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W illing to kill for .

Mrs. Johnstone’s grim warning unleashed a chill along the length of Macie’s spine. As she laced her fingers into a loose knot, Finn came to stand behind her chair. His touch upon her shoulders was firm, so gently reassuring.

“I am sorry to be the bearer of a distressing truth,” Mrs. Johnstone went on. “Rest assured we will take whatever precautions are needed to protect ye.”

The professor’s murmured word echoed in her memory. Murder . His voice had been weak. Yet filled with desperation.

“After I came upon the old man, he tried to warn me. At the time, I thought he was delirious. He told me to leave.” She pulled in a calming breath. “He said someone would come after me.”

“He may have wanted to protect ye,” Mrs. Johnstone said. “Well, then, it’s a very good thing I’m here.”

Macie pulled in a low breath, calming herself as Mrs. Johnstone’s words triggered a fresh warning. Before she could utter the question that sprang to mind, Mrs. Tuttle bustled in with a tea service on a silver tray.

“A good thing, eh?” the housekeeper scoffed, crinkling her nose as she placed a delicate cup before their guest and filled it with piping hot tea. “Are you thinking to bash the villain in the noggin with that enormous brolly of yours?”

“That is one of its uses,” Mrs. Johnstone said with an enigmatic smile.

“Mrs. Tuttle, please,” Macie implored her tart-tongued housekeeper to be civil, then turned back to Mrs. Johnstone. “You mentioned that Amelia asked you to come here. Precisely what do you have in mind?”

“Quite simply, I am here to assist in yer defense until the danger has passed.”

Macie’s attention wandered to the oversized parasol propped against the chair. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was inclined to agree with Mrs. Tuttle’s skepticism. “I’m sorry, but I don’t entirely understand.”

“Ye will. In time.” Mrs. Johnstone added a splash of milk to her tea. “First, ye need time to quiet yer thoughts after this morning’s unpleasant news.”

Mrs. Tuttle frowned. “If there’s a maniac running about the city with his eyes on our Macie, she needs to be heading home to the country, far from this place.”

“There is no maniac running about,” Macie said. “I have no intention of leaving London.”

“Your mum and your papa would think otherwise,” the housekeeper said. “They’d want you to come home.”

Macie gave her head a little shake. “I shall be cautious.”

Mrs. Tuttle frowned. “I’m not sure you know the meaning of the word.”

“I shall be exceedingly vigilant.” Macie flashed a little smile at the protective woman who’d helped bandage her scrapes and bruises when she was a girl in braids. “I give you my word. Now, will you stop your worrying?”

“I’m not sure I know how to do that.” Mrs. Tuttle folded her arms and regarded Finn for a long moment. “You will watch over her, won’t you?”

“I will protect her.” Finn’s amber-brown gaze locked with Macie’s, solemn and determined. “With every fiber of my being.”

*

Settling into a cozy nook of her study, Macie allowed herself time to simply drink in the quiet. Cleo curled up near her feet, her contented purring like a soothing tonic. She reached to pet her, then selected the pencils she would use for her sketches.

Oh, how she relished the calmness. Macie leaned back against the plush cushions of her window seat and put pencil to paper. Sketching out ideas for her next photographic endeavor at the old theater in the West End, she felt the tension drain from her body. The concert hall had not been used in more than a year, but rumors swirled about the spirits of performers of days long past who still treaded the boards of the grand stage. Very soon, she’d venture inside with her camera, ghosts or not. Somehow, it felt as if she were on borrowed time.

There was no telling how long she’d be in London before she’d be forced to return to her family’s country home. Jon would soon return from Scotland. Upon learning of the professor’s murder, would he insist that she leave the city?

As she mapped out her plan for the exhibit, she drew heavy lines against the paper, if only to release some of the tension welled within her. Jon would be very displeased to know she’d stumbled upon a murdered man. Her ever-practical brother would do whatever it took to avoid any risk. After all, it would certainly create a nasty scandal if she fell prey to a villain, now wouldn’t it? Heaven only knew Papa and Mum would never let him hear the end of it.

Macie’s thoughts turned back to her planning. Moments later, Nell peeked in the door. “Might Mrs. Johnstone and I have a word with you?”

“Of course,” she said, even as her delightful peace flitted away. “I’ll join you in the parlor.”

As soon as Macie entered the room, she read the concern on their features. Nell handed her a cup of tea and sat by her side on the sofa. Cleo leapt up onto the cushioned back, her imperious expression making it seem as if she actually took in their discussion.

“I am aware that Finn is seeing to yer protection.” Mrs. Johnstone regarded her with a warm gaze. “Amelia asked me to assist. If a threat does indeed exist, think of me as another line of defense.”

Her unexpected words cut through Macie’s apprehension. Not another bodyguard . Not another chaperone .

Much less a woman who carried herself like a stern Scottish nanny.

“Good heavens, no.” The words tumbled from Macie’s mouth before she could hold them back.

Mrs. Johnstone’s brows quirked. “No?”

“No.” Macie held her voice steady. “I have no need of a chaperone.”

Mrs. Johnstone softly shook her head. “I have no intention of serving as such, though I would enjoy accompanying ye about the city from time to time.”

