Walking down the hall to Miriam’s room, Arthur felt like a man sent to execution. Which was strange, considering he would soon be Miriam’s executioner. Did this servant girl know that she, inadvertently, was aiding him in murder?

Of course she didn’t. If she did, she would have to die too.

So, no, she would not be fetched for anything. He would have no help with this; only witnesses. Only Malachi.

“Mrs. Brennan,” he returned, eyeing the woman as he closed the door behind him. Anticipating his lover, he did not lock it.

His footsteps were quiet as they could be against the floor as he came up behind Miriam, watching her face in the mirror.

“Still, you are lovely as ever,” Arthur said quietly, his hands moving to the clasp of her necklace. Dextrose hands accustomed to dealing with small appliances had her freed from the chain not a second later. In one hand, he offered it over Miriam’s shoulder. The other touched her hair, light and testing.

“Would you like help with anything else?”