Chapter Eleven
G riff had retreated to his laboratory hours ago to recalibrate himself. Having sex with Lou—twice, no less!—had proven unexpectedly dangerous to his peace of mind.
Mind you, he was no monk. He tumbled a willing woman when the desire moved him, and he’d even kept a mistress or two along the way. But never had he experienced such pleasure between the sheets; a pleasure that rivaled the thrill of a new idea or having solved a design problem in one of his inventions. He still found the similarity deeply disturbing. After he had grabbed a few hours of sleep after their early morning parting at The Market, he had slipped into his sanctuary to ground himself in his one true love—tinkering.
He’d just tightened a bolt on the improved steam-loom he’d been working to perfect off and on for months, and was about to fire the thing up for the first time to see how much faster it was than current looms, but froze with his stopwatch in hand when the steam whistle sounded. That was Higgins’ signal that Griff’s presence was required upstairs. Blast it.
With a frustrated sigh, Griff slipped off his leather apron, rolled down his sleeves, and donned his suit coat as he made his way back up to his library.
The fireplace had just slid back into place as Higgins knocked then announced his visitor. “Madame LaRoux to see you, my lord.”
Great Trevithick! What is she doing in my home in broad daylight?
“Lord Melton, I do apologize for dropping in unannounced.” Lou swept into his library, looking every inch the elegant lady, from her dazzling brown tweed riding gown trimmed with leather and brass toggles down the front, to her matching brown velvet top hat set at a jaunty angle.
She was simply stunning, and to his surprise, respectably clothed in a dress—not trousers. Perhaps it was less surprise, and more disappointment? In either case, she was in his library and looking ravishing.
Right. Words. “Madame, what an unexpected pleasure. Higgins, please send tea in for myself and my lovely guest.”
“Very good, my lord.”
As soon as he was alone with Lou, Griff asked the question burning on his tongue. “What the devil are you doing here in the middle of the day?”
“I am aware we discussed the need to be more circumspect regarding our acquaintance. However, it was brought to my attention this morning that the powers on high are already aware of our association.” She lifted both brows to emphasize her point, which struck him as odd that she wouldn’t simply say the words.
“Please, don’t be delicate on my account. What precisely do they know?”
She huffed in annoyance. “They are aware that you have engaged me as your mistress. There is little point in hiding our association. As it is not uncommon for known mistresses to visit their patrons in this day and age, I saw no reason not to come and share with you some information.”
Information? Now she had his utter attention. “Do go on.”
“As you know, I sent word that I required a meeting with my handler and our meeting was delayed. I finally met with him this morning.”
“And what did he tell you?” Griff’s frustration grew by the second as he waited for her to reveal something important.
“First, that he did not order your death—which we had already surmised—and he requested that we retreat from our normal activities while he attempts to discover who initiated our protocol.” She shared the request with an admirable calm, which was the absolute opposite of the anger he felt surging through his system.
“Retreat from our normal activities? He can’t be serious! Parliament is in session, I cannot possibly miss every vote.” Griff turned and stalked across the room, leaving Lou where she stood. Carding his hand through one side of his hair, he spun around and stalked back towards her. “Minor votes, certainly, fine—but there will be critical legislation I must vote on. And how could he reasonably expect me not to investigate who is trying to kill me?”
“Well, I dare say I understand his request, even if I have no intention of fulfilling it.” Lou shrugged one shoulder and walked over to take a seat on the settee near the fire without invitation. “Barring our retreat, he did ask that we be careful. He was also the one to point out that word was already traveling of our relationship.”
“I see. Well, I suppose it matters little if everyone knows I am alive and engaging in an affair with you.” Griff waved a hand to indicate that was of little concern, though was still upset over the request to stay out of the search for his would-be killer. “However, as you have indicated I shall do no such thing. Lie low indeed!” He paced about again, trying to sort through the little they did know. “By the by, what did your ladies glean from their time with my friends?”
Lou smiled. “Captain Colechester appears to have some questionable activities outside of his claimed profession of importer-exporter, but nothing that seems to indicate he might be connected to this plot in any way.”
“Excellent news.” Griff couldn’t ignore the relief that swept through him at the news. Cole, at times, felt like his last bastion of friendship—pirate or not. “And Dell?”
