A man who wanted nothing to do with any other woman, or the world on the whole, because his heart had belonged fully to her?

Again, the green-eyed monster took a bite out of Myrtle’s conscience and the corner of her mind now fixed on the man occupying that townhouse.

He—

A shadow flickered down below, and her heart raced as she looked for a glimpse of him.

And then she froze.

It was . . . them, once more.

The lion and the badger, as she’d taken to thinking of the two.

All her musings about Val were instantly forgotten as fear slipped in.

Eventually, the day was coming when Mr. Phippen’s entire team arrived on the doorstep, intent on beginning work. She’d already resolved that if they were to do so, she’d simply greet them and explain that there had been a change in her family’s scheduling, and she would ask them to leave.

Except there was no steady stream of workers.

There was no arrival of equipment.

It was just they two: the lion and the badger.

And just like the previous two times she’d caught sight of them, they perused her home the way a beggar child might the crystal windows outside Gunter’s.

Her fingers quaking, and her teeth trembling along with them, she reached for the window’s clasp; fiddling with the metal hook, she managed to free it and throw it open.

Several birds perched on the ledge right outside took noisy flight, squawking their shock at the interruption.

A rush of cold blew into the room to greet her, slapping at Myrtle with the ferocity of this particular winter’s morn.

The two men below glanced quickly up.

“G-good day, sirs,” she called down, praying they attributed that quavering to the cold and not to the fear that licked away all logic. “M-my family has been delayed in our travels and will remain through Christmas.” She added a dramatic pause. “Though they’ve sent word to Mr. Phippen,” she announced, crossing her fingers at her back. “And I’m sure you’re aware about the delay in the construction project.”

The lion scratched his forehead, or rather at the place where his brow surely was. The thick red curls hanging about his face made it nearly impossible for him to do anything but touch the hair there. “No one said anything to us about a change in schedule.”

“Isn’t that the way.” She made a tsking sound with her tongue. “I am very sorry that your employer failed to inform you. I—” Myrtle stopped midsentence and looked over her shoulder in an exaggerated way. “What was thaaaat, Mother?” she called in the direction of a pretend parent. “Yes, I . . . know . . . I will shut them. I’ll be along shortly.”

Turning her attention back, she glanced down at the two men below.