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The chairs rose back to the surface, and the floor solidified. Hulda sat on the chair closest to her, smoothing her skirts. “Perhaps because he’s no longer being tossed out.”
“I have no intention of tossing out any of you,” he said, taking up the chair closest to her, with only a small table between them. “I’m already working on my next argument to convince you to stay.”
Hulda tried to ignore the fluttering the words started in her gut, and this time she did a fairly good job of it. She had a history of misinterpreting words, and given that she was somewhat emotionally compromised with her client, she knew the likelihood of misinterpretation was high. Besides, she understood precisely how Mr.Fernsby felt about her—he’d said so himself: he was used to her. Humans liked comfort and disliked change as a matter of course.
“I sent inquiries to England,” she confessed, listening for Miss Taylor and Mr.Babineaux. While she could use a confidant, she didn’t want the entire household nudging into her affairs. “To establish whether he is still imprisoned and ensure that, either way, he hasn’t immigrated here. Once I know that, I can put it behind me.”
“But if hewerehere,” Mr.Fernsby spoke carefully, “he wouldn’t find you.”
She shook her head. “I doubt it. BIKER wouldn’t release such information to a private citizen. Assuming hedidget out of prison, I’m sure he would prefer to get on with his life than seek me out. He won’t have been released, though.” She swallowed. “He’ll be behind bars for the rest of his days.”
“For misuse of magic?”
She sagged into her chair. “You do have a remarkable memory, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “When things are interesting.”
“I am not a storybook, Mr.Fernsby.”
“I never said you were.” His tone was completely serious.
She ran her thumb along the groove in her armrest. “Mr.Hogwood had developed some sort of method for extracting the magic out of another person.”
Mr.Fernsby stiffened. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. He has an impressive pedigree. His parents were both members of the Queen’s League of Magicians—King’s League then. He used some sort of combination of magic to take spells from others. I know he did. He was crazed with it. Secretive. I saw it happen.”
Mr.Fernsby paled. “You saw it?”
She lifted her hands, then let them drop to her lap. “I ‘saw’ it happen in Mr.Hogwood’s tea leaves. I watched him take a local hysterian who hadgone missing, and...” She shuddered, suddenly sick to her stomach.
To her shock, Mr.Fernsby reached over and clasped her forearm. His touch was remarkably warm, and the darkness building in the base of Hulda’s skull dissipated with it. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
She rolled her lips together. Without pulling up the memories, she explained, “It isn’t pleasant, what he can do. It kills the person... shrivels them into something unidentifiable. He kept each of the bodies, and I saw the remains with my own eyes.”
She cringed. Filled her lungs to bursting. “That said, I just want to make sure it wasn’t him—”
A startled“Oof”reached their ears.
Mr.Fernsby stood. “What was that?” He passed her an apologetic glance and crossed into the reception hall, Hulda hurrying after him.
The front door was open, Miss Taylor standing just outside of it. She had a small rug rolled up and slung over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide enough to show the whites all around her irises.
“Miss Taylor?” Mr.Fernsby asked.
She tentatively reached her hand toward them, only to have it repelled, as though striking glass.
“What on earth?” Hulda crossed to her, hand out, and met the same “glass.” She followed it upward and downward, but it covered the entire door, forbidding her to leave and Miss Taylor to enter.
“Owein, let her in,” Mr.Fernsby called.
Unease wound from Hulda’s hips to collar. “Owein isn’t doing this.”
“Pardon?”
She turned to face him. “His abilities lie in alteration and chaocracy. This is wardship.”
Brows drawn, Mr.Fernsby joined her at the door and rapped his knuckles upon the invisible shield. “Perhaps he merely hasn’t done it until now.”
