“By pretending to be my fiancé?” she asked in disbelief.
“Until the police find the killer,” Benedict said.
“What if they fail?” she asked.
“Then we shall have to do their work for them.”
It had been a stab in the dark but he had made it based on what he knew of her personality. She was, above all else, extremely curious and intrigued by the prospect of adventure. It was that spirit that had compelled her to travel the world.
He knew at once his strategy was working. Amity suddenly glowed with excitement.
“Hmm,”she said.
Penny eyed him dubiously. “Have you had any experience with criminal investigations, Mr. Stanbridge?”
“No, but I imagine it is like any problem in engineering or mathematics,” he said. “One assembles all of the relevant facts in a logical manner and then one solves for the unknown.”
“If it were that simple, the police would catch every criminal on the streets,” Amity said crisply. She got to her feet. “If you will excuse us, Penny, I would like to show Mr. Stanbridge the garden.”
“I was about to ask Mrs. Houston to bring me some more coffee,” Benedict said.
Amity looked at him. “A tour of the garden, sir. Now.”
Seven
The summer rain had stopped and the sun had emerged, but the garden was still damp. Amity whisked her skirts above her ankles to avoid the wet flowers and shrubs. She made for the little gazebo at the far end, very aware of Benedict following close behind her. The gravel of the path crunched beneath his boots.
She stepped up onto the floor of the gazebo and rounded on him.
“You appear to have recovered quite nicely from your wound,” she said.
He touched his right side in the vicinity of his rib cage somewhat gingerly and immediately lowered his hand. “Thanks to your medical skills.”
“As I told you at the time, it was my father who taught me some elementary field medicine.”
“I will be forever grateful to his memory.” Benedict looked at her. “And to you.”
She knew she was flushing again. A wistful longing swept through her. It took a firm act of will to suppress the emotion. She did not want his gratitude, she thought.
“Well, sir?” she said. “What of the outcome of your journey to California. Was your mission successful?”
“My mission?”
“You need not be coy. Did you think that I was not aware that you are a spy for the Crown?”
“Damn it, Amity, I’m an engineer, not a spy.”
She glanced meaningfully at the black case he was holding. “Very well, I understand that you are not allowed to tell people that you are involved in the Great Game. But can you at least assure me that your venture, whatever it was, ended successfully?”
He braced one hand against a nearby pillar and loomed over her. “The answer is, yes, I was successful.”
She smiled, pleased in spite of her irritation. “Excellent. I am delighted to know that I was able to contribute in some small measure to that success—even if I will never know exactly what happened.”
He tapped one finger against the pillar while he contemplated that comment. Then he appeared to come to a decision.
“I don’t see any reason not to tell you a few facts now that the affair has been concluded. But first, let me be clear, I am not a professional spy. I did a favor for my uncle who happens to have connections in the government. Those connections asked him for his assistance in a certain project and he, in turn, asked me to help because of my knowledge of engineering. The mission, as you call it, was my first and very likely my last experience in that sort of thing. I don’t appear to be particularly adept at the business. It nearly got me killed, if you will recall.”
“I’m hardly likely to forget.” She hesitated. “Do you have any notion of who tried to murder you on St. Clare?”
