I did not expect a straight answer. Therefore, I was surprised when Daniel sent me a quiet nod. “He is. I can’t tell you his name. But yes.”
I recalled the tall, spare man with the spectacles, who gazed about him with such derision. I shivered. “He has cold eyes.”
“And a cold heart.” Daniel traced the handle of his teacup. “But he is brilliant, and he has the respect of the Yard. Or the terror of it—I’m not certain. One reason we discovered and captured the villains who killed Nurse Betts, without Naismith being able to stop us, was because of him.”
“I see.” I felt a chill. A man that criminals as nasty as Naismith feared was not a man to run afoul of. “And you work for him? Why?”
“Not a thing I chose.” Daniel kept his eyes on the steaming tea. “It was chosen for me.” He paused a long moment. “And there is the rub.”
I gave him a perplexed look as I filled my own cup. “Why do you say that? I thought you liked chasing villains. You are so very good at it.”
“I do, and I am.” Daniel’s grin shone briefly then faded. “He has told me I must go away again. I can’t tell you where.” He let out a breath and finally looked at me. “I have refused.”
I grew more bewildered. “You just said you had no choice.”
“Well, we shall see if he accepts my refusal. But I am reluctant to leave London these days. I have more reason not to throw myself headlong into danger. I admit I enjoyed it when I was younger—needed it. Now . . .”
“Now you have James,” I said, thinking of Grace. “Children change a person.”
“James, yes.” Daniel slid his hand across the table to me. “And you.”
The breath I drew was ragged. Daniel teased me often, but his declarations were few. Perhaps because I put him off, or teased him in return.
“Me,” I said in a near whisper.
“Yes. God help me.” Daniel’s fingers tightened on mine. “How can I leave, when the damn fool things he has me do might mean I never see you again?”
Again I sat in silence, unsure what this new awareness would mean.
“If you have made a pledge to him . . .” My voice was faint.
“Not so much a pledge, but it is something I can’t break. I was a bad ’un, Kat. As bad as my brother, I’m sorry to say. This is my penance.”
“Oh.” I still did not understand completely, but I was edging closer. Daniel traveled to Scotland or Ireland or the Continent, chased Fenians who’d cheerfully kill him at any instant, and ran after terrible villains, because he had no choice. The bespectacled man had him in a stranglehold.
“For how long?” I asked.
“Until I convince them I’ve paid.” Daniel released me. “I still can’t tell you the entire story. But I will, in time—swearing you to secrecy, of course. Once I’m finished.”
My eyes stung. “You might be dead before then.”
“I might be, yes.”
I studied him for a long moment, while the tea gave up its heat to the chilly room. Without word, I rose and moved to his side of the table. Daniel watched me come, his expression guarded as I sat down beside him.
“Then we must make the most of our time, my dear friend,” I said.
I clasped his hands in mine, leaned forward, and softly kissed him on the mouth.
Acknowledgments
Thanks go to my editor, Kate Seaver, who loves Kat Holloway as much as I do. Also to my dear husband, who puts up with the quirks and inconveniences of living with an author.
Photo by Silvio Portrait Design
Jennifer Ashley is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Below Stairs Mysteries, including Scandal Above Stairs and Death Below Stairs. She also writes as national bestselling and award-winning author Allyson James and bestselling author Ashley Gardner. She lives in the Southwest with her husband and cats, and spends most of her time in the wonderful worlds of her stories.
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Murder in the East End Page 26