generation or so ago. I received a letter from
him not two hours past, demanding an outrageous sum for the return of the talisman.”
I frowned. “A ransom? For a trinket holding only sentimental
value?”
My words did nothing to ruffle her cold, dark gaze. “I never
said the talisman had only sentimental value, Mr. Flaherty. Only that it had no
value to anyone save Grandfather.”
Blast it. She was right; I had missed the distinction. I
wanted to ask her what its value might be to him, but in a town where one
regularly saw cloaked figures scurrying through the streets at night and
neighbors considered it the height of polite behavior not to inquire into one
another’s business, a reputation for discretion was even more necessary than
elsewhere.
“Do you know where to find this cousin?”
“If I did, I would hardly need to hire a private detective
to locate him.” Her long fingers plucked anxiously at her furs, a nervous habit
which betrayed the distress hidden behind her impassive face. “It is of utmost
importance the talisman be recovered by sundown.”
My pencil froze against the paper, and I glanced
automatically at the calendar. Any other day, I would at least try to
accommodate her. But not today. Not Valentine’s Day.
I’d never remarked the date before, except perhaps to laugh
at the fools forced to trudge into shops to pacify their wives and sweethearts.
But this year was different.
I was in love.
Moreover, I was in love with a man who, with his
intelligence and breeding, could have his pick of a dozen others. Whyborne and
I had only been together two months, so I was absolutely determined to make the
occasion perfect, to prove he’d made the right choice when he agreed to move
into my home.
I’d planned the entire evening as a surprise. Dinner at Le
Calmar. Two tickets to the theater.
On the way home from purchasing the tickets, I’d passed by
Kryer and Panova, Stationers, on River Street. The colorful cards displayed in
the window caught my eye, and my steps slowed. Surely, one of them would be the
perfect finishing touch for our evening together.
“A gift for your sweetheart?” the clerk asked when I came
inside. “The ladies love the cards.”
“Yes,” I said, and let him assume I shopped for a woman. I
examined the cards carefully, until one in particular stood out to me. Cheerfully
colored in shades of green and rose, it featured a golden-haired Cupid riding
in a swan-shaped boat. The Cupid penned an inscription imploring the receiver
to “Be Mine.”
God, I wanted Whyborne to be
mine. More, I wanted to be his. And I was, for the time being, at least. So I
wasn’t about to sacrifice this opportunity to demonstrate my worth. Not over
the loss of some damned trinket, no matter what its supposed value to the
family.
I shot a more deliberate glance at the clock on the
mantelpiece, making certain Miss Lester noted it. “Retrieving your talisman
before sundown may not be possible,” I said. Tables at Le Calmar would be in
high demand tonight; I couldn’t count on the restaurant holding our
reservation. “Would tomorrow be acceptable?”
Her lips pressed together, as if she struggled to hold back
the words. “It depends,” she said at last. “I care nothing for my
cousin—he is a fool. But what of those living innocently next to whatever
lodging he has taken? What of the family he left behind in Boston, should he
return to them bearing the talisman still?”
A chill, which had nothing to do with the weather outside,
ran up my spine. Someone walked over my grave, as the saying went. Or
perhaps it was the other way around, and my thoughts stumbled over someone
else’s grave.
I even knew whom it belonged to.
“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice more hoarse than I
wished.
Miss Lester gave me a tiny, chilly smile. “You’ve seen
things, haven’t you, Mr. Flaherty? I can always tell.”
The scar on my thigh ached, a sudden throb of pain, as if to
remind me of what
him not two hours past, demanding an outrageous sum for the return of the talisman.”
I frowned. “A ransom? For a trinket holding only sentimental
value?”
My words did nothing to ruffle her cold, dark gaze. “I never
said the talisman had only sentimental value, Mr. Flaherty. Only that it had no
value to anyone save Grandfather.”
Blast it. She was right; I had missed the distinction. I
wanted to ask her what its value might be to him, but in a town where one
regularly saw cloaked figures scurrying through the streets at night and
neighbors considered it the height of polite behavior not to inquire into one
another’s business, a reputation for discretion was even more necessary than
elsewhere.
“Do you know where to find this cousin?”
“If I did, I would hardly need to hire a private detective
to locate him.” Her long fingers plucked anxiously at her furs, a nervous habit
which betrayed the distress hidden behind her impassive face. “It is of utmost
importance the talisman be recovered by sundown.”
My pencil froze against the paper, and I glanced
automatically at the calendar. Any other day, I would at least try to
accommodate her. But not today. Not Valentine’s Day.
I’d never remarked the date before, except perhaps to laugh
at the fools forced to trudge into shops to pacify their wives and sweethearts.
But this year was different.
I was in love.
Moreover, I was in love with a man who, with his
intelligence and breeding, could have his pick of a dozen others. Whyborne and
I had only been together two months, so I was absolutely determined to make the
occasion perfect, to prove he’d made the right choice when he agreed to move
into my home.
I’d planned the entire evening as a surprise. Dinner at Le
Calmar. Two tickets to the theater.
On the way home from purchasing the tickets, I’d passed by
Kryer and Panova, Stationers, on River Street. The colorful cards displayed in
the window caught my eye, and my steps slowed. Surely, one of them would be the
perfect finishing touch for our evening together.
“A gift for your sweetheart?” the clerk asked when I came
inside. “The ladies love the cards.”
“Yes,” I said, and let him assume I shopped for a woman. I
examined the cards carefully, until one in particular stood out to me. Cheerfully
colored in shades of green and rose, it featured a golden-haired Cupid riding
in a swan-shaped boat. The Cupid penned an inscription imploring the receiver
to “Be Mine.”
God, I wanted Whyborne to be
mine. More, I wanted to be his. And I was, for the time being, at least. So I
wasn’t about to sacrifice this opportunity to demonstrate my worth. Not over
the loss of some damned trinket, no matter what its supposed value to the
family.
I shot a more deliberate glance at the clock on the
mantelpiece, making certain Miss Lester noted it. “Retrieving your talisman
before sundown may not be possible,” I said. Tables at Le Calmar would be in
high demand tonight; I couldn’t count on the restaurant holding our
reservation. “Would tomorrow be acceptable?”
Her lips pressed together, as if she struggled to hold back
the words. “It depends,” she said at last. “I care nothing for my
cousin—he is a fool. But what of those living innocently next to whatever
lodging he has taken? What of the family he left behind in Boston, should he
return to them bearing the talisman still?”
A chill, which had nothing to do with the weather outside,
ran up my spine. Someone walked over my grave, as the saying went. Or
perhaps it was the other way around, and my thoughts stumbled over someone
else’s grave.
I even knew whom it belonged to.
“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice more hoarse than I
wished.
Miss Lester gave me a tiny, chilly smile. “You’ve seen
things, haven’t you, Mr. Flaherty? I can always tell.”
The scar on my thigh ached, a sudden throb of pain, as if to
remind me of what
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