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Ben drops the curtains back into place and turns to me. “He’s one of mine.”

“One of yours?” I peer through the curtains again.

“I wasn’t about to steal pills worth millions of dollars from Gibbons and leave Quint’s house unprotected. I hired them to help the men Quint rounded up.” He takes a deep breath and looks down at me. He reaches for my hands. “Clara, about the other night…”

My heart catches in my throat. I hadn’t expected this conversation so soon. I can’t have this conversation now when it’s difficult to push aside my longing to stay in the past. I try to picture going home with him, building a life together, a honeymoon in Europe. Quint invades all of those thoughts, and I can’t guarantee he won’t always.

A knock on the door saves me from answering. I share a look with Ben before calling, “Come in.”

“Clara, Ben’s not in his room and—” Quint halts when he sees us, his face reddening.

Ben drops my hands from his and turns to face Quint, his shoulders tight. “What is it?”

“Mr. Perry would like to speak with you.” Quint turns to someone in the hallway. “He’s here … Do you mind if he comes in?” he asks the room in general, not really addressing either Ben or me.

“No,” we both answer together.

A moment later, a conservatively dressed man passes by Quint and strides into my bedroom. His attire, besides a pristine white shirt, is black, including the hat between his hands.

“Mr. Mitchell.” He nods to Ben and then does the same for me and Quint, who nods back at him. Though his clothes remind me of a G-man from an old black-and-white movie, I like the intelligence I read in his eyes and the fine lines around them, as though he smiles often.

“What have you heard?” Ben asks.

“The man we have watching the house says Gibbons kicked up a fuss when he discovered the theft. He took a cab in this direction a quarter of an hour ago.”

My heart stutters to a halt. Ben, however, grins with triumph. “Good work. That’s more time than I bargained for.”

I look between the two men, flabbergasted. “Now how can you possibly know when he left the house?” I ask.

Ben smirks. “You’ve been told many times, Clara. I’m very rich.”

Mr. Perry chuckles. “We know the cab drivers who work in that area, miss. They informed my men.”

“Amazing…” I shake my head.

“Ready your men, Mr. Perry. I want them to disappear, but be prepared for action,” Ben orders. Mr. Perry nods and marches back through the door he came. “Quint, have Mrs. Barrow take all the women to their rooms and stay there until we give them word. Have your men armed and ready.”

Quint nods crisply and leaves, Ben in his wake. I follow them out into the hall.

Ben whirls on me. “The last time I checked, Clara, you were a woman.”

“You think I’m staying in my room?” I ask haughtily, my ire rising. Ben raises an eyebrow in reply. “Are you kidding, Ben Mitchell?” I cry. I hold up a foot. “No heels to stop me now, and if it weren’t for me, you might not have found Gibbons here in the first place. At what point will you be convinced I can help, or do you only have nice words for when you want to placate me? No actual trust.”

He rubs the bridge of his nose, weariness etched into his features. “Clara, it’s not about your capability.”

“I’m not staying in my room.” I lift my chin in defiance.

“This is as dangerous as it gets. It’s not a game. Go back to your room.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Do you like 1938, Ben? Suppose I don’t send you back.”

He laughs. “Don’t try to bluff me. Go on back to your room like a good girl.”

He’s teasing me, trying to ease the rising tension, but I won’t capitulate now. “No.”

Ben glances over at Quint, who hesitates in the hallway, possibly waiting for the argument to end in Ben’s favor. Ben huffs and strides toward the stairs. “Suit yourself, darling.”

Quint casts him a betrayed glare before turning to me and holding out his hands in a pleading gesture. “Clara…”