He would find the man who had hurt her.
And God help him when he did.
Because once Gideon had him in hand, mercy would have to come from heaven.
It would not come from him.
FEELING SAFE
Beatrice remained in Gideon’s arms rather longer than she ought.
And when voices drifted from along the basement corridor, without a word, Gideon drew her deeper into the shadows.
Miss Barlow was giggling at something the colonel had said, entirely unaware that she and her suitor were not alone. Whatever had passed between them, she seemed unharmed. Flustered, perhaps. A little pleased with herself.
Grâce au ciel. If Miss Barlow had been hurt while Beatrice had been preoccupied with her own fear… But she hadn’t been.
Only after the couple passed and disappeared up the stairs did Beatrice remember to breathe.
For several seconds, she remained exactly where she was, held against Gideon, listening to the frantic beat of her own heart.
Then, above them, the theater shifted.
Voices faded. Doors closed. The music rose, and the opera resumed overhead as though nothing at all had happened below.
Heat crept up her neck—part embarrassment, part something… else.
She felt altered.
Lighter, somehow.
“Lark will be worried,” Beatrice said at last.
It was a practical thing to say. Practical and… safe.
Far easier than addressing… everything else.
She drew back then—just enough to look up at him properly.
“Oh.” She gasped. “Oh no.”
There was blood at his jaw. Three dark lines where her nails had cut him. And his eye?—
“Oh, Gideon…” Her mouth turned dry. Because… how did one apologize for such a thing? She’d thought… And then she’d reacted. But…
The notion of not reacting to such a threat seemed… impossible.
Beatrice swallowed hard. “You really ought not to have snuck up on me like that.”
Gideon’s mouth twitched faintly. “Oh, I’ve learned that.” There was a trace of humor in his voice, but his eyes remained serious. “And you,” he added, “ought not to wander into dark and questionable passages alone.”
Her eyes narrowed at once. “You were not here.”
He glanced about them, one brow lifting slightly as he gestured—quite pointedly—to his own very obvious presence.
“Was I not?”
She huffed a breath, unwilling to concede the point. “I did look for you.”
