Gemma straightened the antimacassar on the armchair nearest the fireplace. Baz’s uncle would be popping in that evening, and she wanted everything to be perfect. Finding family meant the world to Baz. He’d talked about little else over the past two days.

And, over the past two days, she’d done her utmost not to think about the forged letter for “Kate” she kept with her at all times or the notification of death she’d left in Baz’s desk for him to file when the time came. She had one week left before they had to be used. One week before she was supposed to be dead.

She could, she supposed, ask Mr. Sorokin to forge another death declaration, give her a bit more time. But the longer she waited, the more dangerous London became. Dying was her only escape. And her death was the only way Baz would be safe.

How could she possibly leave him now, when they finally had happiness within their grasp? But how could she even consider putting him in danger by remaining?

“Is he here yet?” Baz asked, stepping into the sitting room. He’d only just returned from looking in on Licorice at the Donnellys’ flat.

“Not yet.” She smoothed the front of her dress. It was the nicest one she had, but it weren’t much to look at.

Baz crossed to her. He snaked an arm around her waist, then kissed her slowly and deeply. She hooked her arms around his neck and melted against him.

“You’re beautiful, Gemma. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

She kept her arms snuggly where they were. “This dress ain’t much.”

“We’ll get you a new one if you’d like. But for tonight, don’t fret over it. My uncle will think the world of you; I’m certain of it.”

We’ll get you a new one. He fully expected her to stay. She’d not had the heart to remind him why that was such a bad idea. The last two days had been the happiest of her entire life. And he’d been bursting with excitement at introducing her to the man he hoped might be his uncle. She’d have to remind him of her plans, but she’d wait until the morning. Baz deserved a night surrounded by family he didn’t think he’d have to give up.

“So you’ve twigged this Mr. Snelling really is your uncle?”

“We’re both perfectly pleased to consider each other family, even if we can’t ever prove it.”

“I am so happy for you, Baz,” she said, though a very real part of her wanted to simply cry. Baz had longed for family for even longer than she’d suspected.

He gave her another quick kiss, then spun her out of his arms before crossing to his desk and setting down his doctoring bag.

“How is Licorice faring?” Gemma asked.