“Where to?” the hackney driver asked. The still open door brought in some much-needed fresh air.
“Sixty-two Mount Street,” I said before realizing my blunder.
“You live on Mount Street?” Inspector Ashton asked with a lifted brow. “That is more than down the street.”
“No, not Mount Street, Milk Street. I live in a flat on the corner of Milk Street and Cheapside at the Tucker Boarding House.” My leg began to shake, and I willed it to stop. How could I have made such a blunder? “Sixty-two Mount Street is the address of my previous employer.”
“Milk Street, my good man,” Inspector Ashton said. “I am familiar with Mrs. Tucker.”
“She kindly rented to me.” The driver closed the door, leaving us alone. The gas lamps’ soft glow didn’t cut through the gloomy night with much precision. I was glad for it. My face was overly warm. “I live there with my five sisters.” I tried not to fiddle with the fingertips of my gloves, any weakness would give away my nervousness. I wanted to come across as cool and collected, but something about him rattled me on multiple levels.
“If you were, indeed, a resident of Mount Street, I doubt you would need employment.”
My pulse leaped, and I studied him more closely for signs of suspicion. I didn’t sense any animosity. Indeed, he seemed rather flirtatious. I never considered myself a flirt, but it was the only way I could describe my last conversation with Moran. What my new employer must think of me.
“You are correct on that score.” Many years ago, I would have laughed if anyone had told me I would be working for a living.
“I am familiar with the boarding house since I have lived here my entire life.” Stretching out his long legs, he revealed a scuff mark marring the tip of his shoe. While his clothes were not of the highest quality, they were not inexpensive either. This was the most I’ve ever been exposed to a member of law enforcement, and I prayed I never would see one in an official capacity. By rights, I was perpetrating a fraud by covering up my father’s death, preventing his heir from having access to my ancestral home.
The driver climbed on the perch, the carriage swaying from his weight. Seconds later, the horse moved into traffic.
“Mrs. Tucker is a very lovely woman, and I am pleased to say that my sisters have a safe place to live.” When I decided to perpetrate this fraud, I had read plenty of books about the subject matter. Most of them said that one should stay as close to the truth as possible because the more one exaggerates, the harder it is to keep lies in check. My mother would roll over in her grave if she heard me think along these lines. My cheeks burning with shame, I stared at the grungy window. “Do you have any brothers or sisters, Inspector?” It was time to turn the tables on him.
“I do. Three brothers, all married. I was privileged enough to have a large family. Unfortunately Moran was not as blessed.”
Dare I ask more? I found myself more fascinated with my new employer than I should be. However, Inspector Ashton brought up the subject, thus my window of opportunity opened. “He speaks very fondly about his father.”
Although mine had frustrated me at times, I missed him. There was something comforting about knowing that someone else was watching out for me instead of me watching out for everyone else.
“Mr. Moran senior was a very decent man with infinite patience. It was because of him that I actually started writing.”
My ears perked up at his admission. “You are a writer. Will I have read any of your works?”
“Good Lord, no.” His smile dimmed a tad bit, revealing a crack in his armor. He must be sensitive about his writing. He shifted in his seat, his hands splayed on his knee. “I’ve never published anything, I leave that to Moran.”
The carriage turned a corner, passing unlit windows of familiar brick buildings in a steady clip. Although the carriage had a decided chill, I was overly warm. Never, in my last few years, had I been around attractive men as much as I had in the last week. When I was looking for employment, I wasn’t expecting to end up in a publishing house. “I have not written anything of note, however, I must admit I do enjoy grammar.”
“Then you are indeed the perfect secretary for Moran. He chose well this time.”
“He admitted to being difficult, and although he and I have had a few run-ins already, I would not say he wasdifficult. I would say that he was unique.” The image of him shirtless would be forever burned into my mind, along with the awkward conversation that followed. He had bluntly told me that he wasn’t interested in me in a romantic manner. While I should have been thrilled, it still pricked my pride.
Inspector Ashton laughed at my quip and shook his head. “That sounds rather like a roundabout compliment.”
“I suppose it is. He is your friend, or so he told me.” I tried not to stare at him but it was hard not to admire his handsome face, the short, cropped beard highlighting the strength of his jaw.The sooner I can leave his company, the better off I’ll be.
“He seems to have shared a lot of information with you.”
Either I could pretend ignorance or face my concerns head-on. “I will admit that I was leery at first. I had no idea that you and he were friends and... well, it looked rather suspicious.”
“You had a suspicion that Moran was up to no good?” His comment dripped with amusement. “I can assure you, Moran is as honest as they come. He and I have been friends since we were eleven years old.”
“That is a very long time.” I had never been close to society ladies outside my family circle. Eloise was my best friend and I was fortunate to have her as not only my sister, but as a confidant.
“Moran said you were a widow.” He watched me with a bit too much interest, and my palms dampened beneath my gloves at his scrutiny.
“Apparently, he shared much information with you as well.” I glanced outside again, pleased to see that we were close to my home. No one had questioned me about my make-believe husband past the typical logistics of how he died and when.
“He mentioned it in casual conversation.” Lips quirked, he flattened his palms on his leg, the trousers pulling taut over his muscled thighs. “I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Worth. It couldn’t be easy being widowed so young.”
