A great gust of wind swept past them, and in its wake, she was left trembling, tears pricking at her eyes. “And he signed over the paper to the owner of the Journal, so I suppose I may have my job back, but how can I…? How can I go back? Ainsworth was at the university yesterday. He was looking for the timepiece. And now he’s dead.”

“Miss Daly.” Guy’s voice was gentle. They came to a stop along the river’s edge, and Catherine set a hand upon the parapet wall, the coolness of the damp stone seeping through her glove. She looked up at Guy’s face, at his dark eyes, his kind expression. He asked forthrightly, “What do you want to do?”

She closed her eyes for an instant, taking a breath. “I need to find out what happened to him, Mr. Nolan. If it’s connected in any way to the timepiece, we can’t let Mr. Smith be caught up in it.”

Guy nodded. He looked out over the river. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.” Yet there was a certain strain to his voice, and she could tell something else was weighing on his mind. When he placed his hand on the parapet next to hers, Catherine almost took hold of it.

She said, “I know you’re going to the cemetery tonight with Mr. Mallory. Let me come with you.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I’d like that.”

They walked on, heading for the watchmaker’s shop. Guy stopped at a small bakery, and Catherine welcomed the warmth of it, breathing in the smell of fresh bread, the sweetness of the cakes. They waited their turn at the counter, and she asked, “Is your father at the shop?”

“Yes. And Mr. Smith is upstairs.” He turned toward her. “Will you tell Mr. Smith… about Mr. Ainsworth?”

“It won’t do any good to keep it from him. I believe we’ve enough trouble already, enough secrets, without adding to the pile.”

Guy’s mouth quirked. “That’s the truth.”

He bought a loaf of bread, wrapped it in cloth, and tucked it under his arm. He offered his other arm to Catherine as they stepped back out onto the street. “Sydney will be coming by after dark,” he said. “You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you? I’ll tell my father I’ve invited you and Mr. Smith. It’s not often we entertain guests. I think it’ll do us all good.” He smiled at her, slight but real. “What do you think, Miss Daly?”

“I think that sounds lovely.” And she held on to his arm a little tighter.

Dinner at the Nolans’ was conducted much the same way as it was back at her family home. Catherine sat beside Owen, across from Guy’s father, and she thought again how similar Guy was to Henry, their shared mannerisms. They both gestured with their fork as they talked and leaned back in their chair when they laughed. Catherine missed her parents greatly in that moment, a familiar ache lodging in her heart. She felt a stab of envy, too—how fortunate Guy was he needn’t work elsewhere—but that wasn’t fair. Guy and Henry were without the rest of their family. Catherine couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Guy’s father to lose a wife and two sons in one fell swoop.