‘Do you want to fire me?’ Juliet asked. ‘You can, you know. I really wouldn’t mind.’
He clutched his hands to his heart in horror. ‘Oh, goodness, Miss Armstrong. Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s sound and fury, nothing more.’
Juliet felt a pang of disappointment. She had been horribly attracted to the idea of simply walking away. A disappearing act. But where would she go? There was always somewhere, she supposed. She hoped.
Even in the grip of her own paranoia, Juliet could acknowledge that it was an unlikely guise for an assassin. She feared she was beginning to thread the wilder shores of her imagination.
Juliet sighed and wondered if one day she would think herself to death. Was that possible? And would it be painful?