Macie let out the breath she’d been holding. “What do you have in mind?” She slanted Nell a glance. “It would appear I am the only one who does not know.”

“In my life, I’ve enjoyed occupations which many might consider unconventional. That has always worked to my advantage,” Mrs. Johnstone explained. “I have acquired specialized skills in the area of personal defense. Specifically, techniques and resources a woman might readily put to use.”

“My brother has shown me ways to deter an assault,” Macie said, her memory conjuring an image of a drink-addled lord, a codpiece, and her well-placed knee.

“Excellent. That is a good start,” Mrs. Johnstone said. “Perhaps enough to fend off an overly amorous scoundrel. But sadly not enough to stop a determined criminal.”

“That is where Finn comes in.”

Mrs. Johnstone’s forehead crinkled. “Ye wish to be tethered to a protector’s side every moment of the day?”

“Of course not.”

“Very good.” Mrs. Johnstone’s words were met with Cleo’s luxurious yawn. The woman’s serious expression brightened. “Would ye like to see what I have to offer by way of instruction?”

“See?” Macie sat up a bit straighter.

“At times, words simply will not do.” Mrs. Johnstone offered a cagey smile, then went to the door. “Finn, would ye please join us?”

He seemed to hesitate as he entered the room, but smiled as he met Macie’s gaze. “So, what do ye think?”

“If nothing else, I am intrigued.”

Mrs. Johnstone turned to him. “I do believe a demonstration is in order.”

Finn regarded her with the look of a man heading to the Tower. “Ye don’t mean—”

She nodded and threw a glance toward Macie. “Consider it a sacrifice for the greater good.”

He cocked a brow. “A sacrifice, eh?”

“Oh, I do like the sound of this,” Nell spoke up with an unusual glee. Goodness, this was a side to her friend Macie had seldom seen.

“I will not hurt ye,” Mrs. Johnstone assured Finn, her tone not quite sincere.

“We both know better,” he countered.

She flashed a half-smile. “A brawny man like ye could not possibly fear a woman old enough to be your mum.”

“I should’ve stayed in Scotland,” Finn uttered under his breath.

Mrs. Johnstone flashed a look of challenge. “Ye know what to do.”

“Blast it.” Finn muttered, as if for his own ears only. And then, louder. “This is for ye, Macie.”

With that, he charged headlong toward Mrs. Johnstone.

Macie gasped. Surely Finn—all six lean-muscled feet of him—would not attack a woman. “Stop, Finn!”

Her plea was unnecessary.

Mrs. Johnstone’s arm whipped forward, blocking his advance. With sure, confident motions, she seized his arm. And twisted it. Hard. Another quick, sure movement, and she slammed him to the floor.

Ooof. Finn landed with a thud. Lying flat on his back on the rug, he stared up at the ceiling. “Blast it, I’d forgotten how much that hurt.”

Mrs. Johnstone brushed her hands together as if wiping away dust. “All part of the training. Ye know that, Finn.”

For a moment, Macie took in the display without a word. For her part, Nell could not hide her delight at the spectacle.

“Most impressive,” Nell gushed. “Might I have a go?”

Finn shot her a glare. “Not on yer life.”

Mrs. Johnstone extended a hand to Finn, but he waved it away as if anticipating a double-cross. “I am capable of getting up on my own,” he said gruffly, even as he continued to face the ceiling.

“Is that so?” Macie could not resist teasing him. “It does appear she got the better of you.”

Coming to his feet, he flashed a grin. “Would ye believe me if I told you I was acting?”

“Not for a moment.”

“Ye’re a shrewd lass, I’ll give you that.” His grin broadened. “’Tis only my pride that’s wounded.”

“As I mentioned, whatever indignity ye’ve suffered is for the greater good.” Mrs. Johnstone turned to Macie. “I am not here to act as a chaperone; I am here as a teacher.”

Curiosity washed over Macie. “In the art of manual combat?”

“Not precisely.” A thin smile played on the older woman’s lips. “I am here to teach ye to withstand a threat.”

“To drop a man to his knees?” Nell added with bloodthirsty enthusiasm.

Mrs. Johnstone’s brow furrowed. “If need be.”

Nell’s eyes gleamed. “When shall we begin?”

“I’d no inkling you had a taste for such...” Macie struggled for the right word. “Violence.”

Finn slanted her a glance. “It’s always the quiet ones, ye know.”

“Indeed,” Nell replied with a grin.

“I’ve brought each of ye a gift,” Mrs. Johnstone said, retrieving the creamy yellow parasols she’d propped up behind the sofa.

Nell ran a fingertip over the weights sewn into the ribs. “Wielded with a degree of force, this could make quite an impression.”

“I must admit, it is a clever design,” Macie said. “But I have no reason to carry a sunshade after dark.”

“A valid point, indeed.” Mrs. Johnstone displayed an elegant handkerchief she’d stashed in her reticule. The embellished linen square sparkled with tiny bits of stone that had been polished to a shine. “One must properly prepare for any eventuality. Take this bit of lacy fluff. Carried in a purse, ye might access it at any time.” She touched a fingertip to the gleaming weights. “Employed with a flick of the wrist against an attacker’s face, I’d wager he—or she—would think twice before continuing their assault.”

