Confidence restored, Luna finished her pin curls, picked up her candle, and moved to her bed. There she paused.
The pink unicorn sat on her pillow. Looking at her.
Its glass eyes gleamed with faint accusation.
Luna grimaced. Green Mother save her, she’d scarcely thought of John Ward since they parted ways at the festival gate! Other than when Bryony brought him up, her thoughts were occupied elsewhere. And yet she’d spent the entire day with him. With the most beautiful man she’d ever set eyes on. Surely that was worth a little pondering?
He’d not tried to kiss her. Luna didn’t know if she should be concerned by this or not. At the time, it was something of a relief, especially after everything Bryony had implied. But Ward had remained a perfect gentleman, simply saying, “Well, it’s been a real one, Luna Talbot. G’night.” Then he’d touched his forehead in a two-finger salute, put both hands in his pockets, and begun to saunter away.
“Good luck on your assignment,” Luna had called after him.
He’d turned and walked backwards several paces, dimples flashing. “Don’t forget those prayers you promised. I’m gonna need them!”
She’d laughed and assured him she wouldn’t forget.
Then he was gone. With no promise to look her up when he got back, no direct indication that he might want to see her again. Was she . . . disappointed? Not particularly. After all, she’d seen that image in his teacup clear as day. Unless her Sight was disastrously off-kilter, she didn’t doubt her path would be drawn back to that of the handsome wardsman sooner or later. Apparently they had a date with destiny.
“So don’t look at me like that,” she muttered to the pink unicorn, who gazed up at her with silent indictment. “It’s not like I’m going to forget him in the next couple of weeks, am I? Not withyouhere, staring at me.”
With that, she tossed the stuffie to the foot of her bed. Slipping under her covers, she blew out her candle, tucked in tight against the cold, closed her eyes firmly.
And sawthat lookMr. Grimm gave her in the nurse’s pavilion.
As though whatever she’d just said was a revelation.
Or rather, as though she herselfwasthe revelation.
As though, when he looked at her, the sun rose inside the darkness of his mind, briefly banishing all haunting shadows.
Luna gritted her teeth. Very softly, as though afraid Auntie Apolonia’s sharp ears would hear her all the way across the channel, she whispered, “Damn.” Then, flushing with embarrassment, she bit her tongue and said a prayer of penance to the Green Mother.
Luna’s stomach was such a knot of tension by the time she arrived at The Arcane Bouquet the following morning, she didn’t think she could eat a bite of Mrs. Goddard’s beans and toast. Even if she didn’t feel so abjectly guilty about doing so to begin with.
She pushed the door open and called out her usual, “I’m here, Mr. Grimm!” to the tinkling of shop bells.
No answer. Not even a squawk from Debbie.
But this was no surprise. No doubt Mr. Grimm was busy, out in Garden somewhere. They’d left the shop unattended for an entire day, and it was bound to take some going-over to get everything ready for opening.
Or . . . maybe not?
Luna frowned as she hung up her coat. Everywhere she looked, the shop had been scrubbed and straightened within an inch of its life. Not a stray brown leaf touched the floor, not a single pot stood out of line, not a paperclip littered the desk. The register was all in order, the floor swept spick and span, and all the flowers had been fed, trimmed, dead-headed, watered, refreshed, arranged. The thaumatic light bulbs had all been changed, the baseboards had been dusted, even thecobwebs in the very highest, hardest-to-reach corners of the ceiling had been dealt with. Everything. A handful of quite ornate bouquets stood on display in the window (Mr. Grimm had been practicing his flower arranging skills over the last several weeks).
In fact, Luna realized as she tied on her apron, there was nothing whatsoever for her to do. Other than move a few pots outside for display.
Her mouth quirked to one side, she set to work on this solitary task, selecting hearty blooms that wouldn’t mind the autumnal-morning chill. She tried not to worry about Mr. Grimm. Had he stayed up all night, scrubbing the shop from top to bottom? But why? Guilt over abandoning it for a day, no doubt. But what about that knock he took to the face? He really ought to have rested after a blow like that. Was he sleeping even now? Had he, exhausted from his night’s labors, collapsed into bed in the apartment upstairs, leaving her to manage on her own today, unsupervised? Perhaps . . .
“Or perhaps you ought not to speculate so wildly until you’ve got all the facts,” Luna muttered as she turned one of her flower pots to a more fetching angle.
“Ahem!”
The Clearing of the Throat happened just behind her. It was the most polite, most delicate of sounds. Absolutely ladylike in every particular, and yet somehow still managed to convey a certain undercurrent of desperation.
Luna turned, eyebrows raised, and found herself facing quite an eerie-looking figure, all in black, wearing a large hat swathed in gauzy veils. The costume was obviously meant for discretion, and were they all existing within the pages of a gothic novel, might have done just the trick. In a modern city like Ballycastle, however, it was a bit outlandish.
“Good morning, Miss Eugenia Lambert,” Luna said politely. “Good morning, Sutton,” she added to the young lady’s personal maid, who stood several paces behind her, un-disguised and determinedly without expression of any kind.
The little veiled creature reached out and grabbed Luna by the wrist. “Oh! Don’t say my name out loud!” she gasped, her voice slightly muffled through gauze. “Who knows who could be listening?”
