“Thank you,” he said.
He stepped back into the corridor with the thin packet in his hand and a steadiness in his chest that no longer wavered.
Outside, the day remained undecided. Marcus was not.
He would speak to the men behind Fenwick. He would follow the lines of loyalty and debt until they revealed the fault in Fenwick’s armor. He would tug until the structure weakened, until the balance shifted toward truth.
And when it did, Marcus would be there to ensure one thing held firm.
Lila Edgewood would be safe from Fenwick, from the shadows that had tracked her steps, and, if he was brave enoughto finish what had begun between them, from the small, careful life she had been forced to build around fear.
He tucked the packet into his coat. Then he went out to begin.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lila’s hands stilltrembled long after she had told herself to be calm.
She sat in the narrow common room of Rosehaven House, mending a hem she could barely see. The needle slipped twice before she forced herself to steady it. Around her, the familiar sounds filled the space. Mrs. Denning pinned sleeves on a dress form. Miss Partridge read aloud from the Gazette. The kettle began its soft rumble on the hob.
Normal sounds. Safe sounds.
She could not settle into any of them.
Her eyes drifted again toward the window overlooking the street. She knew better than to sit in full view, so she kept to the side, where she could see without being seen.
Fenwick was not there. Not today. Not tonight. Not where she could see him.
The absence did not soothe her. It unsettled her more.
“Miss Edgewood,” Mrs. Denning said, without lifting her gaze from the pins, “you are sewing the same inch of that skirt for the fourth time.”
Lila blinked and looked down. The needle had left a small constellation of holes where she had stitched, unpicked, and stitched again.
“I am distracted,” she said quietly.
“You don’t say,” Mrs. Denning replied, dry as chalk. “You’ve been listening for footsteps on the pavement since the noon post.”
Lila lowered her gaze to the cloth and forced herself to breathe evenly.
“I walked home quickly,” she said. “Perhaps too quickly.”
“Because of the man who stands across the street,” Mrs. Denning said. “Yes. We’ve all noticed.”
Heat crept into Lila’s cheeks. “I didn’t wish to cause concern.”
“You live in a house full of women who look out for their own,” Mrs. Denning said. “If you wished to avoid concern, you chose the wrong residence.”
That drew a small laugh from Lila, thin but real.
Mrs. Denning paused her pinning and studied her for a moment.
“He didn’t speak to you again?” she asked.
“No.”
“And Lord Wolfton walked you home last night.”
Lila’s breath caught. “You saw.”
