Boy of Chaotic Making (Whimbrel House #3)

Chapter 28

March 10, 1847, London, England

Hulda, Merritt, and Owein arrived at LIKER headquarters in the evening. She’d been careful not to tell anyone where they were staying, just in case the culprit was still out for Owein. If this nonsense was tied to the impending betrothal contract, hopefully their disappearance would calm things down.

Hulda didn’t want to believe that Lady Briar, or any of the Leiningens, were responsible for now three attempts on Owein’s life, if that’s what the first two were. The Leiningens were a hospitable and well-bred family. Even Lady Briar, while deeply opposed to the betrothal, contested it in a dignified manner. Then again, Hulda had learned the hard way not to take others at face value. She needed to follow her gut. Perhaps run through some augury exercises tonight and see if the future would give her a peek at the solution for this ever-growing problem.

After meeting with Miss Richards and obtaining keys, Hulda, Merritt, and Owein went around to the back of the building and entered it through a clandestine door, not unlike what she did at the Bright Bay Hotel in Boston. She found one of the spare rooms on the second floor and opened the door. The air had a brisk chill to it, so she quickly swept over to start the fire.

“Owein wants to know how long we’ll be here,” Merritt said, plopping down on the edge of the bed and dropping his suitcase at his feet.

“I’m not sure. At least the night. I’ll send word to Lady Helen in the morning. I’m sure by then there will be news from the palace. No one can use such spells on the queen’s property and get away with it.”

She coaxed the fire to life and took a moment to warm her hands by it. Stood and stretched her back, then crossed to the window to draw the diminutive draperies, letting in some light. It was only then she realized how still the room had become. Glancing over, she saw Merritt and Owein locking eyes, having another of their tacit conversations she would never be privy to.

She sighed. “Well?”

Merritt cleared his throat. “He wants to stay with the Druids.”

She reeled back a little, surprised. “The Druids?” The image of the nude woman—Morgance, apparently—throwing herself at Merritt rose in her mind. She dismissed it sharply. “LIKER is perfectly fortified. The Druids don’t even have a room in the city.”

Merritt paused, frowning, before speaking again, his voice growing hoarse. “I told him as much. He’s insistent.” Another pause, then, to Owein, “I’m getting to it. He says he wants to see them again before he leaves, and if someone really is after him, they wouldn’t look for him in the middle of a late-winter forest.” He hesitated before repeating Owein verbatim, “‘They’re my friends, and I won’t see them again after we return to the States.’”

“I’d rather you be where we can keep an eye on you.” Hulda folded her arms, as if doing so would quash the uneasiness building in her. “We don’t know enough to make any safe bets.”

Merritt paused, then gave Owein what Hulda could best describe as a “warning” look.

She rolled her lips together. “Go ahead. You needn’t censor him on my behalf.”

Giving her an apologetic look, Merritt said, “He says he’s not a child anymore. And while I may legally be responsible for him in America, he can do as he wants in England.”

Hulda frowned. Waited for a wave of trepidation to pass before speaking. “He is, technically, correct.” A new ache pulsed behind her forehead. She closed her eyes and rubbed it. “How well do you know these Druids?”

“I don’t think it’s a terrible idea.” Merritt spoke softly, as if doing so would ease the situation. “Outside of what happened with Morgance”—Owein perked up at that; Merritt hadn’t shared the information with him—“they seem responsible. Owein has gotten very close, very quickly, with Kegan and Fallon. They said they’d still be in the area, and they did give us that communion stone.” He turned sharply to Owein. “ That is not necessary. If you want to be treated like an adult, act like one.”

Hulda deemed it better not to know what that last exchange was about. “If we use the communion stone and they’re willing, will you return here by noon tomorrow? The last thing I want is to organize a search party scouring the countryside for you.” She strode closer and crouched before the terrier. “We care about you, Owein. You’re our family.”

A soft whine emitted from Owein’s throat. He dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“There’s no guarantee they will answer.” Merritt’s voice wheezed, and he cleared it again. Pulled the selenite rod from his suitcase and activated the rune on it. “Sean? It’s Merritt. Are you still nearby?”

