“Viv—”
She turned away, feeling suddenly too vulnerable. She hated being afraid, hated the creeping sense of dread that was taking over, hated that the whole night had been a dangerous waste. She was too exposed again, the cold air shivering against every inch of bare skin, and she yanked the blanket off the bed to wrap it around her shoulders.
“Viv—”
She felt his hand on her arm, and she stood up abruptly, wincing as her bad ankle throbbed under the sudden weight. But even that couldn’t pull her back to him.
“We’ve got nothing,” she said, her voice catching. Swallowing against the knot that had tightened in her throat, Vivian took a shaking breathand tried again. “Double exes means gambling. That’s what the private party was. And Rokesby was in a game when Buchanan died. It couldn’t have been him.”
“Well, maybe he…” She could hear the desperation in Leo’s voice, could picture him trying to come up with something, anything, that would convince her not to worry. “He could have still been the one with the poison. You said they might have been different people.”
“Maybe, but I’m not being accused of poisoning anyone.” Vivian’s hands shook where they clasped the blanket against her chest. She didn’t turn to look at him. “And I can’t prove it either way. I’ve got nothing.”
The silence behind her felt like another person in the room with them. At last, she heard the bed creak as Leo shifted his weight to stand. She waited for the feel of a hand on her shoulder, an arm around her waist, not sure whether she wanted the touch or if she would pull away again. But he didn’t come toward her.
“Well, then, we’ll keep looking, right?”
He didn’t say that they were nearly out of time. He didn’t mention Honor Huxley.
Vivian didn’t either. “Why don’t you head to the washroom while I get changed?” she said instead, turning around, still clutching the blanket closed with both hands. “I’ll get a bed made up on the floor for you.”
For a moment, she thought he would protest, that he would pull her into his arms and hold her close enough to feel the thump of his heart against her own. She stared at him with wide eyes, silently hoping that he would come to her. If he did, she could lean on him again. She could let him convince her, at least for one more night, that everything would be okay.
“Leo.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper as she reached for him.
But he was already turning away and didn’t see. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. “Back in a jiff.”
By the time he came back, locking the door behind him, Vivian was curled up in bed, the covers pulled high enough that he wouldn’t be able to see her face. She listened to the sounds of him moving around in the near-dark, settling at last on the floor next to the bed, where she’d laid out a pillow and quilt for him.
“Night, Leo,” she whispered.
“Night,” she heard him sigh.
She could feel tears burning against the back of her eyes, but she didn’t cry. Vivian had rules, and she didn’t believe in crying.
TWENTY-FOUR
Two Days Left
Vivian tried to slip out for work the next morning without waking Leo up. But he lifted his head when she tripped over the burlesque costume, which she had left in an unhappy pile next to her bed after yanking it off the night before.
“Why are you up already?” he asked, yawning. “Isn’t it Saturday?”
“Working deliveries today,” she said softly, hoping he’d just go back to sleep. She wasn’t in the mood for company. With one foot, she shoved the beautiful tangle of silk and spangles under her bed. “You should go back to sleep.”
“Nah, I’ll get home then,” he said through another yawn, rubbing his eyes as he sat up, then dragged himself to his feet. “If you’re headed to the washroom, bring back some water? I’m going to keel over without coffee.”
He made enough for both of them, and Vivian nodded her thanks when he handed her a mug. But she didn’t say anything, and he didn’t either.
That was good. She didn’t want to talk about what happened between them the night before. It hadn’t been a fight. It had been… She didn’t know what to call it, or which one of them it had come from. But the careful way they were watching each other this morning felt like stepping on a puddle that should have been frozen over, only to feel cracks growing beneath her feet. If she moved, if he spoke, she didn’t know if they would stop or spread, and she didn’t want to risk finding out.
She wanted to believe that, whatever it was, they’d fix it once the Buchanan mess was sorted out. But after last night, after realizing Rokesby couldn’t be the one they were looking for, it was getting harder to convince herself that it would get sorted out at all. She wondered if Leo was realizing the same thing.
Vivian rinsed out their mugs and left them in the basin. “I’ve gotta get to work.”
Leo nodded, scooping up his coat and hat. He was still in his suit from the night before, still smelling of smoke and gin and cologne. “Lead the way.”
The streetcar he needed was on her way to Miss Ethel’s; it made sense for them to walk together. The silence hung between them as they walked, and Vivian didn’t want to be the one to break it. But she couldn’t help glancing at his face, only to find him stealing anxious looks at her too. Their eyes collided, and he looked quickly away. For a moment, Vivian felt so alone that she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to turn away and leave him there. Instead, she took a deep breath and reached for his hand.
