Dora ventured further inside the house, inquiring for Lady Hayworth. The countess was not hard to find—she was in a dour sort of mood, as she had been informed of the Lord Sorcier’s presence at her door not a few minutes prior.
“The Lord Sorcier is calling, my Lady Hayworth,” Dora told her innocently, as though she had no idea that the woman was already aware. “I suppose I must invite him in for tea?”
Lady Hayworth gave Dora an incredulous look. “Surely you didn’t speak with him, Miss Ettings!” she said.
“Should I not have done?” Dora asked her. “My apologies. I was not certain what else to do.”
The countess pinched at her nose. “We shall not be rid of him now,” she murmured. “This is terrible. And his manners! I ought to turn him away regardless.” Still, the man’s reputation earned him a moment of hesitation, even from the formidable Lady Hayworth. “Yes, fine,” she sighed. “Bring him in for tea. If we are fortunate, he shall become bored with you in short order—but it hardly matters, so long as you pursue Mr Lowe’s charity work with enthusiasm.”
Dora nodded dutifully. “I will see if I can dissuade the Lord Sorcier’s interest,” she said. “I will be most unobliging with him.” This, Dora thought, might incline the countess to overlook any lapses in politeness between them.
Lady Hayworth nodded and drew herself up. “I shall have to chaperone,” she said. “Do not worry, Dora. I am capable of handling a scoundrel like the Lord Sorcier.”
I am not certain that you are, Dora thought to herself, as they headed into the morning room and called for a servant to let Elias inside. But I do look forward to seeing you try.
That said, it was most problematic that the countess decided to sit so near to Dora. The woman was very nearly hovering over her as Elias entered the morning room, with another broad scowl resplendent on his delicate features. “Lady Hayworth,” he said shortly, by way of greeting. “How little you have changed since our last interactions.”
The countess smiled evenly. “And you as well, my Lord Sorcier,” she said. “Though one might have expected you would improve your manners, given enough exposure to the beau monde.”
The French term made Elias narrow his eyes, and Dora wondered whether the countess had learned of his abominable French. “I cross myself against the day that I might become a pleasant-mannered man, Lady Hayworth,” Elias responded acidly. “Pleasant-mannered people are simply the worst sort of people. Decent people become properly angry when presented with miserable injustice, but pleasant-mannered people never do.”
The countess arched one cool eyebrow. “We could of course entertain your proclivity towards crass political discourse, Lord Sorcier,” she said. “But I was under the impression that you had come today for a somewhat less miserable purpose.”
Elias blinked and glanced towards Dora. “Yes,” he said. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “The lady and I have matters to discuss. But I see from your posture that you shall be hovering over us the entire time.”
Given the blunt atmosphere in the room, the countess didn’t bother to disagree. “The young lady is under my roof, and I shall therefore see that she is properly chaperoned,” she replied.
Elias narrowed his eyes at Lady Hayworth. He stalked towards the chair that was closest to Dora, and settled himself into it. “On the matter of divination,” he said to Dora, as though they might pick right back up where he had left off the evening previous. “I have dug a bit deeper into it, much as it has never been my preference.”
“Oh?” Dora asked him. “That is so kind of you. You didn’t have to go to such lengths to satisfy my fleeting curiosity.” Dora was not actually certain just why the Lord Sorcier thought that divination was relevant to her situation, but she thought it best nevertheless to give him an excuse for the discussion.
“Indeed,” Elias said. “It was even less enthusing than I remembered it to be. But it has its applications.” Dora saw for the first time that he had brought a leather bag with him, of the sort that a physician might carry. Elias opened the bag to extract a small silver hand mirror, which he offered out to her. “This is something akin to the mirror which you saw in John’s magic shop. The enchantments are actually quite simple, since they rely primarily on the capability of the person looking into the mirror.”
Dora took the mirror with a blink. “I wouldn’t know what capabilities I might have in that regard,” she said. “Certainly, I am not a magician, my Lord Sorcier.”
Elias settled back into his chair with a considering look. “Nevertheless,” he said. “I have humoured you, Miss Ettings. Now, humour me in return. What do you see when you look into that mirror?”
Dora glanced down at the reflection in the mirror’s surface. At first, she saw only herself—her rust-coloured hair was somewhat mussed, since she had prepared herself so hurriedly, and a few unfortunate freckles showed upon her nose. But in due time, the reflection faded to a yawning black, and Dora tilted her head at the mirror in her hands.
“You are not casting some sort of wicked spell on the girl, Lord Sorcier?” Lady Hayworth asked suspiciously. Her voice sounded suddenly far away, as though she were speaking from a distance.
“If I were, Lady Hayworth, to tell you so would make me an outright ninny,” Elias drawled. He sounded equally distant, and his low, melodious voice wavered strangely, as though it were a tuning fork. “But if you had even an ounce of magical knowledge, you would know that I hardly require a mirror in order to ensorcell a fragile young lady. In fact, I could do so from afar, as long as I possessed something that belonged to her.”
The black expanse within the mirror pulled back slowly. The Lord Sorcier’s face appeared
