Two days passed without a word from Lem. Therese was recovering quickly, and now that she was conscious, she asked constantly for her beau. No one had the heart to tell her about the rather dangerous assignment he'd been sent out on.

"Please, I just want to see him for a moment," the girl pleaded with Booker as he took her pulse.

Trinket and Daphne, standing to the side, exchanged an anxious glance.

"If I'm still contagious, I promise I won't get too close to him," she continued. "I only need to know he's nearby. Please, sir, I beg of you."

"Your dear beau is out working hard to provide a better life for you," Booker replied, his eyes on his pocket watch. "Unfortunately, medical treatment is not cheap, so he's doing his best to raise the needed funds."

Therese's lip trembled, and she stifled a sob. "He already works so much. I can't believe I'm making him do more."

Daphne hurried to the girl's side with a fresh cup of tea as Booker snapped his watch shut and rose up to join Trinket. "I'm sure he's very dutiful in his occupation," he said with a bitter edge.

While even Trinket would admit it was a bit difficult to have sympathy for any of the Mice, seeing Lem's genuine concern for Therese made her wonder if perhaps some of those involved with the gang were misled souls. Anyone desperate enough would be willing to go to all sorts of morally questionable lengths to survive.

As if reading her thoughts, Booker leaned towards her and whispered, "Snakes are notorious for seeking warmth from any source they can. Just because one decides to curl up in bed with a pretty young girl, doesn't mean he's any less cold-blooded than his brethren."

Trinket drew her brows together. "You didn't see the way he broke down after you left the room. I'd be hard-pressed to believe he's only using her for warmth."

"Lord, leave it to you to find good in a Mouse. They're heartless, the lot of them."

The image of Scales speaking to the memory of his deceased sister made Trinket think otherwise. "They're human, Booker. And even the cruelest human once loved something more than himself."

"Yes, well, it's hard to see any humanity in the same people who tortured an innocent little girl to death."

His voice caught on the word "death." Trinket reached out to take his hand. He offered her a sad smile and then heaved a sigh as he turned back to the bed.

"As your doctor, I felt you needed more rest and less agitation," he said, banishing any trace of emotion and regaining an authoritative air. "Your beau has been by a number of times to call upon you, but I worried your health was in too fragile a state to receive visitors. When I'm satisfied you're truly on the road to recovery, then you two may have a lovers' reunion. Until then, mind Daphne. She's the expert when it comes to conquering colds."

He flashed Daphne a grin, and though she was obviously still displeased with the way he'd handled things with Lem, she inclined her head respectfully and resumed placing a wet cloth on Therese's head.

Booker turned to leave, and Trinket followed, closing the door behind her. "Don't you feel it's odd we haven't heard anything from Lem?" she asked. "You'd think with his sweetheart in your custody, he'd at least be stopping by to see about her health."

Hesitating, Booker glanced back at the door and let out a long breath. "Yes, I've been having similar concerns."

He continued on towards the stairs. Trinket's heart clenched, and she chased after him. "Could the Mice have learned of his betrayal? Could they have—"

She couldn't say the words, but Booker clearly understood what she was getting at. He paused halfway down the stairs and drummed his fingers on the railing. "I'm afraid it's entirely possible. Probable, even."

Slumping against the wall, Trinket clutched at her chest. "Oh, poor Therese. What will she do?"

"While I highly doubt the Mice will act against her with him gone, I've taken precautions all the same."

He pulled from his waistcoat pocket what looked to be a ticket. Taking it from him, Trinket found it was for the steam engine. "You're sending her away?" she asked.

"I thought it the best option. There's a little alehouse where I grew up that I'm sure would hire her, particularly with my recommendation. The owner owes me. Saved his daughter's life after a botched back alley abortion."

A tiny shiver went down Trinket's spine as she handed the ticket back. "And what about the information? About the body?"

Shrugging, he proceeded down the stairs. "I have ways of getting what I want."

Something about his tone made her pulse jump, and she raced after him. "You're not going to make trouble with the Mice, are you?" she asked, following him into the laboratory.

"Playing a friendly game of cards is not making trouble," he said as he moved swiftly down the stone steps.

"Booker, no!"

She grabbed hold of his arm, forcing him to face her. He sighed and gripped her shoulders gently. "It'll be fine. Just a simple fact-finding mission, nothing more," he said.

"A fact-finding mission that got a young man killed."

"We don't know for sure that he's dead."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When is this card game?"

"Trinket—"

"Tonight?"

"I don't—"

"I'm coming with you."

She turned to hurry up the stairs, but he spun her back with more force than she'd expected.

