Page 53 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
He bolted down the stairs and the walkway. “Who are you!” he barked at Patrick.
Patrick grinned politely, extending his hand. “Patrick Charlemagne.”
Anderson grunted and gave the proffered hand a reluctant shake. “Thank you for escorting Miss James.”
Patrick looked between them and then frowned. “Are you...?” He gave Effie a questioning look. “I mean, is your mother here perhaps? Or is she meeting you?”
Effie appreciated that he was concerned about her reputation, but at the moment she couldn’t care less about that. A baby! Agitated, she shifted her weight to her other foot, wishing dear, good Patrick Charlemagne would take his leave.
“No. You may go now,” Anderson instructed stiffly.
“Pardon?” Patrick reared back.
“I saidoff with you.”
“Miss James?” Patrick turned to her.
“Thank you, Mr. Charlemagne.” Effie gave him a halfhearted smile.
Patrick pressed his lips together. Frowning, he nodded. “All right then.” With that, he strode away.
Effie opened her mouth to call after him, to thank him. Without Patrick, she’d not know what Mrs. Branson had witnessed. Not know—
“Into the house,” Anderson gritted through his teeth.
Effie lifted her chin. “Pardon me, but I will not be talked to as if I’m your ...belonging.”
Anderson started to say something, then stopped. Effie could see he was trying to control his fury. Or was it concern, worry? Had he been worried about her?
Anderson lowered his voice. “My apologies, but I was quite concerned when your mother sent a carriage here to inquire after you. To get here, you had to walk past Predicament Avenue. What were you thinking? Then I see you strolling down the sidewalk with a strange man?”
“He’s not strange to me. I know Mr. Charlemagne. We’ve been acquainted since we were children. He’s respectable and—”
“Being unchaperoned with a man was your downfall to begin with!” Anderson pointed down the street toward Patrick’s retreating form, now far in the distance.
Frustrated, Effie glared at him. She rarely lost her temper, but Anderson was testing her patience. “I don’t care about that right now. What aboutyou? What haven’t you told me that I should know!”
Anderson’s eyes widened. He motioned toward the house. “Let’s go inside before this becomes so much worse.”
She hurried up the steps and into the house. Gus was nowhere to be seen. Anderson shut the door firmly.
This was ridiculous. All of it. Every single moment of every single day had become a portion of a much bigger nightmare. And now? Effie turned to address Anderson. To confront him about the woman and the child.
Anderson spun toward her, and with the door at her back, Effie was quite trapped there. His expression had gentled, and she thought she even saw his chest rise and fall in what appeared to be relief.
“Patrick Charlemagne is trustworthy?” Anderson confirmed.
Effie nodded. “Yes. The Charlemagnes are honorable. He is courting my dearest friend, Bethany.”
“And you are all right?” His eyes skimmed her from the top of her head to her toes. “Your mother is beside herself. She sent a message. Something about you accusing Polly’s nurse—”
Effie reached out and clutched Anderson’s forearm. “You must believe me. It makes sense. Ever since that night, they’ve been medicating Polly with powders. She’s been unresponsive, suppressed. The day we went to Predicament Avenue, she hadlifein her still.”
“Trauma can cause digression.” Anderson stated it so matter-of-factly that Effie dropped her hold on his arm.
He still had her positioned between him and the door. His eyes softened as he looked into hers. His English accent grew thicker for some reason, his voice huskier. “I believe you.”
Those words meant the world to her. Effie expelled a pent-up breath. One she had been holding in, it seemed, since she’d left the manor in a rush. Now she looked up at Anderson and searched his face. He was withdrawn still, as she was growing accustomed to, and yet something in his demeanor tugged her toward him.
