Page 11 of A Spot of Tea and Sorcery: Vol. 6

“Thank you, Miss Talbot,” he said quietly. He stepped into the nook, and she listened to sounds of tea pouring. He took a sip.

“How is it, Mr. Grimm?” she asked after a moment.

“Absolutely foul,” he responded.

“Good.” She nodded firmly. “That means it’s working.”

Mr. Grimm finished the tea then went back to work fetching flowers for her. She’d posted the NO TEA SERVICE sign in the window, due to the number of orders there were to get through. She simply didn’t have time to stop and brew teas and read fortunes this morning. Luna’s heart ached a little, knowing this meant she would never serve her tea clients again. No more Silly Young Things with their various woes, no countesses suffering the throes of heartache, or confused heiresses with too many suitors at a time. She glanced up from her work once to see Mr. Tippingsly at the window, shaking his head in despair at sight of the sign. The poor man; he really did hate Tuesdays, but her readings had always managed to give him a bit more confidence as he navigated the perils of the day. Luna watched him stroll sadly back up the sidewalk. Another goodbye unsaid.

Blinking back tears, she focused on a bundle of ranunculus in her hands, looping satin ribbon elegantly and securing it with a dab of glue.

Mr. Grimm was very silent throughout the morning. She only heard him speak if he was dealing directly with a customer. Luna was relieved. It helped her not to look at him too much, to keep her attention focused on her work. One by one, little nosegays and corsages took shape under her hands, and she would hand them off to her employer, who took them to the kitchen to store in the iceboxes. He deciphered her handwriting, kept her supplied with flowers and wire and tape, but for the most part left the task of arranging to her. He made one or two attempts, but his fingers shook too much to manage it.

It was nearing noon and the time for the first pickups, when Luna turned and found her shears just out of reach. “Mr. Grimm?” she said.

He looked up.

“Will you pass me those, please?” She nodded.

Grabbing the shears, he angled them so that she might take the handle. But then his grip tightened around the closed blades, and when she tugged, he did not release them. “Mr. Grimm?” Luna said, tugging again.

“Miss Talbot.” His voice was rough, husky.

Though she knew she shouldn’t, Luna could not resist a quick glance up to meet his gaze. Once met, she was caught. Caught in that earnest stare, much closer than she’d realized. Too close.

“Miss Talbot,” he said again, “I shouldn’t have . . . That is to say, I want you to know that I never wished to—”

“Mr. Grimm, please.” Luna moistened her lips. “Give me the shears.”

He took a step forward, simultaneously pulling on the shears so that she took another step toward him. She ought to let go, of course. She ought to retreat. But she didn’t. She let herself be dragged a little closer, still staring up into his blue eyes, so deep and so solemn.

“I know,” he said, speaking low, though there was no one around to hear them save the flowers. “I know you must see me as the worst of villains now.” His voice broke, and he took a moment to steady himself. “But I want you to believe me when I say you are . . . safe here. With me.” He dropped his gaze then to the shears between them. She watched his throat tense as he swallowed hard. “What I did yesterday in . . . in the kitchen. And before that, at the turret.” He drew a shuddering breath. “It was ungentlemanly of me. But it won’t happen again. I promise.”

Luna’s stomach turned over. She felt hot and cold simultaneously.

She should say something, shouldn’t she? Something smooth and cool and classy, something to dispel the tension of themoment. Or maybe she should laugh carelessly, pretend like it was all a great lark and meant nothing to her.

Only when she opened her mouth to speak, the only words that tried to make themselves spoken were:“But what if I want it to happen again?”

A warning voice in her head fairly screamed:Don’t say it!You’re leaving tomorrow! Before dawn! You’re so close now, don’t do anything stupid and mess it all up!

But just in that moment, all warnings and reason felt very distant, very far away. While Mr. Grimm’s face was very near, his lips parted as he struggled for air, as he waited for her reply. And she had to say something. Anything. Even if what she said was indescribably foolish.

“Mr. Grimm,” she began.

And then the shop bells rang.

Mr. Grimm looked up, over her head. “Of course,” he growled in the same sort of tone one might utter the worst of expletives.

Luna did not have to look. She knew. She knew exactly who it was who had just entered the shop. A flood of cold fear washed through her, but she forced herself to release her hold on the shears and turn.

Officer Ward strode up the center aisle. Looking fresh and vigorous, as though he’d not spent the better part of last night tracking down hoodlums and enforcing the law. As though he hadn’t discovered incontrovertible evidence of her own presence at the scene of the altercation and handed that evidence over to her without so much as an accusatory murmur. As though he couldn’t even now, with very little trouble, turn the whole situation round and drag her off to prison.

Luna’s stomach dropped to the floor. She’d been so overwrought by everything else which had happened, she’d scarcely let her mind dwell on that moment when she fairly pushed the wardsman out the shop door. But seeing Ward nowbrought it all rushing back. She felt dizzy, and the floor under her feet seemed to pitch.

Mr. Grimm shifted behind her. “I’ll be in the back,” he muttered and reached for the hinged portion of the counter. Did he truly mean to abandon her? To make her face Ward and whatever his intentions might be on her own?

Luna’s hand darted out, grasping his forearm. Mr. Grimm turned his head sharply, looking down at her from wide eyes, burning with heat. A hasty blink, however, and the heat vanished, disguised by a thin veil of indifference.