has an associate who’s already been observing you? Your daily routines lead directly to me.”
“If she had an associate who knew where to find me, I’d already be dead.” His voice was even, unemphatic, but the words made Mary shiver.
“Unless she wanted to confront you herself…”
“Revenge being a dish best served cold, etc? Is she theatrically inclined?”
Mary made an impatient gesture. “Well, she did try to incinerate you in a decrepit charity home, rather than simply shoot you or cut your throat.” As James opened his mouth to reply, she cut him off. “But this sort of speculation isn’t useful. Neither is parting ways. We’re much better off working together against Mrs Thorold.”
James frowned. “Why are you so intent on throwing yourself into danger’s path?”
She sighed. “Why are you so certain you can bear all the risk for both of us?”
They glared at each other for another long moment, tension rising. Then, finally, James seemed to deflate. “There’s no clear path, is there?”
“There seldom is.”
But he was scarcely listening. “This is precisely what I feared when we began working together: that you would become enmeshed in something truly life-threatening and I would be powerless to help.” He shook his head. “No. It’s worse than my nightmare, because I’m actually the cause of your peril. My God, can you imagine if we’d already published banns, or were married?”
Mary’s stomach turned over. James was going in a direction she’d failed to envision. “I’m in danger anyway,” she said, rapidly. “And we accept a certain level of risk in our daily work as detectives.”
“That’s far removed from the vendetta of a ruthless murderess. Look at me, Mary.” She did so, and the agony in his eyes made her tremble. “Do you really think you’d bear the same level of risk whether we’re together or apart?”
“No. I was resisting your point of view, mainly because I was afraid you’d already made your decision.”
He smiled. “Inherently, reflexively rebellious. It’s a miracle you lived to adulthood.”
“It’s the reason I survived.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “So, what’s your excuse for being inherently, reflexively authoritative?”
“I’m always right?” He laughed as she swatted at him. “Go on, do you have a better plan?”
“In fact, I have. We suspend any work for Quinn and Easton. I continue with my assignment, you with your usual responsibilities. We take no foolish risks, but neither do we anticipate disaster. And we wait and see.”
“It’s still too dangerous to see one another.”
“I think you are right about that, in the short term. But the next fortnight will reveal to us a great deal.”
He frowned for a moment. “You’re correct, of course,” he said. It was one of the things she loved most about him: a true humility that undercut his arrogance. It was what enabled two such strong-willed people to find agreement.
“Perhaps in a week’s time we could communicate. What do you think of a ‘chance’ meeting in a public place – Mudie’s, perhaps?” she said. “It’s bedlam on a Saturday afternoon.”
“Four o’clock at the lending library? Sounds very cloak and dagger.”
“I could do without the dagger.”
“Indeed.” They began to walk again, across the diagonal of the garden square. As they reached its edge, James spoke again. “Mary, we’re going to be all right, aren’t we?”
“Of course we are,” she said quickly. Too quickly. She drew a steadying breath and tried again. “We’re merely being cautious and planning for the worst possible case.” She hoped she sounded more certain than she felt.
“The day this is over – the very instant we’re safe – I’m going to marry you.”
A rush of heat surged through Mary, made her tremble. She couldn’t find words, clever or otherwise, to reply.
“What? Speechless? I should like this moment to be officially documented,
Learning to Kill: Stories