About twenty seconds passed before a rich Irish voice responded, “Aye, Merritt. Have you changed your mind?”

“We’ve a situation at hand I’m sure Owein will be happy to fill you in on. We’ve departed from Cyprus Hall for the moment. Owein was hoping you might have room under your tent for him tonight.”

Another hesitation; Hulda assumed Sean was talking it over with his comrades. “How far out are you?”

Merritt glanced to Hulda, silently asking if they should divulge their location, or perhaps arrange to meet elsewhere. Deeming it safe, she nodded.

Merritt related the address.

“We’ll come to you,” Sean replied. “Make it easy on you. Need a few things in town, besides.”

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” Merritt waited for further response, but the communion rune dimmed, ending the conversation.

“Well, there you go,” he said to Owein. “Back by noon .”

Owein replied with an airy bark. A span of silence followed.

Standing, Merritt slid the stone into his pocket. “He wants your help writing a letter to Cora.” He took a moment to listen to further instruction. “‘I don’t want to run away from this,’” he added, speaking verbatim again.

A small smile pulled on her lips. “I would be happy to help, Owein. Let’s aim to be precise, for Merritt’s sake.”

As Hulda had the neater handwriting, she penned the letter for Owein, trying to keep it as much in his voice as she could, making suggestions where she found them prudent. It was a single short page, but it would do the job nicely enough.

Lady Cora,

I’m sorry about the trouble this has caused. I hope you’re feeling better after the incident at the carriage house. I want everyone to stay safe, so we’ll proceed with caution. I appreciate your patience, kindness, and friendship. I hope one day I’ll have a voice to express that myself.

Sincerely,

Owein Mansel

Hulda sealed and addressed it. She’d post it on the morrow, if they didn’t head straight back to Cyprus Hall. They could only take the situation one day at a time ... though time was a commodity she was quickly running low on. BIKER could not go on without its director forever.

Owein took to pacing the hall, listening for Sean’s arrival. Merritt sipped water slowly, staring off into space, thinking about, oh, his book or some such. He had a tendency to daydream, but such was the mind of a creative.

“Did we ever decide on flowers?” he asked later, voice returned.

“Hmm?” Hulda glanced up from the receipt book she’d opened only a minute before. “For the wedding?”

He nodded.

“I believe lilies are in season. I’ll have to check with Miss Taylor.” Beth had been helping with the arrangements while Hulda was busy stitching BIKER back together. The thought made her oddly melancholy. “I wish I hadn’t postponed everything.”

Merritt lifted his head. “What do you mean?”

“The wedding. We could have been married before Christmas.” She smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt.

“Hard to find seasonal flowers at Christmas.”

She rolled her eyes. “Flowers hardly matter, in the end. Flowers, the dress, the venue ... it’s all furbelow, in the end.”

Merritt smiled. “Pardon?”

She rechecked her words. “Embellishment. Superfluity. Hardly matters.” She tossed the receipt book onto a nearby empty shelf. “We’d already be married if I wasn’t so deep in work.”

“Your work is your life,” Merritt objected.

“My work is part of my life, and my life is in dire need of balance.” She adjusted her glasses. “You are a very critical component, as are Owein and Whimbrel House and the lot of it.”

“Careful, Miss Larkin.” He grinned. “I might think you like me.” He sat up straighter. “December was a hard month.”

“It was,” she conceded. “But still.”

Merritt shrugged. “We could just get married.”

She eyed him. “We are getting married.”

“I mean now.”

She waited for the conclusion of the joke, a witticism of some sort, but when none came, eager nerves began popping in her chest. “Now?”

He smirked.

“And how, pray tell, would we manage such a thing?” It was a nice sentiment, but unrealistic.

“Just head to the closest church, I suppose.”

Hulda clucked her tongue. “This isn’t the States, Merritt. We’re not English citizens. We’ve no congregation, and banns have to be posted three weeks prior to matrimony.”

He stood, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked over to her, finding a spot to lean against the wall. “Surely pastors can be bribed.”

