Page 199 of Too Good to Be True

We were all in the Pearl Room.

Portia sat on the sofa across from me, giving me big eyes anytime I caught hers.

Like right now.

My attention shifted, and I watched Lady Jane pinch some invisible lint off her wool trousers from where she sat, legs crossed, next to Portia. Cool as a cucumber, even though I questioned its existence, she flicked the lint away.

The men were standing: Richard and Daniel scowling at me, Ian prowling the room.

Newsflash, whoever it was got away.

And whoever it was, was not a member of staff, unless they’d returned on the sly.

All others were accounted for and had been busy doing their duties when all this was going on.

I couldn’t take this silence, of which there had been about fifteen minutes of it after Ian gathered us here.

So I started, “Ian—”

“Quiet!” he bellowed.

I fell silent.

Not because he told me to.

Because he’d never shouted at me.

I didn’t like it.

He immediately went back on his command when he then asked, “Have you bloody gone mad?”

“I—” I started.

“Chased after some deranged lunatic who’s trying to terrify us in our own fucking house,” he finished for me.

“It’s just—”

“Incredibly foolish?” he suggested.

I crossed my arms on my chest. “Since you’re intent to carry on this conversation by yourself, I’ll let you do it,” I stated crossly.

“You fell down the fucking stairs, Daphne.”

“Only a few.”

“Only a few?” His tone was incredulous. He leaned my way. “Are you insane?” he roared.

I remembered I was going to be silent while he worked his shit out, thus, I went back to that.

“So, do I have this straight, darling?” he asked sarcastically. “You heard someone in the wall. You, by yourself, with no weapon or training to say, do a bloody fucking thing if you caught this person, chased after him through the staff passageways, of which you have experience traversing only one in fucking dozens. And you ended up falling down only a few stairs when you could have tumbled down the whole fucking lot and broken your goddamned neck!”

He ended that shouting again, so I kept silent.

“I’ll repeat,” he said dangerously, “have you gone bloody mad?”

I changed my mind about silence. “If I caught them, or at least saw them, we’d know who was behind this.”

“I’m finding out who’s behind this,” he hissed. “I don’t need you racing through the walls in assistance.”

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