He tilted his head, let that settle. Was it only his pride that made him want to seek out these answers himself? To get back into the thick of things? No. If it were that, he’d rather scour the streets of London, hunting down this man who didn’t have his grey overcoat anymore. He’d want to stay close to her, to Dot, where he could protect them. Because it made him antsy to think of leaving them here alone when that bloke was still at large and obviously dangerous.

But still that urgency thrummed in his chest. “Can you trust me, Margot? Can you trust that I’m certain? That this is the Lord leading me?”

She made a noise he couldn’t quite classify—a squeak of protest? A whimper?—and gripped his wrist. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t. I can’t lose anyone else right now.”

He could promise to come home, but she wouldn’t believe him. She would have numbers to prove how many promised it and failed to deliver. And she had a point. There were never any guarantees. Even being sure God wanted him to do this didn’t mean he’d come home safely. Sometimes God’s will meant bullets searing flesh. Death coming too soon. Sometimes God’s will was to let man taste the consequences of his folly and his hatred and his supposed self-sufficiency.

Sometimes God let people die. Let His children break. And then pieced them back together into something new. Something that He could use for His glory instead of theirs.

He nudged her chin up, bent his head down. Caught her lips with his. They tasted as sweet as they had the first time. Were as hesitant and yet as welcoming. He savored each second, lingered one more. And then pulled away. “I need to go and talk with Camden. Why don’t you come and stay with Dot? You shouldn’t go home alone.”

She shook her head. “I’ll stay here. I need to work.”

He sighed, knowing well there’d be no talking her out of it. And it was quite possibly the safest place she could be, so he wouldn’t argue. With a brush of his fingers down her neck, he stepped away. “All right. I’ll let you know before I leave, if there’s time. I don’t know if we’ll have to wait for daylight to take off or not.”

She folded her arms across her middle, the red cardigan hugging her tight. “Drake.”

He paused a step away, lifted his brows.

She couldn’t seem to wrap her lips around whatever it was she wanted to say. She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them again. Dragged in a breath. Met his gaze. “Eighteen.” It had the sound of a word pulled by force from her mouth. Strenuous. Weighty.