“Stay here and put on your pants.”
“I will do one of those two things.”
I got out of bed, put on my bathrobe, and went out to the top of the stairs. “Mrs. Turner?” I called.
She appeared at once at the bottom of the stairs. “Yes, Miss March?”
“Duke wants tea. Do you mind serving it up here?”
“In your bedroom?”
“Yes, please.”
“Unorthodox, but anything for His Grace.”
I returned to the bedroom, where Duke was at the mirror, tying his tie. Fictional detectives did seem to have a miraculous ability to get dressed in mere seconds.
“Where would you like to get married?” Duke asked. “Here or in Chicago?”
“You’ve actually never been to Chicago,” I reminded him. “RealChicago.”
I went into the bathroom and started running hot water in the tub.
“We’ll do it here, then,” he said when I came back into the bedroom. “June wedding in the Pilcrow House garden?”
Mrs. Turner knocked discreetly on the bedroom door.
“Come in,” I said.
Mrs. Turner, with Koshka at her heels, entered holding the tea tray. She set it on my desk and poured.
“Thank you, Mrs. Turner,” Duke said. “You are a saint. Rainy and I are discussing marriage. What do you think of a June wedding in the garden?”
“Only heathens get married outside of the Church. But whatever you prefer, Your Grace.”
She gave Duke his cup first, of course, then served me mine. “Is that all, miss? I’ll be going out if so.”
“That’s all,” I said. She started to leave, but then I launched my offensive.
“Wait, Mrs. Turner, can I ask you something?” I said. “Who did you work for before me and Pops, back when you were in London? Can you remind me?”
She blinked, then cocked her head to the side as if trying to recall an ancient time shrouded in the mists.
“Two boys,” she said. “Long, long time ago.”
“Rainy,” Duke said to me, his tone chiding.
I ignored him. “Go on, Mrs. Turner. Two boys in London?”
“Brothers? I think. One was very clever, and one was…very kind. Clever and kind. And brave. Yes, two boys. Always getting into scrapes.” She sighed. “Then they grew up and didn’t need me. John and…hmm…something that starts with an ‘S.’ Been too long. Yes, troublemakers but good lads.”
“Would you like to go back?” I asked her. “To your old job, I mean?”
“Oh, dear me, no. I’m too old to work with rambunctious boys. I wouldn’t say no to a change of scenery, however. I do miss the big city. I miss…I miss the way it used to be. Sometimes it feels like I don’t quite belong here. Can’t say why…I’m being silly, I suppose.” She smiled to herself, possibly the first time I’d ever seen the woman smile. Then she composed her face and shook her head. “But not until you’ve grown, Miss March.”
“I’m twenty-seven, you know.”
“Age is only a number. Now I must be off. I’ll save your lunch for later.”
