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“Night, Papa.”
She turned her attention back to the gardens and let her head rest against the glass with a sigh. “Please return soon,” she whispered.
It might have been mere minutes or a full hour before she heard the front door shut. All she knew was it felt like an eternity. She jumped to her feet and stared at the door, frozen in position. If it wasn’t Luke, she was not sure—
The door flung open and Luke strode in, his eyes wild. “Cass?” He closed the distance between them and gripped her shoulders. “Are you well? Unharmed?”
“Unharmed?” She stared up at him. “Why would I be harmed?”
“The men spotted an intruder trying to enter through one of the lower windows only moments ago. I arrived as they were giving chase, but the man slipped away. I feared—” His voice broke. “Lord, I thought there might be someone else with him.” He muttered a curse. “I should not have left you.”
Cassie wanted to offer some words of reassurance but the relief he was unharmed and returned to her prevented her from doing anything other than wrapping her arms about his waist and pressing herself hard against his chest, her eyes closed. She absorbed the warmth of him and the slightly smoky, cool scent emanating from him.
“Cass?”
“I feared something had happened to you too,” she murmured against his jacket. “I feared I might not...”
She couldn’t say it. Could not admit to the feeling swelling inside of her. Luke had promised her two things—to protect her and to give her pleasure. He’d never vowed to love her.
“I’m here,” he assured her and banded his arms about her. “I will not leave you.”
It wasn’t true but she took comfort from the words anyway. They both knew once this was over, he would return to his life as a rake and bachelor and she would hopefully persuade Anton not to marry her off.
Finally, she lifted her head to view him. “What did you find out?”
He maintained his hold of her. “Mrs. Lyle followed the man for most of the day. He continued to trail Mr. Harding, but the only time he did not was when he travelled to St. Saviour’s Dock late in the evening.”
“St. Saviour’s Dock?”
“I went there tonight, to see if I could spot him. Mrs. Lyle lost track of him somewhere near the Royal Oak.”
“Luke, that could have been dangerous!”
“I had hoped to put an end to this whole miserable thing.”
She glanced down. And an end to them.
“I didn’t find him, unfortunately, and now I fear he was here the whole time.”
“Why follow Mr. Harding, though?”
Luke lifted his shoulders. “Why do any of this?”
“We will only know if we can get hold of this man.”
His jaw flexed. “If I get hold of him, he will be lucky to live.”
“St. Saviour’s Dock did you say?”
“Yes.”
She took a step back and Luke released her from his hold. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she frowned. “Saviour’s, saviour’s, saviour’s...” She gasped. “The textile mill.”
He pulled off his gloves and finally set aside his hat. “Cassie?”
“The man who attacked me—he had red fingers. Extremely red. As though he had been touching dye. I did the same once when I was dying ribbons when I was a child. My fingers stayed red for months.”
“So?”