"No," he said firmly.

"I'm not letting you do this alone."

"Trinket, no."

He emphasized his words with a quick shake. Trinket, taken by surprise, let out a small gasp. This seemed to sober him up. However, though his gaze softened, he did not relinquish his hold on her. His cognac eyes wandered back and forth over her face, filled with panic and fear.

"You're too much of a risk," he said, his voice nearly a whisper.

She inhaled sharply. Those words hurt more than she thought they would. "So you think I'll be a hindrance?"

"What? Lord, no. You're never a hindrance to me."

"Then how else am I supposed to take what you just said?"

He hesitated, his eyes wandering again. When he finally opened his mouth to reply, all that came out was a frustrated growl. Releasing her, he turned away and leaned against his writing desk.

"The problem," he said so softly she had to take a step closer to hear, "is not that you're a hindrance. The problem is that I am selfish. The mere thought of living a life without you sends me into a panic. And the Mice realize this. Especially Scales. He knows how much you mean to me. And if you're there with me tonight, all I'll be able to think about is whether you're safe and what I might do if your safety is threatened. And Scales will see that. And he'll use it against us both. I can't let that happen."

Taking a deep breath, Trinket moved closer and rested a hand on his back. Was he trembling? "Booker, as much as you don't want to imagine a future without me, I certainly cannot imagine one without you. I don't know what would become of me."

"Trust me, you will not be wanting should something happen to me."

She furrowed her brow. "What are you talking about?"

He turned to face her, taking her hands in his own. "I've made arrangements regarding my estate. My money, the house, even my practice. In the event of my death, they all go to you."

She blinked a few times, trying to process this information. Was she hearing things right? Had he just said he'd willed everything he owned to her? "Wait, what? I don't . . . why . . . why would you—"

"Because I take care of the people I love. I'm not going to be like Benedict's father who allowed his own son to flounder and struggle. You've had enough hardship in your life. I know you're brilliant and capable, but you shouldn't have to fight to survive. You deserve a good, comfortable life."

The shock of this sudden revelation rendered her speechless. When she finally snapped out of her daze, she couldn't help but laugh. "Are you really so stupid as to think that's what I'm worried about? Booker, I'm more concerned with having you by my side than I am about having a comfortable life."

"It's a real concern we have to—"

"Listen, I do appreciate the amount of thought that's gone into this. And I'm not saying it isn't wise to have your affairs in order. Actually, it's surprisingly responsible for you."

He gave a teasing frown, followed by a gentle chuckle.

"But all the money and security in the world won't mean anything to me if you're not there with me," she went on. "Booker, my life was supposed to end the day I met you. I was so determined to kill myself that I willingly walked into the jaws of a monstrous wolf. Then you showed up and pulled me into this bizarre world of science and adventure. You told me I was brilliant."

Pulling her closer, he said, "You are brilliant."

She smiled. "You saw my broken mind and decided there was something exceptional there. And you opened my eyes to see it for myself. You've given me new strength, new meaning to my existence. My madness doesn't scare you away. You sit there by my side and see me through the worst of it. I can't lose that, Booker. I can't lose you."

He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard as he ran a hand over her hair. "But accidents happen. I mean, look at how many times I've been stabbed or shot. You've seen the scars. There's a very good chance I won't live long enough to become a crabby old man."

Laying a hand against his chest, Trinket drew comfort from his steady heartbeat. "I understand. And if that day should come, I hope the strength you've helped me find in myself will keep me going. However, I see no reason why I should stand off to the side and watch you jump headfirst into danger. You must admit, your chances of survival are far better when I'm nearby."

With a soft laugh, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "I suppose I can't argue with that sort of factual logic."

Her muscles relaxed as she sank deeper into his embrace. A slight tremor ran through her body, and she only realized then how much this talk of Booker dying had shaken her. She hoped that if the unthinkable should happen, she'd be able to keep control of her twisted psyche and continue living. But a life without Booker was not a thought she wished to entertain. She'd lost her closest friend once before and it did a number on her mind. Losing Booker could be what truly broke her.

Their quiet moment was interrupted by a clatter from above. They both glanced up at the ceiling and then locked eyes before scurrying to the stairs.

"Where'd it come from?" Trinket asked as they stumbled into the hallway.

"I think the kitchen," Booker said, taking her hand as they hurried towards the commotion.

They came to a skidding halt in the doorway. Daphne was already there, kneeling before what appeared to be a pile of dirty, ragged clothes on the floor. But then there was movement and a low groan as the pile rolled over to reveal a body. A broken, bruised, and bloody body.

Lem.