Her soft smile slipped from her face at his question. “Elena did not identify anything that… specifically suggests Dell is responsible, or even connected to this issue. But she did note he holds some concerning views on steam when compared to your voting record in Lords—and particularly when he is the Under-Secretary of Steam at the Bureau of Modern Technology, which you failed to mention last night, I may add.”
He sighed. “He chose to wear a mask, so I assumed he was looking for some level of distance from his official title, hence my leaving it off. As for the rest, I am well aware of Dell’s stance on steam technology. I suppose that is why they made him Under Secretary, to ensure that the person holding the position wasn’t such a supporter that they ignored any alarming activities.”
“Yes, well, I dare say I wouldn’t trust the man until more can be learned about his connections and associations,” Lou said quietly. “I might even discourage you from associating with him.”
Griff continued his pacing, struggling with the desire to be loyal to his friend in the knowledge that Lou spoke the truth. He shoved his fingers through his hair again and growled in frustration.
Fabulous. What else could go wrong?
The door to the library flew open as his mother sailed through the entrance in a bronze day dress with white ribbon trailing from her sleeves, and Higgins floating in her wake.
“Griffin darling, we must speak—I’m afraid Higgins must be getting a bit slapdash, the man tried to bar me from the house as though I were some ordinary visitor! Nonetheless, I need to speak to you about the Garden Association’s…Charity…Auction.” She stopped halfway across the room as Lou shifted on the settee in a futile attempt to be less noticeable.
“Mother.” Griff pinched the bridge of his nose and begged Trevithick for patience. Cog it all!
“Oh, I see you have a guest.” His mother turned to take in the sight of Lou on the settee, who was looking a bit pale. “Well, Griffin, aren’t you going to introduce me?”
Lou leapt up and curtsied. “Excuse me, my lady. I was just on my way out.”
The door to the library opened again and in walked his brother, grasping in his hand the latest gossip rag. “Bloody hell Griff, why must I read in the papers about your new bit o’—”
Griff cleared his throat loudly to stop his brother from saying anything further. Luckily, the fool looked up before he ran into their mother—but it was a close call.
“Oh, hello, Mother. Did you see the bit about Griff as well?” Piers kissed their mother’s cheek and plodded across the room to where Griff stood in shock.
“Bit about what?” she asked before turning to Lou with a smile. “I never read those gossip rags.” Then her head whipped back around to Griff as something seemed to occur to her. “Oh my! Could it be true?” The Dowager Countess turned toward Lou, clapped her hands, and rushed to where she still stood looking like a deer about to bolt. “You are a darling girl! Of course it must be true. You’ve caught my Griffin’s eye, haven’t you?” His mother turned to face him. “She’s the one you mentioned in the garden the other day!”
Griff winced, instantly regretting his small fib. Lou might have turned even paler at that point, but at that point, he was too focused on shutting his brother up to notice. “Piers, for the love of Trevithick, shut your trap.”
His brother complied, but by then it was too late. His mother had Lou wrapped in a warm embrace. “You young modern couples, did he even bother to ask your father for your hand? I should be furious that I am just meeting you, but I had given up hope of his marrying so I shall simply resolve to be thrilled by this turn of events, and not furious for you two hiding it from me.”
His mother let Lou go and stood back, beaming from ear to ear. Lou looked as if she’d just been run down by a steam locomotive, which the Dowager Countess of Melton had oft been compared to.
Lou blinked, her face a rictus of confusion. “I…I beg your pardon?”
“No need, dearest—oh.” His mother stopped for a moment. “I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know your name. Who are your people?”
Griff wanted to curse a blue streak, but there was little he could do, short of telling his mother this was his mistress; and for reasons he could neither explain nor did he wish to examine too closely, the truth might as well be steam vapor on his tongue. “Mother, please allow me to introduce Miss Louisa—” His gaze dashed wildly about the room for inspiration, which he found by the fireplace. “Bellows.”
His mother smiled through her confusion. “Miss Bellows?”
Griff moved across the room and took up reluctant residence at Lou’s side, banking on his mother’s manners, overriding her shock that Lou was not of the peerage. “Yes. She snuck in and stole my heart as we worked on legislation to help better the plight of women everywhere. She’s a truly progressive woman, though I am pleased she still agreed to marry me.”
The weight of Lou’s startled gaze had him reaching to tug at his collar and cravat. Steaming Hells! He should just tell his mother the truth right now. This was not going to end well.
