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“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Smiling in victory, he straightened to his full height and dramatically bowed. He looked like something out of a Victorian novel. What an eccentric, odd, well-meaning man. “Then I shall bid you goodnight, fair lady Marguerite. I will see you on the morrow.”

She snickered. “Whatever you say, Mr. Darcy.”

“Pah.” He straightened. “Mr. Darcy? Hardly. I’m much more of a Heathcliff.” He strolled away from her, cane tapping on the concrete.

“That probably isn’t a good thing,” she called after him.

“Never said it was.”

She watched him walk away and couldn’t help but smile. What an odd man. Well, now I know I’ve read some decent novels. Or at least I paid attention in high school English class. With a shake of her head, she unlocked the front door to the apartment building and headed up to her studio on the top floor.

She yawned, rubbing her eyes. She was exhausted. She hadn’t slept well the night before, having not taken her amitriptyline in hopes of having more hallucinations. She wanted to figure out who she was. She wanted to get better.

But she did promise Gideon she’d get some sleep, and right now, sleep sounded amazing. Unlocking her door, she stepped in, locked it behind her, and flipped the lights on once the deadbolt was clicked into place.

Turning around, she screamed.

A hand snapped over her mouth.