Her abductor was following her, feet swift and sure. And truly, what hope did she have of escaping this man on his own property?
Tears flew from her eyes and caught in her hair. God help me. Help me!
She stumbled over a tree branch. Changed direction and rushed south, or what she thought was south. She barely made out a dip in the earth and managed to get over it without tripping. She could feel her foot swelling. Every other step was torture, like glass had wedged into the joints. Her skirt caught on something else, and she yanked it free, tearing more fabric. The trees grew thicker to the east, so she hobbled that way, trying to keep her steps light but knowing she was making a ruckus. She ducked behind one tree, changed direction, pushed between two more. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She couldn’t feel the toes on her right foot.
The ground evened a little, and she picked up speed, feeling like an injured deer with beagles on its tail. She grasped trees as she ran, trying to keep her balance as her foot screamed at her—
Two hands grabbed her.
“No!” she screamed, beating away at them. “Let me go!”
“Elsie!”
Everything stopped.
That voice.
That accent.
She blinked, tears running freely now. “Bacchus?”
He crushed her to him, and the scents of citrus and fresh-cut wood filled her senses. She clung to him, shuddering, weeping—
Then she ripped away and turned around, nearly falling to her knees. “He’s here. He was just here.”
Bacchus’s arm wrapped around her, his hand splayed across her stomach. He searched the dark wood around them. Elsie strained to hear.
Nothing but crickets and the breeze.
She swallowed. “I got out of the cellar, but he f-found me—”
“Let’s go,” he whispered, the words heavy and sharp. “While we have a chance.”
He tugged her south, and Elsie hissed, grabbing him for support. “I-I twisted my ankle—”
Bacchus bent down, and in one effortless swoop picked her up, holding her like a small child. She gripped fistfuls of his shirt—he didn’t have on a jacket or a waistcoat—and frantically searched the forest beyond his shoulder. There was no sign of her abductor. Had he managed to thwart Merton’s will after all, or had he seen Bacchus and determined it best to stand down?
Bacchus’s footsteps were long and swift. The ground turned downward, sloping into a hill, and she saw a road at the base of it, with a large horse tied across the way. The relief that burst through Elsie was nearly enough to make her lose consciousness.
“Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you, thank you.”
He was tense and silent as he strode across the road, glancing over his shoulder as he did. He mustn’t have seen anything, because he simply lifted her onto the saddle.
Elsie swallowed against a tight throat. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—”
“Elsie.” His tone was dark. “If you apologize again, I’m going to rip out my own beard.” Grabbing the horse’s neck, he swung up behind her, quick to take the reins and pull the horse away. They went straight into a gallop, taking off down the dark road, not even a lamp to guide their way. It wasn’t safe, especially not for the horse, but Elsie didn’t complain.
Finally, he said against her neck, “I was so scared I’d find you dead.”
The hairs on her arms stood on end. She leaned against him, head pressed into the valley between his neck and shoulder. She was so utterly terrified and so blissfully happy she barely knew how to feel at all.
“I saw him,” she said, just loud enough to be heard over the horse. “I saw his face. It was narrow, pointed—”
“Master Enoch Phillips.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“This is his estate,” Bacchus practically growled. “Blue eyes, severe features, gray hair?”
She nodded.
“Merton has perhaps the most powerful physical aspector in England under her thumb,” he said. “But she no longer has the element of surprise.”
“What will we do now?” she asked.
Bacchus’s arms tightened around her. “I don’t know.”
His breath was warm against her ear. Words pushed against her tongue—I love you. Thank you. I love you—but she swallowed them back down. She clung to his arms with both hands as they sped into the shadows, leaving her nightmare behind them.
For now, at least.
CHAPTER 17
They rode through the night, meeting Ogden on the road. It was late—past midnight, Elsie learned—and they were exhausted, but no one suggested stopping. They continued on to Master Hill’s house in London.
To think, the man who’d attacked Master Hill was the head of her own atheneum, Master Enoch Phillips.
Elsie still struggled to absorb that one.
After sleeping a few hours in Ruth Hill’s quiet home, they hired a carriage to take them the rest of the way to Brookley in the early-morning hours of Monday. Elsie, having no hairpins, settled on a braid over her shoulder and offered a prayer that none of her neighbors would notice her. She’d slept with her foot up, and the swelling of her ankle had receded, but she still couldn’t walk on it normally.
She was surprised to see a large trunk sitting in the middle of the studio upon entering the house.
“Ah,” Ogden said behind her, “Master Kelsey, it seems your things arrived while we were away.”
“Your things?” Elsie asked as Bacchus, fatigue marking his face, entered the room. Was that why he hadn’t changed after their visit to Master Hill’s home?
Ogden answered, “After your abduction and the attack, we decided it might be better to have two aspectors here instead of one. He’ll stay until the wedding. You will, unfortunately, have to give up your bedroom.”
Elsie blushed, though she really ought not to. It wasn’t technically improper.
Her second thought was relief that she’d decided not to keep her stolen opus spell under her mattress.
“Elsie!” Emmeline shrieked as she bolted into the studio and threw her arms around Elsie’s shoulders. Elsie nearly tumbled over, unable to properly balance with both feet, but she embraced her back, another wave of relief engulfing her. It brought her attention to the sleepiness in her joints. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back! What happened?”
“Too much.” Elsie pulled away and glanced to the men. “But what about Phillips?”
“Phillips?” Emmeline repeated.
“We’ll sort it out.” Bacchus ran his hand over his half beard.
Emmeline tugged on Elsie’s hand.
“I’ll tell you over a bath,” Elsie said, forcing a smile. “That is, if I might use it first.”
Ogden nodded. “Go on.”
Elsie allowed Emmeline to help her up the stairs, grateful for the care and affection of the younger woman. Sure enough, in her absence, Emmeline had already moved all of Elsie’s things into her room, which was the smallest of the three bedrooms the house boasted. Her bookshelf was crammed into the corner, the few items from her desk set neatly on top of it. Her clothes were in Emmeline’s wardrobe, her decorations on Emmeline’s shelves. The furniture—bed, desk, wardrobe—would stay in the other room for Bacchus.
Bacchus Kelsey was going to sleep in her bed.
Soon enough, she would be sleeping in his.
Her face heated. But the idea felt strangely hypnagogic, like it was still just a hope, not something that was actually going to happen.
Emmeline, blessedly, lugged in the copper bath and filled it. Elsie didn’t wait for all the water to heat on the stove downstairs—lukewarm was fine with her. She stripped off her clothes, careful to conceal the opus spell in the boning of the corset. All the while, she told Emmeline everything. It was so liberating, being able to just speak the full truth to another human. She’d been keeping secrets for so long they’d become a part of her.