It occurred to him in that moment that one or the other of the two women involved may at some point in the very near future throttle him over this. Oh, well. They’d have to argue it between them…
His mother looked flustered as she absorbed the implication that her eldest son’s fiancée was not of their social set. But, being the gracious woman he’d always loved, she pushed past the news quickly. “Well, I dare say my Griffin has always been unconventional.” She clapped her hands and beamed. “You both simply must come to dinner tonight. We can discuss the auction and I shall have a chance to become better acquainted with your betrothed. Poor woman, I hardly know you! We must correct that oversight immediately.”
Panic tightened the invisible noose about his neck until Griff could barely squeeze the words out. “I’m afraid—”
His mother put her hand up as though to stop the words he would speak. “I shall not take no for an answer, John Englebert Griffin. I shall expect you promptly at eight tonight. And you of course, my dear.” His mother strode over to the still frozen Lou, engulfed her in another hug, and then sailed from the room, leaving the three of them standing in stunned silence.
Piers broke the silence first. “Well, that is rather annoying. Apparently, I was not included in that invitation.” He sniffed in affront before stepping over to the scotch decanter and helping himself a drink.
Lou was gazing at Griff in utter horror. “What just happened?”
He sighed and dropped into his desk chair. “My mother happened.”
His new fiancée drew a breath then stormed over to his desk, where she leaned over it and glared at him. “I believe you just told your mother you were engaged to your mistress. To me .”
She all but yelled the last part as Piers sputtered and coughed on his drink. “You did what?”
Ignoring his little brother, she carried on, having finally gotten the steam flowing again. “And now we shall have to dine with her and continue to lie to her, because you failed to come up with some other contrivance to allay the confusion without telling her I warm your bed . This is an utter disaster!”
Griff rather agreed, and he’d like to blame his mother for jumping to conclusions and his brother for adding to the confusion by his absorption with the latest gossip…but in truth, the fault lay with him. He could have calmly told his mother Lou was a political acquaintance or some such, a wife of another lord, something, anything—and let her slip away. But when his mother had latched on to the notion of their engagement, despite the flare of panic, something deep and unexpected had warmed him to the notion.
Even as the intriguing woman stood over him, fuming with indignation and outrage snapping in her big dark brown eyes, he found her both beautiful and alluring in the most intense fashion. He found it quite startling to realize that he liked it: he liked the idea of possibly marrying her.
It was rather unfortunate that she was not as welcoming of the notion.
But perhaps with the need to keep up their little ruse for his mother, he could convince her otherwise? All the while, they could sort out who was trying to kill him. It would certainly permit them more time together in Society.
A capital idea . “Now, Lou. I know this is not what we had originally planned, but I believe it will work.”
Her brows flew up toward her hairline as her face turned a bright pink. “How—how could you think this is a good idea? I cannot be your fiancé! I am a Madame!” Her hand slammed down on the cherry-wood desk in punctuation of her declaration.
Not unlike a steam engine where the steam fueled the mechanism causing the pistons to fire, something else seemed to generate Lou’s visceral reaction. “It’s not as though we’ll actually get married,” Griff said bracingly. He’d never cared much about Society, or his title, or his position within the Ton, so being ostracized for a connection to a woman of Lou’s known profession wasn’t much of a concern for him.
If they learned he was The Lord of Cogs…well, that would go far worse for him than merely being engaged to a Madame.
“You won’t be getting married?” Piers looked wholly confused.
His question had both Griff and Lou turning to the interloper and yelling in unison, “Stay out of this!”
The man put up his hands as if to ward off their mutual verbal assault.
Griff drew a calming breath and reiterated his statement. “We need only bring my mother along for the ruse long enough to solve the mystery. Then we can break off this false engagement, call it irreconcilable differences, or you can blame me, whatever. Either way, we can spend all the time we need together and address the issue at hand.”
Lou stared at him for a moment then spun away, stalking over to the fireplace where she picked up the poker and viciously stabbed at the logs.
Piers leaned into Griff and once again spoke out of turn. “You sure you want to marry that one? She’s got quite a temper.”
Lou jabbed the poker repeatedly into a log.
“Seems a little violent, even.” Piers’ eyebrows rose.
Of course, his brother couldn’t do subtle, so Lou heard every word.
