Page 59 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
Her gaze sharpened. “Why?”
He dropped his charming façade and, entirely sober, said, “Because as I mentioned earlier, should the killer learn ofThe Crier’sspecial edition, there’s every chance he’ll target you.”
And?rang in Izzy’s mind, but she didn’t want to ask. He was watching her, waiting for her to press…and she strongly suspected that if she did, he would tell her his reason.
She wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it—to hear him say that she still meant something to him or, alternatively, that he was focused on finding the killer, motivated purely by the investigation, by the thrill of the chase.
In her bones, she knew that something of their past connection still lingered, extant between them, but exactly what that was and how strong or reliable it might be, much less what it might mean…those were questions for another time when she didn’t have her mother, her sister, her cousin, and Silas liable to come looking for her at any moment.
Briskly, she nodded—as if having a killer targeting her was unremarkable—reached for the doorknob, and opened the door. “Thank you for your company. Between you, you and Silas made the evening thoroughly enjoyable.”
He inclined his head. “The pleasure was mine.” He stepped over the threshold, then halted and turned, his amber gaze pinning her. “Do you have a safe in this house?”
Puzzled, she nodded.
“I strongly suggest you put the negatives in it and leave them there. You don’t need them to print from, do you?”
“No. Digby said he’s already made what they need.” She met his eyes and nodded. “I’ll do that.”
The point brought home the danger of baiting a killer.
Her thoughts must have shown in her eyes. He hesitated, then said, “Quite apart from your Woburn Square subterfuge, whoever he is, he won’t suspect the negatives are at your home. Why would they be? The others weren’t. I don’t believe leaving them in the safe here will result in any threat to this household.”
That had been the thought that had risen in her mind. Reassured, she nodded, accepting his reasoning.
Satisfied, he smiled slightly, put on his hat, and raised a hand to its brim in salute. “I’ll see you over the breakfast cups tomorrow.”
She caught the teasing glint in his eyes.
His smile widened, and he turned and strode away.
She huffed, shut the door, stared at the panels, and reviewed the exchange. It was impossible not to acknowledge that the present situation had fostered a level of direct and open communication between them, resulting in a degree of clarity and understanding that hadn’t been there years ago.
She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Refocusing on the here and now, she returned to the drawing room.
While she and Gray had been in the hall, Jordan had risen to leave. He’d waited only to make his farewell to her; once he had, Marietta accompanied him to the door.
Izzy claimed the armchair next to Silas, and she and her mother asked about her brother Julius and Dorothy, Julius’s wife and Silas’s granddaughter, and their burgeoning family. Silas had called in at Lyndon Hall on his way from his home north of Manchester and bore news of the most recent happenings at the hall, which filled the next several minutes.
Marietta returned and joined Sybil on the sofa to listen, smile, and exclaim.
Finally, with his report delivered in full, Silas turned a searching gaze on Izzy. “Now, my girl, what’s this about a murder, heh? At the printing works, Sybil said.”
There hadn’t been time earlier to relate much of the story, and her mother had been adamant she hadn’t wanted the dinner blighted by the subject, an approach that had turned out rather well.
But Silas had been instrumental in enabling Izzy to buy the run-down printing works, refurbish the machinery, hire new staff, and establishThe London Crier. Without him, she wouldn’t have got past the first hurdle; he deserved to know of anything that threatened an enterprise to which he’d given so much time.
She started at the beginning—when Gray had walked throughThe Crier’sdoor—and ended with the information that they’d decided that the best place for the crucial negatives was in the safe in the study, a safe Silas had arranged to have installed.
Her mother and her sister kept their questions to a minimum, allowing Silas to voice his often more searching queries.
She answered candidly; she valued his opinion as she did no one else’s.
After listening to her account of Gray’s reasoning over why the negatives being at Norfolk Crescent wouldn’t constitute a danger to the household, Silas nodded approvingly. “I’m glad he considered the possibility and agree with his conclusion. Here is safer than anywhere else and keeps the negatives in your control.” Silas’s gaze rested on her face. “It appears his lordship is taking a personal interest in ensuring your safety and that of the staff, and of that, I wholeheartedly approve.”
Feeling vindicated over agreeing to Gray’s suggestion, when Silas rose, made his farewells, and claimed her escort to the door, she delightedly obliged.
As they walked arm in arm into the front hall, Silas patted her hand. “I have to say I’m rather intrigued by this notion of a hue and cry edition. Regardless, one way or another, I have every confidence that, between the pair of you, you and his lordship will see this blighter caught.”
