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She looked up into his face, expecting to find hesitancy in his expression to match his halting words. But it weren’t what she saw at all. He looked ... flustered.

Gemma reached up and lightly touched his face, her fingertips teasing over his long sideburns. Heat touched his cheeks. That was intriguing. Did he always blush when she touched him? If so, she hadn’t noticed before.

“I want you to be happy, Gemma,” he said quietly. “You tell me what you need for that to happen.”

Happyin the moment? Or happyin the long run? The two, she knew, weren’t always the same. Nothing would make her happier than being held by him, perhaps even kissed by him, and to accept his offer to return to Finsbury and pretend for a fortnight that things were different between them than they’d been before.

He liked her and cared about her. He held her and laughedwith her. It weren’t too far a leap from there to love, at least the beginnings of it.

But she’d debated this with herself before. For weeks, she’d told herself she just needed to give him time, givethemtime. She’d believed the argument enough to not merely confess to him that she loved him but to ask if he loved her.

The pain of his answer still sometimes kept her awake at night.

He wanted her to be happy. She wanted him to be free to marry someone hecouldlove. And that couldn’t happen until she had Mr. Sorokin’s papers in hand and her plan set in motion.

“Perhaps the Donnellys would let me stay here for a fortnight or so,” she said. “Móirín wouldn’t be going out of her way to walk with me to Marylebone. I could keep my job, earn the coins I need.”

Baz didn’t answer right away. He also didn’t drop his arms away from her. She stayed in his embrace, reassured for the moment but knowing the pain would come.

“I’d wager they’d be happy to let you stay.”

Gemma closed her eyes. Kincaids didn’t cry. It were one of the rules. Tears brought whippin’s. She’d learned that long ago.

“Would you object if I came by and visited during the weeks you’re here?” Baz asked quietly. “I likely can’t every day, but if I came when I could?”

She hadn’t the strength to resist that. “I would like that very much.”

She thought she felt him kiss the top of her head.

“You were aiming for the sitting room in order to claim a bit of peace,” he said. “Claim it. I’ll tell Móirín that you’ll have your supper when you’re ready.”

Gemma offered a quiet word of gratitude. He stepped back, and his arms fell away. He didn’t quite meet her eye as he turned and made his way back toward the kitchen. How tempted shewas to call him back, to say she would accept whatever affection he offered, that she didn’t need him to fully love her.

But it hadn’t been enough the first time.

She couldn’t put herself through that torture again.

Chapter 14

Barnabus and Brogan had followed the Dread Master’s instructions and organized a CALL effort in Shoreditch. The Donnellys were angels of mercy in the struggling areas of London and knew what was needed most; they’d easily learned that this corner of Shoreditch most needed help cleaning up the remains of a shop lost to fire so it could be rebuilt. A fire the DPS knew had been set by the Mastiff.

More Dreadfuls were there than had been at the previous CALL effort. Fortunately, that wasn’t likely to raise suspicions, as it could be explained by the increased difficulty of undertaking such a physically demanding task.

Barnabus didn’t know if Gemma would come as she had before. He hoped she would. He had no more than three weeks of her company remaining to him, and she’d chosen not to spend that time with him.

How many years would she be gone this time?Years.How could he endure that? He’d become so numb to her absence that, until she’d returned, he’d not realized how empty everything felt without her.

It always would now. Always.

“Tuck away the hangdog expression, Doc,” Parkington said, handing Barnabus a bucket filled with ash and broken bricks. “I spy your wife coming this way with Móirín Donnelly.”

Barnabus quickly handed the bucket off to Kumar, the next in line, then looked in the direction Parkington nodded.

Gemma.

He couldn’t help a smile. She’d come after all.

“Last I saw her, she looked worried,” Parkington said. “Stone and Móirín weren’t subtle about keeping me from gabbing with her.”


Tags: Sarah M. Eden Historical