Nell took the cloth in hand. “Genius.”

“Now that we’ve seen a bit of what an ordinary woman can—” Mrs. Johnstone began.

“ Ordinary ?” Finn disagreed.

Mrs. Johnstone paused. “Should I consider that a compliment, Mr. Caldwell?”

Finn shrugged. “No one could ever view ye as ordinary, Mrs. Johnstone.”

“Indeed,” she said coolly, though a smile lit her eyes. “I do believe in being prepared.

“Now, Macie, as I was saying, I am here to instruct ye in the art of self-defense. That is, if ye’re ready and willing to learn.”

Finn leaned against the sofa table, stretching out his long legs. “God help the badly behaved lord who crosses yer path, Macie. The gent will have more to worry about than a port stain on his cravat.”

Macie met his gaze. “Perhaps his fellow boors will think twice before they vex me.”

“I suspect they already do,” he said. “They simply cannot resist the challenge.”

“Challenge?” Macie said. Was Finn speaking for himself as well?

A wry grin played on his mouth, but his expression suddenly shifted. “It’s not a mystery.” His amber gaze held hers, and for a heartbeat, she nearly forgot they were not alone. “’Tis a universal truth, Macie: men always desire what they cannot possess.”

*

Perched on an overstuffed chair in her sun-dappled parlor, Macie sipped tea and discreetly studied her guest. Mrs. Johnstone’s attire was elegant, yet no-nonsense, and the woman’s precise manner of speaking brought to mind the harried governess her father had hired to teach Macie to behave like a fine young lady. Pity Miss Beasley’s lessons had offered instruction Macie had little interest in learning.

But Mrs. Johnstone’s fiercely independent demeanor was delightfully different from the dour, always-tasting-a-lemon set of Miss Beasley’s bland features. Unlike the perpetual weariness in the prim governess’s expression, Elsie Johnstone’s eyes twinkled with a bit of mischief. She became especially animated while recalling the youthful exploits of her nephew Logan and his cousin Finn. Following her sister’s death, Mrs. Johnstone had stepped in to assist Logan’s father in raising his two young boys. And there was no denying that the woman’s unique skills might well prove more valuable than Miss Beasley’s consummate mastery of etiquette. After all, it wasn’t as if an attacker would give a fig about impeccable manners.

Mrs. Johnstone had proven her ability to land a vigorous man like Finn on the floor. Why, she’d knocked the breath out of him, and he’d shown reluctance to demonstrate the next phase of her defensive tactics. If she could inspire wariness in a powerful man like Finn, what harm could the woman’s tactics unleash on an aggressor bent on mayhem?

“Well, enough of my reminiscences.” Mrs. Johnstone peered over the rim of her porcelain cup. “We’ve more important matters to discuss. While I fully intend to be of service, I will not be a millstone about your neck.”

Macie took another sip of oolong tea. Had her initial reaction to Mrs. Johnstone’s presence been so very obvious? She decided upon a diplomatic response. “I cannot imagine anyone would ever see you as such.”

“Excellent.” A thin smile brightened Mrs. Johnstone’s eyes. “I recently had the pleasure of attending your Edinburgh exhibit. I understand ye’re now capturing the charm of the Bennington estate.”

“Charm?” Macie considered the word. “If only my father shared your opinion of our grandfather’s home. He sees it only in terms of shillings and pence.”

Mrs. Johnstone lifted a brow. “Andrew Bennington was yer grandfather?”

“Indeed.” Macie pictured the old man she’d adored. “He liked to say we were two of a kind.”

“I can see that,” Mrs. Johnstone said. “I was fortunate to make Andrew’s acquaintance some years ago. My dear husband, Franklin, and I attended a number of dinner parties where yer grandfather was a welcome guest. I am a great admirer of his early work with Greco-Roman antiquities. Andrew’s treatise on the goddess Athena was particularly fascinating.”

“You’ve read my grandfather’s essays?”

“Franklin and I shared an interest in mythology. We greatly enjoyed yer grandfather’s examination of the subject. Many years ago, we traveled to the Mediterranean on our honeymoon to explore. We’d always longed to return.” The light in Mrs. Johnstone’s blue eyes dimmed. “But we waited too long. One night, my husband was taken unexpectedly. And that was that.” She let out a sigh. “But enough about me. Are ye planning a return to the manor in the near future?”

“I’d planned to set up my camera later today,” Macie explained. “When the exterior lighting is just right.”

“Finn will accompany ye?”

“I don’t believe so,” Macie said. “Nell often acts as my assistant.”

“I would very much like to join ye.”

“You truly do not need to trouble yourself on my behalf,” Macie said gently.

“It would be no trouble. I’m quite intrigued by this medium. The artistic possibilities are without limit.”

“Indeed,” Macie agreed. “In that case, I’d be delighted if you would accompany us.”

“It will be my pleasure.” Rising, Mrs. Johnstone retrieved her lemon-yellow brolly, pointing out the tiny weights fastened to its ribs. “Just so ye know, I will be prepared.”