Maxen’s hand twitched at his side. He wanted to reach for her, to catch one of those tendrils of hair between his fingers.
He clenched his fist behind his back instead. His attention snagged on the way his coat dwarfed her again, an image he did not want lodged in his mind but suspected would never leave him.
Distance. He needed distance.
He just didn’t think he could bear it.
Chapter Nine
Calliope stared atthe mess of her shop. She’d been ushered next door so fast, she hadn’t gotten a proper look last night, but now, in the cold clarity of morning, she stood in the threshold, disheartened at the destruction.
The damage, she supposed, could have been worse.
Already, men were sweeping splinters and shards into neat piles. A new door stood propped against the wall, ready to be hung. Another man—broad-shouldered, sleeves rolled—was fitting fresh hinges into the frame.
Maxen Fury worked fast.
The response was rather impressive. Her landlord also hadn’t left her side once. No wonder he’d insisted on breakfast first. The man had everything under the thumb of his hand. Food had been delivered, workers had been enlisted, and Prince had been fed and taken for a morning walk.
“Oh, dear me!” a feminine voice exclaimed. “What on earth happened here?”
Calliope turned just as Holly the marchioness and Violet Sharpe entered her battered shop, their eyes wide and expressions caught somewhere between horror and curiosity.
“Are you all right?” Holly asked, stepping carefully over a stray shard of glass.
Miss Sharpe’s concerned gaze found her, too.
“I’m fine,” she assured them. “Honestly. It looks worse than it is.”
“You were robbed?” Miss Sharpe whispered, aghast.
“Marauded, more like,” Calliope said. “Late last night.”
Holly’s brows snapped together. “Did you catch the blackguard?”
“That’s... still being figured out.” She dared not say anything else, lest she provoke more questions from them she couldn’t answer. She still hadn’t gotten the whole story of how Maxen had come to spot and catch the intruder.
“How dreadful,” Miss Sharpe murmured. “And terrifying. Was anything taken?”
“Not that I’ve noticed.” Calliope shifted, hating to spin the truth. “But I haven’t done a full inventory yet.”
“And you were here when it happened?” Miss Sharpe asked, eyes darting round.
Calliope nodded. “Upstairs.”
“This is rather troublesome,” Holly said. “You must have been stricken with fear.”
“I had Prince.” She pointed at the dog, lying on his pillow, overlording the workings. “And my landlord fortunately came across the scene and dealt with it.”
“This is indeed troubling,” Miss Sharpe agreed. “I hope this isn’t a new trend in Brighton.”
Oh, right. She had her own store. Calliope wished she could set her mind at ease, but at the moment, she couldn’t do anything that wouldn’t reveal more than she dared. “I hope so too, Miss Sharpe.”
“Please, call me Violet, and you must not have slept a wink last night,” Miss Sharpe, Violet said. “You are more than welcome to...” she trailed off as her gaze landed on something behind Calliope. She glanced over her shoulder.
Or rather someone.
Maxen.
