A Touch of Mistletoe (21 page)

"Yes, that is quite the problem," Kingston said quietly. Going to the authorities was rather impossible when Lord Elmhurst's father was High Master of the Office of Safety and Security. Everyone knew Elmhurst was the worst of reprobates, and everyone equally knew there was nothing to do about it—save by those people who simply
wouldn't
do anything. "Do you know when Elmhurst slipped him the love potion?"

Hux nodded. "A week ago, when Lord Oswald attended a small soiree being hosted by Lady Hempstead. Lord Elmhurst spilled his drink and offered to get a fresh one. I was not present at the time; I would have told Lord Oswald not to drink the da—not to drink it. But he did, and for the past week he's been increasingly friendly toward Elmhurst. I did not notice at first because it was all little things and I have been busy with the taxes, but yesterday he agreed to go for a ride in the park, and this very morning he told me to personally deliver a note inviting Elmhurst to join him for a private supper tonight. I did not deliver it but came straight here." He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small object wrapped in paper. "I remember hearing that you could test for it if you had blood? His manservant saw to it he was nicked shaving this morning and gave me the handkerchief he used to clean it up."

"Excellent," Kingston said and took the handkerchief. "Let me give this to Eliza." He rose and hastened back to the front of the shop. "Eliza!" She turned from the customer she was speaking with, giving them a soft apology, and looked at him. Kingston held out the kerchief as he reached her. "Test this for me, would you?"

She nodded, taking the handkerchief without a word and turning back to the customer. Kingston returned to the backroom and resumed his seat.

"I feel like I should have noticed much sooner than I did," Hux said, hands balling into fists where they rested on the table. "He is my closest friend, whatever professional divide society erects between us. I should have realized."

Kingston reached across the table, took one of Hux's hands, and rubbed his thumb over the knuckles. "One of the worst aspects of that type of love potion is the slow creep. Please, do not berate yourself. They are designed not to be noticed. You are to be commended for figuring it out so quickly; most do not until too late."

Hux stared at their hands, then slowly looked up, eyes dark and sad. "I was still half-afraid that I was overreacting, but it is better to overreact and be wrong than not react at all and realize too late you were right. Can he be saved? I know such potions are complicated, but I don't really understand why. I do not want Oswald to come to further harm…"

"Love potions fall under what we call potions of absolute manipulation; every last one of them is banned by the High Council, and using them is a grade five offense. If Elmhurst did indeed use a love potion, which it sounds like he has, then even he cannot wriggle free."

"So what do we do?" Hux asked.

"I need to file an emergency report with the Office of Potions, and they will assign a Master Inspector to supervise the matter. After that I am free to act since potions like this must be dealt with quickly. Negating a love potion is actually two-fold: the potion to cancel it, and another to recover fully from the effects. Potions of absolute manipulation are brutal upon the mind. Mental and emotional recovery can take anywhere from days to weeks, sometimes even months. Please do not worry. As early as you have caught it, I have every reason to believe that Lord Oswald will recover without long-lasting effect."

Hux nodded. "Thank you." His eyes fell to the table, but after a moment he looked up again. "I—perhaps I should not speak of certain—uh—"

"Speak freely, unless it makes you uncomfortable to do so," Kingston said softly.

"I'm glad you are the potion master helping me. I trust you, even if we've never properly met until now. I always wondered what you did outside of Acacia."

Kingston let out a small laugh, mouth quirked as he replied, "I have always wondered about you, but it is not the kind of thing we're supposed to discuss, and I did not want to presume more than was offered. But I am happy to know you outside Acacia." He cleared his throat and stood before he said more than he should. "Now let me get the paperwork so we can take it to the Office of Potions and get to work."

He strode briskly from the room, back to the front, and headed straight to his desk, rifling in the cabinet behind it for the forms he needed. Eliza approached him a moment later, handing over a form that had been filled out in her tidy hand. She set it and what was left of the handkerchief on the corner of his desk. "False Heart confirmed, Kingston."

"Thank you. I am handling the paperwork now, then I will return to make the counter potions. I am not to be disturbed until further notice."