“Surely those who try can be arrested, and I’ve been arrested enough times not to wish for another,” she countered. Considered. “I mean ... that is, I suppose there’s Gretna Green.”

“Isn’t that in Scotland?”

“Yes, just over the northwestern border. I believe there’s a kinetic tram that runs ...” She shook her head, and the eager bubbles burst one by one. “What am I thinking? We couldn’t possibly. We’ve a potential murderer somewhere about, and it’s too far from Owein. Whether or not he’s an ‘adult,’ it wouldn’t be responsible in the slightest! And what would we do about the wedding back home? The invitations have already been sent.”

Merritt pushed his hair back. “I mean, they wouldn’t have to know.”

She smiled at the sentiment. “It would be a wonderful secret, but it’s simply not feasible.”

A familiar Irish voice, louder this time, said, “Well, it may be.”

Hulda leapt straight out of her chair, nearly smashing her head into Merritt’s. A tall stranger lingered in the doorway, a hawk on his shoulder and Owein already at his knee. He lifted a hand in apology. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Steeling herself with a deep breath, Hulda quickly smoothed her skirts and approached. “You must be Sean. Forgive me, I’m not familiar with your surname.”

“Don’t really have one.” He smirked. To Merritt, he said, “Your fiancée?”

“None other,” Merritt answered.

He glanced between the two of them, making Hulda feel oddly self-conscious. “That is,” he went on, “if you’re not hell-bent on a Christian ceremony, I’m a Druidic priest.”

Blood rushed into Hulda’s cheeks.

“Really?” Merritt sounded delighted by the idea. “You’ve license to marry?”

“I do.”

Hulda opened her mouth. Closed it. Glanced from Sean to the hawk, to Sean, to Owein, to Merritt, and back to Sean. “I ... That is ... This is very unexpected ...”

Merritt placed a hand on the small of her back. “It’s all right, Hulda. It’s just a jest.”

Another bubble popped.

“No.” She stood straighter. “No, it wasn’t.”

Merritt met her gaze, questioning.

She turned to him. “I want to marry you, Merritt. I regret not doing it sooner. Like you said ... why not now?” She laughed at the ridiculousness of it. A younger Hulda would have fainted at the prospect! “It doesn’t change the wedding details back home. Why not simply ... elope?”

She could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. Judging by Merritt’s expression in the evening light, neither could he. Was it too forward of her?

Then she realized something else, and disappointment cooled her fervor. “Though I suppose it’s not the best choice, having a wedding anniversary on the eve of your birthday.”

Merritt startled. “My birthday?” He paused. “My goodness, it is my birthday tomorrow, isn’t it?” He laughed, glancing at Sean. “I’m not used to celebrating it.”

The sentiment, given in jest, saddened her. “Well, it is. And it wouldn’t be wise to congest holidays.”

“Honestly, Hulda”—his blue eyes twinkled—“there’s nothing I’d want more.”

She searched his face. “Truly?”

He grasped both her hands in his; a slip of light from the window glinted off the pearl in the ring, almost like an omen. “Truly and absolutely,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers.

She grinned; she couldn’t help it. “And you won’t hold it over my head in years to come?”

“You know what?” He pulled back. “Now that I think about it, I was mistaken when I told you my birthday. I’m certain it’s in February. So there’s no issue.”

She laughed. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. The bubble in her chest grew overlarge, making her feel like she might float away.

Sean asked, “Is that a yes, then?”

Pulling a hand free, Hulda wiped the tear. “I mean ... if it’s no trouble—”

“Absolutely yes.” Merritt squeezed her hand.

Sean rubbed his hands together and looked around the barren room. “Let’s see here ... normally we’d do this under an arch—”

Hulda jumped as the room around them warped, a chunk of the ceiling coming down and turning a brilliant shade of green, taking on the shape of an arch over their heads.

Owein started shaking a moment later. His doing, then.

Her cheeks were hurting, she smiled so widely. Everyone was smiling. Merritt was smiling at her . Even the hawk seemed jubilant.

