With sober features, he slipped the vial into his pocket. “Don’t underestimate me, Tessa. And stop lying. If you lie to me again, we’re through. I mean it.” He grazed a knuckle under my chin. “Whatever it is. I can handle it.”
Chapter 15
Afew days later, I woke to the sound of pounding on my front door. Shading my eyes from the sun peeking through the curtains, I smiled. Another early wake up call from Derrick? What should I have him make me for breakfast this morning? Did I dare try for a poached egg? Rolling to my feet, I padded to the mirror and checked my appearance. Not terrible.
Instead of a ratty mess, my dark curls had a freshly tousled look. Combing the long strands forward, I hurried to the wardrobe and pulled on a wine-colored dress. The pounding sounded again, and I yelled over my shoulder, “Just a minute.”
I flew down the stairs and came to an abrupt halt on the last step. Sylvia Trager peered through the window pane. She rapped her cane against the glass.
“Hurry up, dear. It’s freezing out here.”
The smile slipped from my face, and I felt a pang of disappointment. What was wrong with me? I’d been acting smitten for days, taking extra time with my appearance, grinning like a fool when we stopped for lunch—a regular occurrence now—and soaking up those moments when I’d catch Derrick watching me with a gaze that made my heart pound. Anyone who knew me would shake their head in pity. Even I would shake my head in pity and then burn some sage to clear the air of secondhand embarrassment.
Sylvia barged inside and smacked me with a rolled newsprint. “You sly girl! After all that nonsense you spouted about not being interested in marriage. No wonder you didn’t attend the ball. I want details. And tea. Get me tea.”
“Sylvia, what are you talking about?” I swung the kettle over the coals and stoked them back to life.
“I’m talking about the Ever Gazette.” She tapped the newspaper with her bony finger.
“That’s a gossip rag. More society pages than news. Didn’t I tell you to stop reading it?”
She made a shushing sound and waved me away. “There’s truth in every rumor, and I want the truth from you about this.” The paper crinkled as she flattened it against the table.
Funny, she wasn’t the only one demanding my honesty these days. Derrick’s ultimatum rang in my ears. Tell the truth, or else.
“The truth about what?”
“The front page! Take a look for yourself.”
Apprehension made me approach the paper like it was a snake in the grass. When I got close enough, my stomach dropped. A hand-drawn image of me standing under the eaves of the apothecary shop covered the front page. But I wasn’t alone. The moment had seemed innocent at the time, but the way the artist captured it told a different story. Derrick stood in front of me, his hands closed around mine, our heads bent together as if we were sharing an intimate secret. The headline made it worse.
Agency’s Famed Detective Has Fallen Under A Witch’s Spell.
I jabbed the illustration. “It wasn’t like that. We were—”
“Canoodling?”
“We were not!” Heat flushed my cheeks. At least, not there. Give us a couple of hours and a stroll through the black market, and then, yeah. Good thing the artist hadn’t witnessed that exchange. “Detective Chambers and I are working together to solve Ella Lockwood’s murder. This is taken completely out of context!”
Sylvia winked. “His expression says differently, my dear. A man hasn’t looked at me that way in ages.”
“They drew him like that to sell papers. It’s gossip fodder, nothing more.”
“Gossip or not, it’s a fantastic likeness. You’ll get more customers from this. Everyone reads the Gazette.”
Which meant everyone would know about my association with Derrick, and it wouldn’t take any effort to discover my role in the case. I worried my lip between my teeth. Public curiosity was one thing, but the scrutiny could become a problem. Crossing to the fireplace, I removed the kettle and banked the coals.
“Sorry, Sylvia. I have to go to town. There’s no time for tea.”
“Are you going to visit your detective?”
“He’s not my detective.” I retrieved my cloak and ushered Sylvia out the door.
She paused on the landing. “I want to meet the man. Bring him by for a meal. Fuzzlebottoms and I will judge whether you two are a good match.”
“No way, Sylvia. You and your cat aren’t getting involved.”
“But I already promised Fuzzy! You know how much he enjoys the company. His tail gets all fluffy.”
