sp; “No. We cannot risk hindering her work for the government.”

“Then come. Let me help you to the street, and we can hail a hackney.”

Daniel snorted. “I can walk, Daphne. I’ve been shot in the arm, not the leg. And I’m confident the lead only grazed the skin.” His attention moved past her shoulder, to the few people who’d found the courage to venture out of The Mariners. “As I said before, the alley is not a place where one lingers.”

“A graze to you is probably a gaping hole to someone else.” She took his hand rather than his arm and guided him back through the narrow walkway. Another man may have taken umbrage at being treated like a child, but the caring, intimate gesture roused hope in his chest where he’d dared never hope before. “If you’re hurt, I’d rather you were honest with me.”

“Very well. It might be a little deeper than a graze.” Until he removed his coat, he could not give a more definitive answer.

She sniffed numerous times and cleared her throat.

“It’s all right,” he said as they exited the alley. “There’s no need for tears. I’m not going to die.” It was said in jest, but she failed to appreciate his humour.

“Don’t even joke about such a thing. Of course you’re not going to die.”

“Would you miss me, Daphne?” Now he’d started, he couldn’t help but tease her. Besides, it kept his mind off the pain pounding in his arm. “Would you miss my constant complaining, my constant need to prove this is no work for a woman?”

“Well, I’d not miss that. But I would miss your logical approach and your undeniable courage.” She cast him a sidelong glance and her gaze softened. “I’d miss the warmth in your voice when you lose yourself for a moment and forget to be angry with the world.”

He stopped walking, stood rigid on the pavement and considered what she’d said. She was right. Only in her company did his troubles seem insignificant. Only in her company was he able to glimpse true happiness. Suddenly, the pain in his arm was nothing compared to the ache filling his chest.

The urge to kiss her took hold.

These overwhelming emotions were the reason he stayed away.

“Come, we can’t wait here,” she took his arm, “although the man would be a fool to attempt to shoot at us again. Hopefully, we’ll not have to walk too far to find a hackney.”

The mere mention of the shooter dragged his mind from his fanciful musings. “I think it’s fair to assume we were followed here. Unless the chandler keeps a pistol under his bench and is disgruntled because we didn’t buy more than a length of twine.”

“I told you, someone has been following me about for years.”

“Yes, but during that time you’ve hardly known he was there. And now, in the space of a day, you’ve almost been killed twice.” Daniel considered both events: the accident in Covent Garden, and the shooting in the alley. Was Daphne the target?

Daphne tutted. “When you say it like that it doesn’t make any sense.”

“There is another explanation.” He knew she would overreact when he told her. “The Turners informed me that there’s a price on my head.”

Daphne stopped abruptly. “A price? You mean someone wants you dead?” Her eyes grew so wide they were liable to burst from their sockets. “Someone wants you dead, and you only think to tell me now!”

“Hush. Keep walking,” he said, practically dragging her along the road with him. “Death threats are nothing new to me.”

She mumbled something incoherent. “Why on earth would you walk the streets at night when you know your life is in danger?”

“Daphne, if I panicked every time someone threatened to harm me, I’d never leave my bed.” He sighed. “Besides, you were the intended victim in Covent Garden, and we cannot know for certain who was the target in the alley.”

Daniel cursed. He was missing a vital piece of this puzzle.

They found themselves on Tower Hill and had no difficulty hiring a hackney there. Once safely inside the cab, Daniel tried to use the time to think. But for some reason, the analytical part of his mind could only focus on trying to guess what Daphne was thinking.

A curious hum left her lips but seconds passed before she spoke. “What if the stalker has no preference over which one of us he kills? What if the point is to force us apart?”

“For what purpose?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps together we stand a better chance of finding the truth.”

“I need time to think,” he said, patting his arm gently to check his coat sleeve wasn’t damp with blood. “Can I look at the list of names?”

“Certainly.” She fumbled about in her reticule and handed him the folded note.

Tags: Adele Clee Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net