Ian nodded. “Yes, Francesca’s not attending the press conference. I want her to stay away from the cameras. She can work with the artist during it. And you’ll be sure and contact the authorities in Chicago about this man?”
“I’ll report to you straightaway if they have any leads as to his identity.”
“They don’t at the present time,” Ian said, his mouth slanted in irritation. How could he say that with such certainty? Francesca wondered. It struck her that he’d been in constant contact with the Chicago officials. “But they didn’t bother to have Francesca work with a sketch artist or look at mug shots. They treated the case like a random attempted robbery and assault. It’d be best if you sent the sketch immediately to the Chicago police once it’s made to see if they can make any connections. I know a man in the department who can help us. I’ll pass on his contact information to you. I would have had him work with Francesca after this man attacked her in Chicago, but by the time I’d learned about things and got ahold of him, Francesca was already on her way to Belford. I thought she’d be safe here,” he said, his forehead creasing. “Still, I don’t understand why the man didn’t stick around and finish things off while he had the chance. He did the same thing in Chicago. It makes no sense.”
The detective shrugged. “I’ve learned in my line of work you shouldn’t give these criminal types more intelligence or fortitude than they’re due. When things grow a little tough, they’ll more than likely run for it.”
Ian looked far from convinced. Guilt wriggled in her belly at the sight of his rigid, anxious visage. She hadn’t seen that expression on his face since the difficult months before his mother died, when he was consumed with worry. He hadn’t wanted to take her off Belford’s grounds, but she’d persuaded him. He’d been worried about her since he arrived, and now she had firsthand proof he hadn’t just been paranoid.
Anne stood to see the detectives out. Elise patted Francesca’s hand. “Are you doing okay?’ she asked in a hushed tone.
“I’m fine. I was just more startled than anything,” Francesca assured the others, including Ian, who was studying her.
“Do you think it’s a good idea to hold the press conference tomorrow with this criminal hanging about?” Gerard asked.
“I’ve increased the security around Belford until we can find out more about this man’s location. Hopefully he’ll be apprehended soon,” James said.
“Lin has checked out everyone coming. No one other than authorized visitors will be allowed onto the grounds,” Ian said, sitting back down in his chair. “If we cancel now, it’ll only fuel the rumors that are flying about in regard to Noble Enterprises being in choppy waters.”
“I agree,” Lucien said. “The business world needs to see Ian securely back at the helm.”
James nodded, looking up when Anne returned to the sitting room.
“I’ve asked the staff to go ahead and serve dinner. We’ll go in as we are,” she said, referring to the fact that none of them were dressed for dinner. They’d all gathered upon hearing Ian and Francesca’s alarming news, and hadn’t left the room since the police had arrived to take their report.
It felt strange, but somehow comforting, to sit in the Belford formal dining room wearing her Cubs T-shirt and surrounded by so many concerned faces. It struck her later as she ate Mrs. Hanson’s delicious raspberry tart for dessert, listening to the others talk, that she was surrounded by her true family. The familiar ache started in the vicinity of her chest as she watched Ian conversing somberly with James and Lucien that there was a good chance she’d never officially be part of that family.
Not if Ian couldn’t come to terms with his demons.
Later that night, she said a quiet good night to Anne and kissed her on the cheek. Ian said her name as she was walking through the Great Hall alone toward the stairs. She turned to him.
“Were you planning on going up without saying good night?” he asked, approaching her.
“Of course not. I was going to say good night in your suite in a little while.”
The almost indistinguishable lightening of his expression told her he’d liked her answer.
“I’ll come with you if you want to get anything in your room, and then you’re coming with me. I’m not in the mood for letting you out of my sight at the moment,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the stairs.
“You’ll have to at some point,” she said, half-exasperated by his diligence and half-touched by it. “You don’t want me at the press conference tomorrow, and I have to meet with the sketch artist, for instance.”
“I’ve already arranged all that.”
“Of course,” Francesca said, giving him dry sideways glance. He seemed unaffected by her fond sarcasm as they ascended the stairs.
“Lucien has agreed to sit with you while I’m occupied. And after that, I’ve spoken to Lin. She’s beginning a search for someone for you.”
“Someone for me,” Francesca said warily, her feet slowing as the neared her room in the arch-ceilinged hallway. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Full-time security personnel,” Ian said briskly, urging her with his hold on her hand to commence down the hallway. She pulled back. He dropped her hand, his expression going flat.
“Ian, I am not having someone follow me around twenty-four hours a day!” she exclaimed with heated restraint.