Reaper chuckled, flipping his coin into the air and catching it on the back of his palm.
Then he was gone. Just like that. Maxen didn’t even have to glance over his shoulder to confirm it—Reaper had been vanishing like that since he found him.
Still, his words held fast. Twisted.
He shook his head, refocused his attention.
However, Peregrine was gone.
As was she.
He cursed under his breath, low and vicious. When was the last time thoughts had distracted him to the point that he couldn’t damn well notice that his prey had slipped from his sight? Never. Until now.
He strode to the place she’d stopped, not bothering with caution as he approached the place she’d stood only moments ago. No trace of her remained. Not her scent. Not a damn footprint. Just the memory of that damn smile she’d given Peregrine.
A trifling thing. Nothing of consequence.
Yet it pressed upon him all the same.
Perhaps his brothers had a point. Perhaps he did have a certain look about him. Perhaps he should step back and let them hunt for the owner of the slipper and pry into his tenant’s affairs. But he couldn’t look away from her anymore. Even if she wasn’t the owner of the slipper, she was hiding something, and since she lived under his roof,thatroof, he couldn’t look away anyway.
And the devil take it, he had no desire to either.
Chapter Five
The prickles alongthe nape of her neck had vanished for a while, only to burst across her skin again when she and Mr. Peregrine reached her shop. Fortunately, the man hadn’t tarried and left right after escorting her over. As much as she questioned his motives after yesterday, it was hard to hold onto them when he acted like a proper gentleman.
Let’s not think about that right now.
She placed her reticule on the counter, scratching Prince’s head when he jotted over, before retrieving the two letters she’d received. One was from Mr. Fitz, who kept her abreast of her matters in London. The second was from Clemence, her former maid, keeping her informed of any developments in her old household.
She quickly skimmed over Clemence’s one first.
Oh. So Duvessa was still raging day and night about her disappearance but had stopped sending footmen all over London in search of her. She now believed her stepdaughter had run off to Wales or Scotland.
Calliope’s mood lifted.
This was exactly what she and Mr. Fitz had wanted. Now all she had to do was wait for her solicitor’s response to her own enquires about her landlord, the lease, and what might have happened to Mr. Rollings.
The bell above the door jingled.
Her whole body jerked. Calliope braced for a shadowy figure in black, but instead, a young woman wearing soft green muslin stepped inside, her cheeks flushed and her lips curved in a bright, guileless smile.
“Good morning!” She glanced over the shelves in open delight. “It smells like heaven in here.”
“Thank you,” Calliope murmured. “Feel free to have a look around.”
The girl nodded. “I walked by three times before deciding to come in. Your window display is charming. Are those... violet candles?”
“They are.”
“Well, then I must have a bunch. I have a friend with the same name, so I must gift them to her for her birthday.”
Calliope’s mouth curved despite the tightness that formed at the wordfriend. It was one of her biggest dreams to meet a friend here in Brighton. “That seems like sound logic.”
“I certainly like to pretend it is.” The woman stepped toward the shelves, running her fingers along the bundled sets. “It’s so lovely in here, unlikesomeplaces. Warm. You can instantly tell great care has gone into every element of the shop.”
“I try,” Calliope murmured, heat spreading across her cheeks. She took great pride in her candles and shop, and no one had ever complimented her like this.
