Wasthere something to worry over or was this feeling—this fear—a result of having lost him once before? He’d said he was going to speak with his uncle today, so this situation wasn’t entirely unexpected, but he hadn’t informed her that he would be leaving so early.
Still, if nothing was wrong, why had her heart dropped the moment her hand met the cold, empty mattress?
Daisy forced herself to breathe,to think, but her heart pounded a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She paced the length of the kitchen, torn between clinging to reason and surrendering to the gut-wrenching certainty that something was very, very wrong.
If Alastair was right about his uncle, then perhaps she had nothing to fear.
But if he was wrong…
The thought was unbearable.
“I need to go after him.” The words tumbled from her lips before she had fully processed them. It was likely too late to catch up with him, but standing here and doing nothing was impossible. There had to be something—anything—she could do. She’d figure it out on the way.
She turned on her heel, only to curse under her breath. “Drat it all, I need to get dressed first!”
Not waiting for Gilbert’s response, she tore up the stairs two at a time, barely registering the feel of the wood beneath her bare feet. Once in her chamber, she dressed with trembling fingers, pulling a plain gown over her chemise, skipping stockings altogether. Her hair remained unbrushed, but she shoved her feet into her half-boots and barely managed to button them before rushing back down.
Gilbert stood at the door, arms crossed, his jaw set with a stubborn determination.
“I’m coming with you,” he announced, his chin lifting in defiance. “I can afford to miss a day of school. I can’t afford to lose my sister.”
Something inside her softened. Her brave, wonderful brother.
“You’re not going to lose me,” she promised, though her stomach twisted as she said it.
She should have argued, should have sent him somewhere safe, but the truth was—if there was trouble at Alastair’s townhouse, she could send Gilbert for help. Her brother was young, but he was fit, and he was smart.
And, it seemed, he wasn’t going to back down this time.
Instead of protesting, she reached for Gilbert’s hand, squeezed it tightly, and nodded toward the door. “Come on, then.”
But when she opened it, her blood turned to ice.
Standing just outside were two men she’d hoped never to see again—the men who had tried to kill Alastair.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, her breath caught painfully in her chest. Thank God Alastair wasn’t here.
Whereas minutes before she’d wanted nothing more than to see his face, now, she desperately hoped he stayed away—long enough for her to outmaneuver these villains.
Summoning every ounce of composure, she plastered on her best shopkeeper’s smile. “Good morning, Officers.” Her tone was smooth, pleasant. Not at all like she was staring down two murderers. “If you’ll excuse me, I was just walking my brother to school. Perhaps you can return later today—I’ll be happy to provide you with samples of my newest gentleman’s soaps.”
“I’m afraid our business can’t wait.” The larger man blocked her path, his stance heavy with the sort of arrogance that made her skin crawl. “If you and your brother don’t mind stepping back inside.”
“Not at all, Officer…?” She tilted her head, playing the part of the polite, cooperative citizen. A good shopkeeper always remembered names, after all.
“Giles,” the shorter one answered. “And this is Officer Brown.”
Daisy nodded thoughtfully. “Always a pleasure to know with whom I am speaking.”
Brown scowled, looking impatient.
"Now, then," she said breezily, as though her entire body wasn’t coiled like a spring, "I’m happy to help, but my brother needs to get to school. He’s working toward perfect attendance, and he mustn’t be tardy over something that isn’t urgent."
Her voice dripped with good-natured authority, a tone that had tamed many a difficult customer.
“Run along, Gil,” she added, keeping her expression serene but sending him a look that could cut glass.
Get help.
