She nodded. “A little.”
“Good.”
The cereal was hot and filling, the toast nicely buttered, the bacon fried crisp. Steaming tea sent up a fragrant cloud of steam. “Noah?” Jenna asked softly a few minutes later.
“Yeah?”
“We have to find Ianira.”
“Marcus and I are taking care of it,” Noah said firmly. “You’re staying right here. Where you’ll be safe.”
“But—”
“No.” The detective held her gaze, grey eyes hard as marble, now brooking no disagreement. “You’re far too valuable to risk, Jenna. And you had a damned close call, the last time you were outside this house.” Noah touched the side of her head. “This is nearly healed, thank goodness. And without infection, which is a small miracle.”
Jenna’s lips twitched. “I thought it was all the carbolic you keep pouring over my scalp.”
The corners of Noah’s eyes crinkled slightly. “Cleanliness is next to godliness, they say, particularly around here. Be that as it may, I won’t risk seeing you shot dead, next time.”
She considered arguing. Then realized she was still too weak and shaky to do much of anything physical, anyway, so she subsided, at least for the moment. Maybe she could think of some way to help that didn’t require leaving this house? “What are you and Marcus doing?” she asked, instead. “To find her?”
Noah sighed, sitting in a chair beside the window. The corners of the detective’s mouth had drawn down slightly. “We know the man who took her is a doctor, and a man of means. Wealthy enough to wear a silk top hat and a good frock coat. He frequents the area of the Royal Opera and Covent Garden, yet he clearly knows the streets of SoHo. Well enough to lose himself in that maze of nasty little alleyways. If I have to, I’ll check out the identity of every physician, every surgeon in London.” Noah leaned forward in the chair and touched Jenna’s cheek gently. “Don’t worry, kid. We’ll find out who he is and we’ll get her back.”