“That’s nonsense.” She hadn’t liked Neville well before Perry had returned.
“It’s not if you think you can refuse to give me what’s mine. I won the card game. We had a bet. You owe me a tumble.” A hard glint shone in his eyes.
She shook her head. “I didn’t agree?—”
He took her by the shoulders, none too gently. “Not at first, but after the champagne, you did.”
It could be. Her memories of that night were confused. She took advantage of the fact that he’d moved from the door to make a dash for it. She slipped out of his grip and flung the dooropen. Breathing hard, she crossed the room towards the front door.
“Edith!” Daphne started to follow her. “What happened?”
She strode out of the flat and rushed down the stairs. Her pulse spiked. The bet was nonsense. Did he really expect her to have a tumble with him only because she’d lost a stupid card game while she’d been drunk? Well, good luck with that. She had more pressing matters to deal with.
She sped up along the pavement, fuelled by her frustration, to catch an omnibus to Belgravia. By the time it drove close to Belgrave Square, her breathing was normal again.
She didn’t have the money to pay back Perry. Knowing him, he wouldn’t want a penny, but that wasn’t the point. Paying for the painting was the first step towards owning back her life.
A bitter taste pitched up her throat as she climbed the short flight of stairs to his glossy black front door. A hint of fear, worry, and shame jumbled up together. But it was a necessary combination of feelings.
She rang the bell and waited, changing her mind a dozen times. Perhaps she should wear something else before talking to Perry, or write down what she meant to say, or she should stop being a coward.
“Madam?” The butler jolted her.
“Good afternoon. I wish to see His Lordship if he’s receiving visitors.”
The butler held the door for her, but his puzzled expression held disapproval. That was the second time that Edith had come unannounced to see Perry.
“Please wait here.” The butler left her in the entry hall. Bad sign? Perry might order him to kick her out.
She remained still, watching the comings and goings of the maids and footmen as they worked through the house.
“Where’s my stethoscope?” Dr. York said to no one in particular, coming out of a room. “I can’t find anything in this—ah!” He skidded to a stop upon seeing her, his glasses askew on his nose.
“Dr. York.” She gave him a quick nod. “Afternoon.”
He straightened his glasses, removed them, and put them back on again. “Miss Star… I mean Winkworth. I shall…” He flushed.
Oh, goodness. Edith sighed. He must have seen the Star Maiden.
“See, I’m searching for my telescope. No, what am I saying? I’m not an astronomer, but I was thinking about the… silly me. Ha-ha. Look at the time! Well, it was nice chatting with you.” He bowed and turned around in a hurry, only to hit the wall face first with a loud smack. A small painting hanging on the wall shook from the impact.
Edith cringed in sympathy as a phantom pain hurt her nose. “Are you all right, sir?”
“Yes, yes. Good day.” Without looking at her, he disappeared into a room.
Poor man. The Star Maiden must have shocked him.
She craned her neck to see if he came out again, but Perry thudding down the stairs distracted her.
“Edith.” He too came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs.
His sapphire eyes filled with surprise intimidated her; they lacked the usual sparkle.
“I’m sorry to trouble you, but I wondered if we could talk,” she said when he didn’t speak.
“Of course.” He went to the parlour on the ground floor. “I was thinking about you.”
Yes, she could easily believe that.