From his pack, Sean pulled out an ordinary roll of twine—or perhaps candlewick, Hulda couldn’t be sure. He used a knife to cut a long length, then had Merritt and Hulda hold right hands. He looped the twine around them, starting at Merritt’s elbow and ending at Hulda’s. He then put a hand on either of their shoulders.

“As I bind your hands, so are your lives bound in a union of love, trust, and devotion. Like the stars, your love should be a constant source of light, and like the earth, a foundation from which to grow.”

Another tear formed as Hulda stared into Merritt’s beautiful eyes, crinkled as he smiled at her. This was not how she’d imagined this happening, not even when she was young and still full of hope for her future. Yet oddly, in this empty back room in LIKER’s headquarters, under the watch of strangers and a dog who used to be a house, she couldn’t think of anything more perfect.

“May this knot remain forever tied, and may your hands always hold one another. Hold tightly during the storms of life, and be gentle as they nurture one another. I summon the spirits of the four quarters of our world, that this binding may be blessed by the powers of all creation. So let it be, amen.”

Bowing his head, Sean moved his hands down Hulda and Merritt’s joined arms, bringing them together over their hands. He squeezed once, then released them. “It is done.”

Hulda’s heart swelled to bursting. “Done? We’re ... married?”

“Under Druidic law and any state recognizing it, yes.” Sean winked.

With the hand still bound to hers, Merritt tugged her forward and sealed the ceremony with a kiss on her lips. Hulda thought she’d melt into a puddle right there. Surely this was a dream! Things like this didn’t just happen , and certainly not to her.

But when Merritt pulled back and Hulda opened her eyes, her world was just as jubilant as before she’d closed them.

Turning to Sean, Merritt said, “So we can never take this thing off, right?” He held up their bound hands.

Sean chuckled. “I would save the string, for sentimentality. And for now”—he scratched behind Owein’s ears—“I will take this one off your hands.”

Remembering herself, Hulda said, “Noon, Owein. Please. And contact us if anything goes awry.”

“He knows,” Sean and Merritt said in unison, then exchanged a knowing look.

“Right.” Hulda hesitated, then quickly unwound the string binding her hand to Merritt’s as Owein restored order to the makeshift arch. She might have stepped halfway into a fairy tale, but she was still mistress of this place while Mr. Walker was in Constantinople, so she escorted Sean, the hawk Fallon, and Owein into the hallway and down the stairs, thanking Sean repeatedly for coming to them and caring for Owein, and for the ceremony, and again for Owein. She saw them out the door, then watched them go down the street, ensuring they were well. The three of them easily blended with the crowd. And Sean was such a large man—he would be able to fend for himself, magic aside. And Owein! He could certainly take care of himself. He’d disintegrated an entire carriage earlier that day. Hulda really shouldn’t worry.

She did worry, a little. Caught herself wringing her hands on the way back upstairs to the room where Merritt was looking out the window in the same direction Owein had gone, keeping a watchful eye just as she had.

Hulda closed the door gently behind her. “So.”

He turned back from the window, a rueful smile on his face that instantly put her at ease. “So, Mrs. Fernsby. This has been a delightful turn of events.”

She held his eye and crossed the room. “Indeed.”

She only needed to lift her face to invite his lips to hers, to truly memorize them—their shape, their warmth, the way they flitted across hers. Feeling courageous, Hulda nipped at him, earning a soft growl and both his hands at the small of her back, pulling her in closer, then closer , to him.

Abruptly, she broke the kiss, grabbed his collar, and pushed him onto the bed.

He snorted. “Well then.”

“I,” she stated, pulling hairpins from her hair, “have waited a very long time for this, Mr. Fernsby. I do not see the point in dallying.”

A familiar mischievousness smoldered in his expression. “I’m sorry, was that dallying? I don’t think I received the schedule for tonight’s events.”

“You don’t need one.” She placed her hairpins on the side table and shook out her hair, delighted by the way Merritt’s gaze darkened when she did. She proceeded to undo the buttons on her dress, Merritt’s eyes glued to her every movement. It sent warm shivers up her spine.

This was really happening, wasn’t it?

She was utterly exultant at the fact.

Pulling down her sleeves, she asked, “Now, are you going to remove your trousers, or should I?”