Spellmaker

Elsie couldn’t help but smile at the kind sentiment. “Thank you.” She swallowed. “They’re not all gathering around the church, are they?” They were to have a very small wedding. Elsie wouldn’t have agreed to announce it in the paper if not for the need to make a show for Lord Harold Astley, the magistrate who had agreed to release Elsie from prison. She couldn’t regret that they’d done so, of course, for it had brought Reggie to her.

Emmeline looked away. “Well, they are curious. Oh, Elsie. Deep breaths.”

Elsie did as told. A few gulps of air later, she said, “Merton is still out there. Master Raven could decide to pop in at any time. Master Phillips has been released from his spell . . . Surely Merton has taken over a new lackey by now. And he or she will show up and murder us all.”

“Elsie—”

“He’s not going to be there,” she said, throat constricting. “I’m going to show up, and they’ll ring those church bells, and he won’t be at the end of the aisle. And the whole town will see, and I’ll be humiliated.”

Emmeline set down the basket and took both of Elsie’s hands in hers. Elsie’s fingers were ice; Emmeline’s were as warm as freshly baked bread. “You are a silly woman. The way he looks at you . . . There’s no way he won’t be there. I saw him leave for the church myself this morning.”

Elsie squeezed her friend’s hands. “There’s still time for him to change his mind.” It would wreck her if he did. She’d become a recluse. Never leave the house. Perhaps adopt a cat.

Her hopes had gotten so high, despite her best efforts to contain them. She wouldn’t survive the fall this time. Not with Bacchus.

Emmeline kissed Elsie’s cheek. “It will be a beautiful wedding. And short.”

Elsie filled her lungs to bursting and nodded. It would be brief. The customary dinner was to have taken place at Seven Oaks, but they’d cut it from the program given the uncertain situation with the duke and duchess.

“You look beautiful, and the dress is perfect,” Emmeline assured her.

A soft laugh escaped Elsie’s mouth. She pushed off the wall, standing of her own accord. “I suppose if something horrible does happen, staying in here isn’t going to stop it.”

“It will only stop good things from happening. Come, now. They’re waiting for you.” She grinned. “He’s waiting for you.”

Elsie nodded and let Emmeline pull her from the room.

Please let it be so. Please. Please. Please.

The church wasn’t far from the stonemasonry shop, so there was no point in hiring a carriage, though Elsie did not like walking down Main Street garbed like a bride. She hadn’t yet put on her veil, and she ignored the few looks she got, keeping her eyes straight ahead. The light exercise helped steady her. Maybe Emmeline was right. Maybe this would all go off without a hitch. Maybe she’d get a happy ending like in her novel readers. Maybe.

They entered through the tower, and the church bells began ringing as Emmeline pinned Elsie’s veil to her hair. Elsie’s nerves cooled and ran from her shoulders to her feet, raising gooseflesh beneath her dress.

Emmeline gently pinched Elsie’s cheeks, bringing some color into them. Then, with an encouraging smile, she hurried into the nave to spread her flowers before sitting down. It was tradition, ensuring a happy path for the bride.

Elsie licked her lips. Took another breath.

The church bells ceased, and the church sounded eerily silent in their absence. She hadn’t asked for a choir to fill the empty space. She’d been too convinced something would happen to prevent . . . well, this.

She gripped her simple bouquet, made of twelve white roses. The flowers had been nearly as expensive as the dress.

If he’s there, everything will be all right, she thought, approaching the door to the nave. If Bacchus is there, then even if Merton appears, or a spellmaker with a knife, or Raven himself, it will be all right.

Please, God, let him be there.

Surely Emmeline would have rushed back out to warn her if he weren’t.

The organ music started. Heart thudding against her ribs like a battering ram, Elsie waited until a boy no older than ten opened the door to the nave. The aisle leading to the altar was lined with white rose petals. Most of the pews were empty, as was to be expected. Her gaze traveled down it, finding Ogden, the clergyman, the parish clerk, and—

Bacchus.