"Of course," Eliza said and bustled off back to work. Kingston smiled briefly; when everything had calmed down, and the holidays were past, he would have to recommend her for final testing. He would hate to lose her, but she deserved to be a master.

Pulling out the forms, he sat down and filled out all that he could, then carried the forms and pen with him as he returned to Hux. "Here we are, Master Huxtable. Just fill out the portions still blank." He went over to the stand by the door and pulled down his winter coat, a handsome wool piece dyed dark blue. It had cost him dearly but would hopefully last a long time—and he could certainly afford it now, far from the penniless student he had been more years ago than he cared to count.

Shrugging into the coat, he draped his scarf around his neck and tucked his gloves into a pocket, then sat and sipped at a cup of tea while Hux finished the paperwork. When it was complete, Hux tucked it away in a leather portfolio, slipped it into his satchel, and did up his scarf. He pulled on his gloves, gripped the satchel, and gestured to the back door. "Shall we?"

Hux nodded and pulled his own coat and gloves back on. Kingston pulled the door open and gestured  for Hux to precede him out, trying not to notice his rose and civet cologne because it stirred distracting memories of a candlelit room and satin sheets, rose-scented skin gleaming with sweat, soft gasps and nails biting into his shoulders, tight heat, and pleas for
more, harder, want to feel it for days.

The cold air was a relief against his hot cheeks as he followed Hux outside. Snow had been falling all morning, had started even before he'd woken up. Foot traffic had whittled some of it from the streets and walkways, but it was falling down steadily enough not to make much difference. There were no carts and carriages about, and most everyone was walking in the middle of the street, where it was easiest to clear the snow away, though many shop owners had cleared away what they could from right in front of their shops.

Lamplighters had kept the lamps going for the day, which was good because though it was only two hours to midday, it looked as though suppertime was approaching. The Office of Potions was normally an easy twenty minute walk, but it took them nearly twice that.

When they arrived, the large, austere, brown, green, and gold building was oddly quiet. The usual offices to which he would take such a matter were closed, and only three of the many desks in the open area were occupied. But the quiet was a relief, since Kingston had not wanted to make a fuss in order to get past the lines. Approaching the nearest desk, noting the woman was actually a master clerk by the marks on her jacket, he pulled out the papers and presented them.

The woman's brows rose when she saw the blue line across the top, marking them as high priority. Brows and mouth turned down sharply as she read through the papers. Without hesitation, she retrieved one of several stamps resting on the right side of her desk. She inked it, stamped the bottom of the last paper, then signed with a flourish and handed them back. "You'll have to go across the street and get an inspector, but after that you are free and clear, Master Lockwood. Please file the necessary papers when the job is complete."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." Turning on his heel, he took Hux's elbow and led the way back out of the hall and across the street to the stern-looking, dark gray stone building that housed the Office of Safety and Security.

"Will they help us?" Hux asked. "Given it is their employer's son we suspect… it's only supposition at this point but even just the possibility…"

"Nobody hates him more than these people, believe me," Kingston replied. "They are the ones who must let people down, time and again, when they're forced to release Elmhurst. He makes betrayers of them, and no one in this building is happy about that. Any chance to stop him for good is one they'll gladly take."

The young man at the front desk gave them a look he probably thought was professionally suspicious but mostly looked like he'd bitten into something sour. "Can I help you, sirs?"

"Yes, it's a matter of some urgency," Kingston replied. "I need to speak with the Chief of Lords." He displayed the stamped papers.

The young man read over them, then blanched and hurried off still clutching them, disappearing through a door behind his desk. Kingston shook his head and turned to Hux. "At least all seems to be going smoothly. Sometimes it is the paperwork that kills, I vow it."

Hux laughed, bright and genuine. Kingston wanted to kiss him; he loved when he could get Hux to laugh. "You are complaining to a master secretary about paperwork?"

Kingston grinned. "At least you knew you were in for it. I was a fool and forgot about that part of owning a business."

They were both still smiling at each other like a pair of idiots when the door opened again, and the young man from before said in a quiet tone, his posturing gone. "The Chief of Lords will see you."

