The house on chapel row was smaller than Eleanore expected for a woman who'd once carried the title of noble. Narrow, sun-faded, the kind of place someone retreated to when they were trying very hard not to be found. Which, evidently, was exactly what Verbena Mallory had been doing.
The door opened at Victor's knock, a thin, sharp-featured woman peering out through the gap, and the moment her eyes landed on Eleanore standing just behind him, every trace of color drained from her face.
"No," she breathed, already stepping back, already reaching to slam the door shut. "No, no, this isn't—"
She didn't get the chance to finish. Victor's foot was already braced against the frame, and a heartbeat later Verbena had abandoned the door entirely, bolting through the narrow house toward what Eleanore assumed was a back exit. It took Victor all of four seconds to catch her, one hand closing around her arm and hauling her firmly back through the front room without so much as raising his voice.
