She thought she felt him kiss the top of her head.

“You were aiming for the sitting room in order to claim a bit of peace,” he said. “Claim it. I’ll tell Móirín that you’ll have your supper when you’re ready.”

Gemma offered a quiet word of gratitude. He stepped back, and his arms fell away. He didn’t quite meet her eye as he turned and made his way back toward the kitchen. How tempted she was to call him back, to say she would accept whatever affection he offered, that she didn’t need him to fully love her.

But it hadn’t been enough the first time.

She couldn’t put herself through that torture again.

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Barnabus and Brogan had followed the Dread Master’s instructions and organized a CALL effort in Shoreditch. The Donnellys were angels of mercy in the struggling areas of London and knew what was needed most; they’d easily learned that this corner of Shoreditch most needed help cleaning up the remains of a shop lost to fire so it could be rebuilt. A fire the DPS knew had been set by the Mastiff.

More Dreadfuls were there than had been at the previous CALL effort. Fortunately, that wasn’t likely to raise suspicions, as it could be explained by the increased difficulty of undertaking such a physically demanding task.

Barnabus didn’t know if Gemma would come as she had before. He hoped she would. He had no more than three weeks of her company remaining to him, and she’d chosen not to spend that time with him.

How many years would she be gone this time? Years. How could he endure that? He’d become so numb to her absence that, until she’d returned, he’d not realized how empty everything felt without her.

It always would now. Always.

“Tuck away the hangdog expression, Doc,” Parkington said, handing Barnabus a bucket filled with ash and broken bricks. “I spy your wife coming this way with Móirín Donnelly.”

Barnabus quickly handed the bucket off to Kumar, the next in line, then looked in the direction Parkington nodded.

Gemma.

He couldn’t help a smile. She’d come after all.

“Last I saw her, she looked worried,” Parkington said. “Stone and Móirín weren’t subtle about keeping me from gabbing with her.”

“Were you particularly interested in doing so?” Barnabus eyed him, trying to decide if he ought to warn Gemma off or not.

Parkington pulled him out of the bucket line and off to the side. He lowered his voice. “It ain’t every day a fellow crosses paths with the daughter of Pacey Kincaid.”

Panic set in. Parkington knew.