacy. Whatever the man had done in France to earn two years’ jail time . . . Merritt mentally exonerated him.

“Is it illegal to stick someone to the wall with a wardship spell?” While he didn’t want to damage Hulda’s reputation, he was pleased with that—because it must have been humiliating to the lawyer, and also because he’d done it on purpose.

“You know.” He ran his thumb over her knuckle, feeling . . . daring. “You’ve never really let me kiss you.”

Needless to say, it was a good thing Merritt was sitting down.

LMAO ooh naughty Merritt

“You mean to capture Mr. Hogwood—that is, if he is living—and marry him into the royal family? Mr. Adey! That man is a murderer of the highest degree!” The detective wasn’t the least put out by her chastisement. “I said nothing of marriage, Miss Larkin.” She was so stunned she didn’t know how to answer.

Baptiste showed the stranger to the door, and then through it. Likely the cook would follow Mr. Adey all the way to his boat and make it look like a courtesy rather than suspicion.

“This one”—Gifford pulled out the copy of the ancient paper—“hypothesizes there exists a spell that not only permits a person to speak to insects, but allows the controlling of them as well. Isn’t that fascinating?” Merritt tried to imagine what he might do with an army of beetles, or perhaps butterflies.

You could become antman lol

I am not some simpering, afflicted woman.

However, the pattern of the mess flashed in her mind, and suddenly she saw Mr. Baillie, posture shrunken, hair mussed, his face shiny with perspiration. Backing away, like he was in some sort of trouble. His face was as serene as usual, but fear glimmered in his eyes. He was looking at something—

His most notable work was with the will and probate of Silas Hogwood, as well as his defense for Hogwood versus the Crown in 1836. Hulda nearly dropped the letter. She reread that last sentence. “Silas Hogwood?” she whispered. Her lungs struggled to take in air as two separate dilemmas overlapped.

Owein got a weird feeling in his stomach, and he didn’t think it was from the treat. Who was this man? Why was he here without the others? And why had he entered so cautiously, making the front door snick?

Owein sat in the doorway and barked at the man. The man frowned and grumbled, “Mutt.” So Owein made the floorboards expand and swallow his left foot.

“Have you ever fallen down the well?” She glanced at him. “Do many survive falling down a well?” “I mean in research,” he amended.

Women will be donning breeches by June.” He smiled. “And men, corsets.”

Lol looks like they predicted the future

“He’ll not be happy after this.” Baillie didn’t meet their eyes. Hulda took the bait. “Who’s he?” “Mr. Walker.” The man pushed up his glasses and looked at her, then Merritt. Sighed. “I’m far enough now, and enough time has passed, that his hold on me is wearing thin. He’ll wonder why I’m missing. Why I haven’t reported back.”

“He’s a psychometrist, Miss Larkin.” He moved his bag to his shoulder. “An adept one. Not like Miss Haigh—as far as I know, he cannot read thoughts. But he can control them.”

“He’s obsessed with Silas Hogwood,” Baillie continued, and doubt twisted in Merritt’s mind again. “He’s praised him, in private. Hogwood, that is.” Baillie swallowed. “I think he wants to emulate him. That’s what he’s trying to track down.