Love. She had been about to say “love.”
Inspector Holland was still talking, but Alex didn’t hear a word. Her mind was a whirl.
“Miss Atkinson,” the Inspector suddenly prompted and Alex’s gaze shot to his face. “We can continue this later, if you need to rest.”
Alex sat up a little straighter. “No, I’m fine. Please continue.”
“As I was saying, I am building a case against the criminalknown as the Nun and his associates. But very few people are willing to speak against him for fear of retaliation.”
“What is the difference?” Alex shrugged, unconcerned. “I’m already a target, as you can see.”
“Yes, but I’d wager that after last night the Nun expects you to be scared. Likely, that was what O’Hara was sent to do in the first place. Pummeling Mr. Taylor was just a bonus,” he added.
Alex’s blood began to boil. “Well, then he has made asizableerror,” she pronounced.
Inspector Holland pursed his lips as if he was trying not to smile. “I can’t tell if you’re one of the bravest women I’ve met, or simply the most reckless. Your sister Phoebe presented a similar conundrum.”
“I suspect it’s a mixture of both,” she said with a weary sigh. “I will take more care, though. I can promise you that. My sisters and I may be reckless on occasion, but we all have healthy sense of self-preservation.”
Alex had meant it as a lighthearted quip, but Inspector Holland’s face noticeably darkened. “Then I suggest you have a word with Winifred, given thathersense of self-preservation appears to be missing entirely.”
Alex tilted her head. “What happened, Inspector?”
He avoided her eyes and rose to his feet. “Just… keep an eye on her. I will send word when I have something. In the meantime, I suggest staying close to home as much as possible. And do not go anywhere alone.”
“Understood,” she said with a nod. “I mean it this time.”
As the inspector put on his bowler hat, he grumbled something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like “Finally” and left the room.
Twenty-Six
Over the next few days, Lucien slowly recovered in the comfort of the Atkinsons’ home. Freddie and Mrs. Atkinson stopped by at least twice a day, sometimes with Mr. Atkinson in the evenings, while Mrs. Drummond brought up most of his meals. At Lucien’s request, she hadn’t told her sister the extent of his injuries so as not to worry his father. Only that he’d had an accident and was recovering at Park House.
He passed the long hours of the day by picking through the stack of mystery novels Mrs. Atkinson had foisted upon him or playing checkers or cards with Freddie. He had never asked about where she had been the night of his encounter, and she never brought it up herself.
Instead, Freddie now wore her diamond ring with pride and casually mentioned potential spring wedding dates and flower arrangements, all while complaining about Phoebe’s utter lack of interest in planningherwedding in December.
“Thank heavens she has Mother and Will deciding everything for her,” Freddie said. “Otherwise, Phoebe would have to get married in the parlor with flowers from the back garden.”
She then shuddered for comic effect, but that didn’t sound sobad to him. But while Lucien much appreciated the company, there was only one person he truly wished to see.
Alex came by on his second evening there. He had just woken from a long, drug-induced slumber to find a shadowy figure watching over him from the foot of the bed.
“I wrote to Benjamin earlier,” she began without preamble in her usual formal tone. “I said that you have fallen ill and would be indisposed for the time being but reassured him that you are still fully committed to your partnership. I will write him again in a few days.”
Lucien didn’t give a fig about Chisolm and tried to tell her so, but the words came out garbled. As he struggled to focus on her, Alex whispered something before ducking out of the room. It took Lucien’s sluggish mind a few moments for the meaning to sink in:
I’m so sorry.
Freddie tried gently prying a few times, but Lucien didn’t have the will to discuss his situation with anyone other than Alex. He did learn that she was staying close to the house under Inspector Holland’s advice, but otherwise she kept her distance.
Every few hours, Lucien forced himself out of bed and walked around the room. Each day, he was able to walk a little longer. By his fourth day at Park House, he could walk down the hall and back without assistance. By the fifth, he could manage the stairs, though ascending was considerably harder.
“You mustn’t push yourself,” Freddie warned as she accompanied him back to his room. “Don’t think we’re in a hurry to have you leave.”
Lucien sighed and gently rubbed his aching ribs. “I know. But I’m sosickof sitting in bed staring at the wallpaper. I see those French peasants when I close my eyes at night.”
Freddie chuckled. “Yes, the toile is a bit much in that room. I’m surprised Alex put you—” She stopped abruptly as something seemed to dawn on her. Lucien gave her an inquiring look. “I only meant that usually guests stay in the bedrooms on the floor above. The blue room was our old nanny’s quarters, so it’s closest to Alex’s bedroom.”
