Page 49 of Fairest of Heart

He tightened his grip on her hand. “You were no such thing.” The words emerged sharper than he intended, but he was angry.

No one should have their security stripped from them like this. Made to feel vulnerable and exposed in their own home. And the fact that his questions had added to her distress only heightened his ire.

“It was clever of you to feign sleep,” he said, willing her to believe him. “Criminals are unpredictable when trapped. There’s no telling what he might have done if he’d felt threatened. You did the right thing.”

“I just wish I could help more.” She blinked away the moisture from her eyes and straightened her posture. “Maybe I can figure out what he was looking for.” She tugged her hand free of Titus’s hold and stood, her mouth tightening with determination.

“It can wait, Penny,” Doc said as he and Titus rose to flank her on either side. “You don’t have to do this now.”

“Yes, I do.” She stared at those dresser drawers like a gunman stared at an opponent from twenty paces.

Titus had no doubt who would emerge victorious. Even so, he stayed close as she worked, wanting to be on hand if she needed him.

It took several minutes for her to take inventory since she folded and tidied everything as she went. Restoring order. Controlling her environment. Erasing the evidence that another had gone through her things.

The top drawer on the right side of the dresser lay open, but there were no clothes inside. Curious. He opened it all the way and felt around inside. Penelope’s face swiveled his direction. “I didn’t keep anything in . . . oh.” She looked up at him. “The knife. The one Mr. Hunt gave me. I put it in there.”

Titus frowned. “Well, it’s gone now.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean the intruder was Mr. Hunt. Anyone could have found the knife and deemed it worth keeping.”

Why did she want to believe Hunt innocent? Did she think she owed him her loyalty because he didn’t kill her outright?

“It’s more likely he broke in to retrieve it and make sure nothing could tie him to the attack on you.” Which was a shame, because Titus had been hoping to use that knife as evidence against him. He’d planned to ask her about it in the morning. Too late now.

Titus set aside his goals as a lawman when Penelope deflated at his statement. Shoot. It probably hurt less to believe a stranger broke in than to admit someone she knew had violated her space in such a frightening way.

Needing to bolster her somehow, he placed a hand on her arm and offered what encouragement he could. “You’re right, though. We don’t know for sure that it was Hunt. Better keep going with the inventory to make sure nothing else is missing.”

Her posture straightened, and some of the tightness around his heart eased. She nodded her agreement and turned back to her tidying.

Rowdy collected the few things that had fallen near the door and handed them to Penny, his face beet red. As soon as she took them, he shoved his hands in his pockets and scurried out the door.

Her own cheeks pink, Penelope turned her attention to the drawer that held her most intimate apparel. Lines formed across her forehead as she set the drawer to rights.

Titus stepped closer and looked over her shoulder. “Is something else missing?”

She frowned. “My corset.”

Her corset? Titus leaned back and shared a look with Doc. His grandfather looked as baffled as Titus felt.

Why on earth would Cecil Hunt, or any man, break into a house and steal a lady’s corset?

21

The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away,” Penelope thought as she fastened Grandma Kingsley’s corset around curves it hadn’t been designed to contain. “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

She was blessed. Despite last night’s unsettling adventure, she was unharmed. The Diamond D men that she’d grown so fond of were unharmed. Titus was unharmed. Yes, she was blessed. But also . . . disappointed. She’d been so surprised and delighted to find the corset she’d brought from Chicago among the things Titus had retrieved for her. To have something of her own again. Something made for her body shape and size. A corset that didn’t pinch or jab. One that supported in all the right places and instilled confidence in its ability to keep everything where it belonged no matter her activity level. She’d been looking forward to donning it far more than was rational.

Penelope shook her head at herself, then exhaled a quiet chuckle. What kind of pitiful creature grew melancholy over underclothes? Mrs. Kingsley’s corset worked just fine. Penelope had loosened and reconfigured the laces several times over the last three weeks and had found a fit that accommodated her inconvenient bounty well enough. It was far more practical than the scanty contraption she’d inadvertently inherited from Madame LaBelle. She’d thought about stuffing that one in the cookstove’s firebox to rid herself of the memories tied to it, but she’d not been able to bring herself to do something so destructive.

Setting aside the corset problem to ponder another day, Penelope finished dressing and rolled her hair into a simple chignon. She’d gathered wool long enough. Breakfast wouldn’t start itself.

Or maybe it would. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted over her when she stepped from her room into the hall. She hurried down the few feet of corridor that separated her room from the kitchen, expecting to find Coy at the stove. The dear man probably thought to give her a break from her morning chores after all that had happened last night. But truth be told, she wanted to be busy. Too busy to think about a stranger being in her room. Too busy to wonder if he would return.

“Coy, you didn’t have to—” The rest of the words died on her tongue when Titus looked up at her from the table, cup raised halfway to his mouth.

The cup reversed course and headed back down to the table. “Mornin’, Penelope.”