Griff took a long, deep, exhausted breath. “As I said, we shall not actually marry in the long run. But if I were to do so, I would consider Miss Bellows an admirably suitable candidate. Now Piers, please remove yourself from this discussion and my library. You’ve already heard too much.”
A touch of hurt softened his brother's familiar blue-gray eyes before he smartly bowed and departed the room.
Griff cursed and pinched the bridge of his nose again. “Why is it that nothing goes as planned in my life?”
“Perhaps it is poor planning on your part?” Lou suggested tartly as she returned to her seat on the settee.
A knock on the library door announced the arrival of Higgins with the tea cart.
Griff’s shoulders loosened. “Come, Lou. Let us take tea and see if we can sort this mess out.”
She nodded with what could have been resignation in her eyes. “Indeed, we need to discuss your cover story, now that you’ve created the most ridiculous story to tell your mother. I have learned sticking to the truth—or as close as you can, under the circumstances—is the best course. Far easier to remember.”
Griff hoped that was true, for he had a pit in his stomach that had nothing to do with the constant need that burned for her in his belly and everything to do with her discovering the truth.
Perhaps I should come clean? Tell her who I am?
He dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. If anyone discovered who he was, he would have far greater things to worry about than to whom he was engaged. He would likely lose his ability to function in Parliament—no one would negotiate with him—if he wasn’t forced to resign his seat entirely. As long as nobody knew he was the Lord of Cogs, that wouldn’t happen—and it surely couldn’t be related to the assassination attempt. Just in case, he would send a note around to his point of contact at the Tinkers, see if they had heard anything.
But first, he needed to convince Lou this would work. “Very well. We will stick to the story that we were working on legislation. How likely do you believe it that anyone might recognize you as Madame LaRoux?”
“I should think very few men would since, despite being a prominent figure in the house, I always wear a mask. For those that might, the question is, how likely are they to mention it? That I don’t know. Men wear masks at The Market far less than they once did. The sexual freedom of the steam age is real and has been good for business.” Lou shrugged.
“Assuming our ruse progresses far enough to force you into Society, I believe we brazen through it. Many will cut me out, but the truth is I haven’t moved around Society much at all in the last few years. I’d likely lose my membership at Boodle’s, but I think I’d be safe at the Athenaeum. They have suspended any morality clauses outside of working for the public good.” Griff watched her as she took in what he said. Would she agree?
She shook her head. “If we are to play this out and then break, I must insist you are the one to break it off. You will spurn me for taking another lover. I have no reputation to protect, whereas if I break with you, you and your family would be ruined in Society.”
“I’ve told you I have no care for Society. I never attend balls and I had—ahem, have—no intention of marrying. I plan to pass the title to my brother who will no doubt be captured by some debutante in the near future.” Griff’s gut tightened. It wasn’t totally a lie . He hadn’t planned to marry until he’d made up this fake engagement. “My family’s reputation will be maintained through Piers.”
Lou seemed to consider his earnestness for a long moment with a glare. “Do you want my cooperation or not, Griff?”
“Fine, I will break with you when the time comes.” He had to work hard to keep the grin from his face. Her demand worked in his favor, since he wanted very much to convince her to make this real. Now he had time to do just that.
“Good. Now, we should strive to keep this as private a matter as is possible. We need your mother to stay quiet about it long enough to go unremarked when we split.” She looked…well, satisfied, if not pleased.
“Agreed.” Although he highly doubted such a thing would be possible.
“Very well, I should return to The Market to change for dinner. To avoid you being seen with me there, I shall meet you here for dinner. We can take your carriage from here.”
“Oh course, dear.” He winked at her as she scowled at his endearment. Oh, this was going to be great fun wooing this woman.
Lou couldn’t believe she’d agreed to play his fiancée for Griff’s mother!
But somehow, by the end of tea, he had talked her around to the charade. It would at least keep her close to him, should another assassin be sent in her stead, something she could not yet discount.
And now she had to dress for dinner, and she had very few gowns that were suitable for supping with a dowager countess, let alone one’s faux future mother-in-law. Lou eyed the turquoise gown with a critical eye while Cordelia bustled around her laying out undergarments and other necessary items.
“It will do, as long as you tuck a bit of lace in the neckline,” her maid had nodded confidently. “Besides, the blue makes your eyes sparkle.”
