She froze at the sudden coolness in his eyes. They’d taken on a steel dagger look that made her shiver. “No. He swore he’d never hurt me.”
Creed stood with a sigh and presented her with his back. “Good, because if he so much as thought to do so...” He grunted and waved a hand. “Well, let us just say it would not end well for him, my dear, I can promise you that. But none of that matters. I knew he’d see you for the gem that you are.” He turned and smiled. “Don’t worry about me. I want you to marry the marquess either way.”
She frowned, not understanding his reply. “But… he doesn’t like you.”
Creed laughed. “My dear, if we went by those standards, I dare say that you’d never marry.” He was grinning once more. “No one likes me, but that matters not. I’ve finally managed to find a solution to my problem.”
She straightened in her chair. “You have?”
He nodded. “Yes, but all you must do for now is marry the marquess. You plan to marry him, don’t you?”
She’d been leaning toward doing so, but if her marriage to Morgan would also free her uncle from his current state, she’d do anything he asked. It helped that Morgan had begun to grow on her. He still frightened her slightly, but she could tell from Creed’s earlier anger that her uncle would never let any harm come her way. “I’m seeing him later today.”
“Good, very good.” He strolled over to the window and sighed again before gazing out at the bricked building on the other side. It was obvious he was distracted.
“What the matter?”
He looked at her and said, “I’ve a gift for you, but I confess I’m unsure if I should give it to you or not.”
She smiled. “Oh, but I love presents.” Creed sent her flowers at least once a month with other small trinkets that she adored. Some of the girls at her school had been envious of the way he showered her with gifts. “What is it?”
He laughed. “It’s not like any of the others.” His expression became serious then. “Philomena, I’ll need you to carry this gift with you always.”
Her brows drew together but she nodded as Creed walked across the room before picking up a small wooden box. He strolled back to where she sat and took his own seat before placing the box on her lap.
She smiled at him then stared at the box. It was a letter keepsake box with painted details and even a small lock. The handle and its hinges were done in silver. She took the key he offered and opened the lid. Light caught what lay on a bed of black silk and her heart jumped into her throat before she turned to him, her body trembling. “What is this?”
He seemed sad. “I know you know what it is, my dear.”
She looked back into the box and glared at the small dagger inside. Its sheath was white with a wreath pattern carved into its metal, as though any detail could change it from the ugly thing it was. “I can’t take this.”
“You need it.” He took the lid from her and then one of her hands. “Philomena,
I might not always be around. I’d feel better if you carried this with you.”
“Don’t say that.” Tears glittered her eyes. “You’re all I have, Uncle.”
He looked away before turning to her again. “Swear to me that you’ll wear this. Please. I’m not asking you to use it. I’d never ask that of you, not even if it were to save me. But it would give me some measure of comfort if you had it on you. Will you do that for me, Mena?”
She thought about the moment Morgan had been stabbed the previous day and her reaction to the scene. There had been nothing she could have done to save him, but perhaps if she’d had something like this… She stared at the dagger again. She was marrying a spy, which was obviously a very dangerous career. It was probably best she did carry the dagger. “All right.” Her reply came short and light. “I’ll wear it.”
“Good.” He stood and motioned for a maid to come into the room. “Amy will show you how to put it on. Don’t tell anyone what’s in that box, not even your lady’s maid. Let them believe it is nothing but letters, and the servants will most likely leave it alone.” He stood and helped her up.
“Why can’t I tell my lady’s maid?”
“Added precautions.” He grabbed her arms and gave them a light stroke. “Things have been… going worse for me, Philomena. I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”
His fear made her heart race. “What’s happening? Did someone try to… hurt you?”
He turned away. “Let Amy help you and then you must leave.”
She grabbed him once more and kissed his cheek. “I won’t tell Allie about the dagger. Be safe.”
“Anything for you, my dear.” He touched her cheek and was gone. Their meetings were never long, as her uncle swore he had many things to do, but now she wondered if he always sent her away because he was in danger.
Amy helped her learn to tie the dagger to her thigh, and she walked around for a bit to get used to the added weight, but it was still awkward when she finally left. She was inside the carriage and blindfolded before the carriage pulled away, barely paying attention to the shouts of a boy selling the morning paper.
Her thoughts stayed on the dagger at her thigh. She felt no safer than she had before her arrival and in fact felt worse off for the whole visit. Her uncle was in danger, and there was nothing she could do about it. When she thought of whom she might ask for help, her throat battled between either letting out a laugh or a sob. Morgan was a spy. Surely, he would know a way to save a man she dearly cared for.
But in her heart, she knew he wouldn’t. Not yet.
First, she’d have to prove her uncle’s innocence, but how could she prove such a thing?
She prayed the answers would find her and soon.
* * *
12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
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“Make sure she never leaves me again.” …
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Morgan set aside his tea that had been laced heavily with laudanum. He’d not wanted to use it before, but the pain in his side had grown to such a distraction that he’d had no other choice. Movement was making it all the worse, but he refused to miss the meeting with Silas.
The bald man sat at a table in Morgan’s upstairs sitting room and leaned back in his chair as he spoke. “I know nothing.”
Simon, who rarely sat for long, was standing and placed his hands on the table as he stared down as Silas, giving him his most intimidating look. “So, you would like us to believe that three men are missing from your operation and you’ve no clue where they’ve gone?”
Silas lifted his blue eyes and stared directly into Simon’s eyes. “They’re the reason I left. I thought to do so before I went missing as well. I thought you might have had a hand in that. If not you, then Creed. I knew it was time to leave.”
“You suspect Creed?” Morgan rested his hand on the table, tapping his fingers gently against the hardwood surface. “I thought you said you never met Creed.”