“Yeah, I hear you.” That rumbling voice—that was Ward. Ward-the-Blasted Wardsman. Nigel’s stomach clenched, wanting to heave again, but he stifled it. The sound of heavy boots on tile echoed in his head.
“But what I don’t understand,” Ward’s voice continued, “is whyyouare here at all. It’s half-past ten at night. Mr. Grimm invite you for a sleepover?”
A stricken silence followed this not-so-subtle implication. Fury boiled in Nigel’s gut, and he wanted to rise, to come to Luna’s defense. What right had Ward to be casting a slur upon her character? His numb hands grappled with the arms of the chair, and he sought to find some leverage, to push himself to his feet, to charge out from behind the curtain, roaring with righteous indignation on her behalf!
Only hehadinvited her to stay the night. Worse than that, he hadn’t any clear idea exactlywhat he’d meantwhen he made the invitation.
But the fact remained: he’d invited her. And she’d accepted.
And it wasn’t a pot of tea they’d been sharing before Mrs. Goddard barged in.
“Ward,” Luna spoke at last, her voice laced with ice, “I don’t know if I should be offended or amused. Seriously. You thinkthatof me? AndMr. Grimm?”
Nigel’s brow puckered.
“Well,” Ward answered slowly, “I find you here, late at night, long after closing time, with most of the lights off. What else do you expect a fellow to think?”
“I don’t expect a fellow to think anything at all. Particularly not on a night when he’s supposed to be working! Didn’t you say something about some do down at the warehouse district tonight?”
“Yeah, I guess I did mention something about that, didn’t I.”
“Well? How did it go?”
“It was a thing.”
Another silence followed this. Nigel used the opportunity to once more try to brace his hands on the arms of his chair, to very little success.
Then Ward spoke again: “You know, I thought I might have seen one of those thugs heading up this way, toward Addle Street. Was on his tail when I saw the lights on in here. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“No,” Luna answered firmly.
“You sure?”
“Do you really think any gangsters are going to stop in and buy flowers on their way home from nefarious doings?”
“Seems a bit unlikely.”
“My point exactly. Now, if you don’t mind, John Ward, I’m extremely busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Inventory.”
“Inventory of what?”
“Florist things.”
“Such as?”
“Flowers. Vases. Fertilizer. Things.”
“Right. Sounds important.”
“Not as important as hunting down your man, so . . .”
“And your boss has just left you to manage all this inventorying on your own?”
Luna fell silent. Nigel, more awake by the moment, felt now would be a really good time for him to burst out from behind the curtain and declare that, no, of course not! He would never abandon Luna to any task. Really, the gall of that damnable wardsman . . . But he couldn’t get his feet under him. And while he could just about make his fingers grip the arms of the cane chair, his muscles wouldn’t work. With an extreme effort, he managed to lift himself an inch or two, only to sink back down again heavily, breathing hard.