Lou had still felt dubious about any of her evening gowns being appropriate for a countess, but Griff approved the choice heartily when she arrived to collect him for dinner. As they entered his mother’s townhouse, Lou’s trepidation increased.
That was, until Griff’s mother swept into the foyer to greet them with a huge smile and hugs all around. “I am very pleased that you came to dinner.”
Lou smiled, and it was genuine. “It was a gracious invitation in light of the afternoon’s surprises.”
“Mother has always been a beacon of kindness,” Griff offered as he swept Lou’s arm into the crook of his. “Are we starting in the salon or straight for the dining room?”
“The salon, please,” trilled Lady Melton. “I have plans to rake you both over the coals this evening. I simply must learn everything about our dear Miss Bellows.”
Lou’s face heated at the idea she would be the focus of the evening. She had never been one to seek attention, always happier hiding in the shadows unobserved.
“Now, Mother, don’t terrify her.”
Now that suggestion made Lou snort softly. Terrify her? A woman who had killed more people than Griff had ever—
“We shall answer your questions as best we can,” Griff recovered neatly. “But she is still to be permitted some privacy.”
“Of course, dear. I am simply beside myself with curiosity about the woman who could catch your eye after all these years.” His mother beamed as she settled onto a chair and indicated they should join her in the adjacent seats.
Lou did as bid and settled in for a long, painful visit. Honestly, she’d rather be visiting the blacksmith to have a tooth extracted than talking about herself to anyone.
Griff shot a worried glance her way, but she retained her calm exterior in hopes it would settle him. One of them had to retain control.
“Now, tell me where you are from?” the Dowager Countess started, going right to the heart of the matter.
Lou cringed inwardly and hoped for the best. Mothers were far more discerning than most marks. Particularly this one. Lady Melton was a force to be reckoned with in society—even Lou had heard of her. “I hail from London.”
“Truly? And we’ve never met before now? What part?” Lady Melton drilled in for the details.
“Mayfair, but I lost my parents as a child and moved to the country.” Her uncle had been rich enough from his work to own a lovely estate in Bedfordshire. Her stomach churned like a tempest at speaking of her parents, though she had not said their names. She had not spoken their names in years.
Sir Charlton and Lady Esmerelda Stanton.
“How sad. Was it a family member who took you in?”
“Indeed,” Lou offered, sticking as close to the truth as she could without revealing too much. If Lady Melton dug too deep, she would quickly discern where the lies began.
She did not wish to share her uncle’s name, under the circumstances. The last thing she needed was Lady Melton looking her uncle up and inviting him to dinner. The man would revel in revealing the truth of who and what Lou was to the society matron.
Her dishonorable killer of an uncle who had turned his back on her when she chose to work for the Crown putting her skills to good use instead of killing on behalf of the highest bidder, would downplay his role in her life. Nor would he explain how he had stolen her inheritance—with the exception of her childhood home—leaving her without two pence to rub together unless she chose to sell it. That betrayal had been gut wrenching.
Not elegant pre-dinner conversation.
“As should any good family member,” nodded Lady Melton approvingly. “It just breaks my heart when I hear of families turning children out.”
“Yes, it is a sad state of affairs.” Lou nodded and prayed for the dinner chimes to ring.
“Now Griff, how is it that Miss Bellows stole your heart?” His mother turned her focus on her son, much to Lou’s relief.
“Please, Mother.” Griff sounded as uncomfortable as Lou felt with what surely would have to be a purely fabricated story.
“Tell me the tale and I shall cease pestering you.” His mother’s firm gaze and earnestness seemed to sway him.
“Very well. We met when she came to call to discuss parliamentary issues of some mutual concern. She practically stole my breath when I saw her.” Griff stopped to offer Lou a conspiratorial grin. “Once we spoke for a few moments, I was quite taken with her and asked if I might call upon her to…to collaborate on the issue which was important to us both. She agreed, albeit reluctantly, one thing led to another…and here we are.”
Lou was impressed by his version of events. He’d stuck as close to the truth as he could with a few embellishments, but many, many omissions. It was really quite impressive.
“Well, it all sounds rather sudden,” Lady Melton said, arching an eyebrow. “Have you even properly courted the woman, Griffin?”
Lou coughed and tried to hide her smile behind her hand but was rescued by Lady Melton’s butler stepping into the room to ring the dinner gong. It was a small reprieve but one she, and she assumed Griff, was grateful for.
