Dampening her lips, Myrtle set off in pursuit, but something made her keep a distance between herself and the two men.

Perhaps it was the childlike fear that came in being completely and totally alone.

Or perhaps it was something more. Perhaps it is your intuition telling you that those men aren’t to be trusted.

“Stop this instant,” she said, needing to hear her own voice, but still keeping it low so as to not alert the unlikely pair of men of her presence . . . and pursuit. She reached the corner of the townhouse and peered around the edge.

The two men continued their peculiar assessment. Pointing at the lower windows . . .

Her eyes flared.

Of her father’s curiosity room.

But they’d insisted Mr. Phippen would send others; Myrtle had been told that they’d come two days earlier merely to inventory the items, and not to pack them away.

Perhaps they were . . . waiting for those people to arrive who would see to the rooms.

She shivered in the cold, clamping her teeth hard to keep them from chattering and revealing her presence to the unsuspecting men.

Except, the longer she waited, the clearer it became that either the party they waited for was very tardy or there was no one else coming.

As time marched on, the uneasy sensation in the pit of her belly grew.

If they were here to conduct work . . . why would they sneak down the side alley?

Would they not have been provided a key with which to gain entry by her family and Mr. Phippen?

Nay, something was not right here.

And she intended to find out precisely what that was.

She’d gone out early. Again.

Going off on her own without the benefit of a maid or sibling or strapping footman.

They were details he shouldn’t have noted.

Not as a man who didn’t involve himself in the lives of anyone . . . and certainly not those of strangers.

And yet, he’d been unable to keep himself from noting that detail.

Just as he’d not been able to not study her as she’d been on that window seat, staring across the way at his household. Just as her kin did.

Only, there’d been something different about that nose pressed to the glass pane this time.

Her focus hadn’t been reserved for just him and his household, as had been the case for her family.

Yes, her attention had periodically returned to his townhouse.

No, this time, she’d stared off into the streets, as if she were searching for someone.

And it really wasn’t his business who she’d been searching for.

Or the lonely little air to her.

Or anything about her.

It was why, with the unopened volume of Pride and Prejudice at his side, he’d wrenched himself away from his own window seat and snapped the curtains closed, certain he wouldn’t see her again.

But he did.