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He leaned close and whispered, “If anything were to happen to you, Lily Ridley … I do not know what I would do.”

She softened. Slowly, her arms encircled his waist. She rested her cheek against his chest, and he felt the tension ease from her frame.

“Did something happen?” she asked quietly. “I was … I expected to see you when I awoke, but then you were gone. No one said a word, and I had two strangers trailing me all day.”

Brendan lifted his head. “You did not receive my note?”

She pulled back, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “There was no note. I searched the house. I looked in every room.”

“I left it on the pillow beside you. Perhaps it slipped onto the floor?”

Lily let out a low, frustrated sound. “I thought you had vanished. I thought you had simply …” She broke off, collecting herself. “What did the note say?”

Brendan released her and gestured toward her chair. She resumed her seat, watching him closely. He returned to his own and lifted his tea, sipping slowly before responding.

“I was sleeping beside you when I awoke to a crash. Someone had been rifling through my room and overturned the water jug in their haste. That moment confirmed it. One of the servants is involved. My first thought was for your safety. That is why I sent for the Johns. Then, after speaking with Briggs, Halmesbury, and Richard, I was compelled to seek out more answers.”

Lily’s shoulders sagged slightly. “So … all this was about keeping me safe? Not …”

Her gaze flickered to the gossip sheets still strewn across the table.

Brendan tilted his head, confused. “Yes, of course. What else would it be?”

She shrugged faintly, her voice low. “Nothing. I … was not sure what to think.”

Lily did not agree to leave Ridley House, but she consented to consider it and to accept the continued presence of the Johns. She could not, in good conscience, argue against the reality that a woman of her petite stature might struggle to fend off a desperate or frenzied attacker. And someone had been killed. The threat, however shadowy, could not be dismissed.

Still, the conversation had left her ill at ease. She reassured herself that Brendan—athletic, alert, and strong—would be capable of defending himself should danger come his way. At least, she hoped that was true. He certainly seemed tense enough to react quickly, his entire manner imbued with vigilance beneath the surface.

Despite her reluctance to part so early in their marriage, especially when her most urgent hope was to transform it into a love match, Brendan’s logic held merit. If she returned to her parents’ home for a time, he could pursue the investigation without the added burden of worrying for her safety. And she, in turn, could go about her days unburdened by the silent scrutiny of two large men trailing her through every corridor.

Leaving the breakfast room, with First John falling into step behind her, Lily noticed that the rain had ceased altogether. The sudden stillness within Ridley House felt eerie, too quiet after the relentless rhythm that had dominated the past day.

As she rounded a corner, she nearly collided with Michaels in the dimly lit passage. She gave a slight gasp, more startled than she cared to admit. Ordinarily, one could hear the butler approaching. His heavy step echoed with predictable rhythm upon the wooden floors. But this time, there had been no sound.

Had he been standing in the shadows?

Lily stiffened, unease prickling her skin. She disliked the thought, but Brendan’s revelations had seeded mistrust. She hated to admit it, but Ridley House no longer felt entirely her own.

Perhaps Brendan was right. Perhaps she should go home. It was no good leaping like a frightened ninny every time a servant appeared without warning.

“Is the carriage ready?”

Michaels pursed his lips ever so slightly, as though the question wounded his professional pride.

“Of course, milady. You requested it for ten o’clock, so⁠—”

From the entry hall, the deep toll of the casement clock cut through his words. Michaels raised a single eyebrow, letting the chimes answer her more pointedly than he had.

“May I have my pelisse and bonnet?”

He gave a short bow and disappeared into the gloomy hallway to fetch her things, leaving Lily alone with her thoughts.

Her conversation with Brendan lingered in her mind. To learn that he had been running about Town on her behalf, to protect her, had stolen the fire from her indignation. It was rather sweet. Unsettling, yes, but undeniably sweet.

She had meant to ask him about the broadsheet. About Lady Slight. But the moment had not felt right.

Or perhaps, a small voice whispered within her, you are simply afraid of the answer.