And as promised, the Dowager Countess stuck to discussing the charity auction she was co-chairing through the rest of the meal—at least, until she started telling tales of Griff’s wayward childhood.
“He was always getting into trouble,” his mother laughed, clearly relishing the memory of her son as a boy. “There was the time he was punished for a month because he lost the pantry key. It took us days to finally find the key. I was quite put out with him.”
Lou looked at a ruddy cheeked Griff who grunted at his mother’s story.
“Then there was the time he decided to run away when he was eight. He was very upset after his father punished him for taking apart the mule cart so he could see how it worked.” Lady Melton grinned at Griff, and Lou’s heart squeezed a little in her chest. “He was so inquisitive as a boy. Well, he packed a knapsack with his most prized possessions and left Melton House. He hadn’t even gotten off the estate when he realized Piers, who was only five then, had followed him down the very long lane that served as our driveway. Apparently he tried to send him back, but Piers refused to leave his side.” She took a sip of her wine. “By the time I found them, Piers was having a full on tantrum in the lane and Griff was attempting to calm him down.” Griff groaned, much to Lou’s delight. “The utter panic in Griff’s eyes as Piers lay there flailing his little arms and legs was so amusing, I laughed for days after…”
By the time Lou and Griff escaped back into his carriage, she was tired but in possession of far more insight into the man than was likely comfortable for anyone. She couldn’t help but see Griff through a different lens after hearing all of the stories of his childhood.
“Tell me Griff, where precisely did you hide the pantry key?” Lou asked, returning with a grin to one of the Countess’s stories about her son.
“I did in fact genuinely lose the thing, it’s just that it happened in a storm while I was flying a kite.” He stared at the floor of the carriage as his cheeks reddened enough to be visible in the passing steam-lights.
Lou snorted as it occurred to her what he’d been doing. “A disciple of Benjamin Franklin, are you?”
Griff glanced at her, clearly startled. “No, not a disciple. Just a curious boy who heard about an experiment and wanted to try it. The problem came when the wind ripped it from my hands.” He offered a lopsided smile that was handsome, even as it offered her a glimpse of the boy he’d once been.
“Oh, poor little Griff. And I assume you lied to your mother for fear of giving her an apoplexy?” Lou couldn’t control the ridiculous feeling of sympathy for the boy who’d lost the pantry key as her heart swelled with—no, she refused to acknowledge any such thing.
“More out of a strongly developed sense of self-preservation. My father was not one to tolerate my scientific interests, as you heard. He took every opportunity to remind me that I was the son of a peer and did not need to soil my hands with work .” Griff stopped talking, a sudden tension filling the cabin of the carriage.
“So…if the key was lost, how was it later found?” Lou asked, curious how he replaced the key.
“That was Piers’ doing. He acquired a skeleton key from somewhere—I’ve no clue where—and planted it where mother was looking. He’s always been a resourceful one. I suspect he sweet-talked one of the housemaids into providing the replacement. I was twelve then and about to leave for school for the first time, so Piers was nine and already a charmer.”
“You were twelve when you went to school for the first time?” Lou found she enjoyed hearing about young Griff far too much.
“Yes, my mother refused to let me leave at ten. My father always insisted she coddled me too much.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but Lou could see the tightness around his eyes when he spoke of his father. He had not had a good relationship with the man.
That realization made her heart ache for the boy he had been. While part of her wanted to comfort him, the greater urge was to take him to bed and make the past retreat back into the shadows.
But then the vehicle drew to a stop and the door opened at the rear of The Market, so Lou embraced her last impulse to make him forget. “Perhaps you’d like to come inside and soil your hands another way?”
Lou couldn’t explain the need to be near him, to comfort him—but it drove her to make the offer and sit there quietly, waiting for his answer as though waiting for a bullet to fly from a steam-pistol.
He nodded and followed her from the vehicle as he ordered the carriage home for the evening.
What am I doing? While their contract was still in place, she was no longer required to play the role of mistress, now she had the new one of fiancé. And yet, despite only two nights in Griff’s arms, she was curious to see if a third night would feel as magical. Or had she made it all up in her own mind?
Holt’s words surfaced in her mind: they were supposed to be lying low.
But she could slip him up the back stairs and— this is a terrible idea . But he was following her inside, and she knew she wouldn’t send him away now.