"Thank you," Kingston replied, levity vanishing as the gravity of the situation returned full measure. They followed the young man through the public access doors, a double set of heavy, frosted-glass doors simply marked with
Office of Safety and Security, Headquarters
in gold and black script.

Past the doors, the building was bustling with noise and activity as officials and visitors and criminals all mingled. A few paused to stare when Kingston and Hux walked past, but nobody waylaid them. The office of the Chief of Lords—properly, the Chief of Investigation of the Nobility—was mercifully quiet. The Chief himself was younger than Kingston expected, somewhere close to his own thirty-nine years.

He was pretty, with long, curly blond hair tied loosely back with a pink ribbon. He wore a dark pink jacket, a white and pink striped waistcoat, dark brown breeches and boots, and his nails had been painted the same pink as the ribbon in his hair. He took his seat behind the enormous desk that took up a good part of his small office and motioned them to the seats in front of the desk. The nameplate on the door had said
Chief Harold Potsworth
.

Potsworth rested his fingertips on the papers Kingston had handed over to the man at reception. "Master Lockwood, is it? And Master Huxtable. I could kiss you both for bringing me so fine a present, and on Frost Eve."

"I do not think this is a cause for celebration, Chief," Kingston replied coolly.

"No, it's not," Potsworth replied. "My apologies, I was not making light of the situation. Quite the contrary. I have been trying to put the despicable Lord Elmhurst in a cage for a very long time, but he always slips away like a well-oiled snake, no thanks to his father. My priority is of course for Lord Oswald, but I am hopeful that we will at last be able to do away with Elmhurst once and for all, thanks to such quick action on both your parts. Given the importance of the persons involved, and the trouble likely to ensue from this, I am supervising the situation personally. I hope that does not cause you additional stress."

Kingston shook his head. "On the contrary, Chief, it will be reassuring to have you along."

"Yes," Hux agreed. "I want Lord Elmhurst stopped, and if I have a Potion Master and the Chief of Lords tending the matter, I am much reassured. Thank you both."

"I'm glad we're all of the same mind. That happens less often than you might imagine. Let's be off, then. Time is of the essence." Potsworth did not wait for their reply, merely rose and crossed the office, threw the door open, and led the way through the building and back outside.

Outside, the snow had gotten even worse, falling heavily enough that it took them just over an hour to travel the short distance to Kingston's shop. When they finally reached it, Kingston did not bother going around to the back but went through the front door, nearly blown in by the wind that certainly had not been that strong when they'd first headed out.

Eliza jumped as the door flew open. "Kingston! Goddess have mercy."

"Eliza," he greeted. "Sorry for the start. The weather has grown quite wretched. Close up the shop, turn up the emergency lights, and go on home if you can, my dear. If not, you are, of course, welcome to stay here."

"I think I might," she said. "I wanted to speak with you anyway, once your current matter is resolved, and I'll never get home in this mess. I told my mother this morning I might get stuck here, so I'm accounted for. I'll just finish tidying up then go upstairs and leave you to your work."  She smiled at the other two as she bustled about tidying the front area and the counter, locking the door and turning on the blue light that indicated they would answer should someone have an emergency. "Oh, Ms. Coultress stopped by with a package—mistletoe to decorate the shop. She said it was a travesty a shop called Two Parts Mistletoe had none to spruce up the place properly for Frost Days." She lifted her eyes to the ceiling.

Kingston chuckled. "A pity that it is not potion grade mistletoe. I'll figure out something to do with it. Just leave it in the back room."

"What's the difference between decorative mistletoe and potion mistletoe?" Hux asked. "And why did you choose to name your shop after mistletoe? Doesn't it represent
luck in love
? Wouldn't that be bad, given love potions?"

Eliza made a face. "In terms of power, the mistletoe they use for decorating is like drinking water. Potion grade is like drinking a well-aged scotch. Regarding love, Mistletoe has nothing to do with love specifically. It's a foolish corruption of tradition that probably came from some potions apprentice running their mouth, though the misconception has been around so long now there's no proving it." She pushed back a strand of strawberry blonde hair, shoving it impatiently into the bun from which it had escaped.