Page 85 of Beyond the Cottage

“I was a sloppy mess last night,” she said in a rush. “And I was an asshole this morning. I’m…sorry.”

Her apology startled him.

“Why are you sorry?” When she didn’t respond, disappointment pricked him. He crushed it and returned his attention to the book. “I shouldn’t have slept in bed with you, so your reaction requires no apology. In fact, I appreciate the clarity.”

“Clarity?”

“Regarding our dynamic. Last night, I crossed the line. It won’t happen again.”

Before she could say anything else, Philip came out with his bags. He dropped them near the door and took a seat at the narrow secretary, snapping open a newspaper.

“How much farther to the capital?” Ansel asked.

“Four stops,” Gretta said. “Another few hours.”

“I assume I’ll no longer be accompanying you to the senator?”

“Why would you assume that?”

“Didn’t he fire you?”

Philip sniffed, and Gretta glared at him.

“That doesn’t change anything,” she said. “The repellent is too important.”

Thumping came from the roof.

She leaned forward. “You’re still coming with me, right?”

Should he? It would be easy enough to wash his hands of it. She could take his notebooks and samples to the capital alone, putting them both out of their misery. But he was the repellent’s lone expert. He’d sacrificed too much for too many years not to see it through. And he had no other connections to potential investors.

Preventing atrocities like they’d faced in the cottagewasthe only thing that mattered. She’d had it right all along.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m still going.”

More thumping came from above. It passed over them, followed by another round. Gretta stood, ear tipped to the pressed tin ceiling, and Philip joined her. With each thump, the crystal chandelier shivered.

“What is that?” Ansel asked. “Footsteps?”

Gretta and Philip exchanged glances.

Pressing her eyes shut, she muttered, “Fuck.”

Ansel shot to his feet. “What the hell is going on?”

Gretta dashed to her chamber without responding.

Philip slapped his newspaper on the secretary and retrieved one of his bags. “If you brought valuables on this trip, I suggest you secure them.” He produced his knife and tested the edge. “We’re about to get robbed.”

Chapter 31

“Are you goddamn serious?” Ansel asked. Another set of footsteps passed by, and his gut landed somewhere near his feet. The day had been a big enough disaster without adding a train heist to the mix.

Gretta hustled from her chamber with her luggage and frantically jimmied a window. “We can toss our bags and come back for them.”

Ansel grabbed the case of repellent, ready to join her. Then he pictured glass cracking and his life’s work seeping into the dirt. “The repellent. It’ll be destroyed.”

She slowly turned. Her bag thudded to the floor, abandoned. “We’ll hide it. Let’s pour it into a vase, or something.”

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