Chapter 9 #5
Oliver shook his head impatiently. ‘I’m dressed like this because you asked me to.
The same way I pretended to be a workman and was almost killed by an angry mob in south London, and waded through freezing fenland to follow a boat in Cambridgeshire.
I wouldn’t do all of that for just anyone, Harry. ’
It was true – she had demanded he do both of those things and much more besides, and the realisation made her queasy with guilt.
She had asked too much of him, put him in danger, both physically and professionally, and used his friendship with Lawrence to persuade him to risk everything.
Her head drooped as she stared at the floor. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Why should you be sorry?’ he said, his impatience subsiding into bafflement as he sighed. ‘I can see I’m going to have to speak plainly and it would really help if you could look at me while I do.’
Reluctantly, she raised her head, bracing herself for the painful truth. His face was half hidden by the shadows, but she saw the glitter of his eyes as he observed her.
‘Thank you,’ he said, and cleared his throat.
‘I can’t claim this is exactly how I imagined saying this but, for the avoidance of doubt, I am not here out of a sense of duty to the law, or your family, or anything else.
I am here because of you. Because I can’t get enough of the way you light up when you piece together a puzzle, or make a connection no one else has noticed.
Because I see how much helping people matters to you, especially when the law fails to do so.
Because you are kind and resourceful and determined and brilliant, and every time I think you can’t surprise me more, you do.
’ He took a breath. ‘Because whether I’m crouching in a cockroach-ridden hovel, or up to my neck in icy water, or bundling into a dingy alley behind a nightclub wearing a beard that itches like sin, there’s no place I’d rather be, as long as I’m next to you. ’
It was the longest speech she’d ever heard him make, and for a brief moment, she contemplated how impressive he must be in court.
But the undisguised admiration in his voice made her blush, and she was very glad for the darkness that meant he could not see it.
She managed a guarded nod. ‘As my lawyer and my friend.’
‘Well, yes, of course. But I actually meant as more than that,’ he said. ‘If… if that’s what you want.’
The uncertainty that laced his last sentence made her breath catch.
This was Oliver – cool, logical, lawyerly Oliver, who she had never known to be unsure about anything until now.
She’d always believed he had been oblivious to her teenage adoration and, until she had approached him for help last year, had shown only polite interest towards her when they had encountered one another.
Which made this sudden declaration all the more disconcerting.
‘I…’ she said, and trailed off because the way he was looking at her made it hard to think.
Stepping nearer, Oliver gently tilted her chin upwards and searched her face. ‘Is that what you want, Harry?’
His eyes glistened blacker than midnight as they fixed on hers.
He was going to kiss her, she thought, and the realisation caused her doubts to scatter, replaced by a thrill of anticipation that threatened to collapse her knees.
After all this time, Oliver Fortescue was going to kiss her and, once he did, nothing would ever be the same again. All she had to do was say yes.
‘Here! What’s going on down there?’ A brusque voice caused Harry and Oliver to spring apart in alarm, their faces whipping towards the end of the alley where the shadow of a man loomed. ‘Don’t you know there’s laws against that? Disgusting, unnatural behaviour!’
The accusation made no sense until, with a jolt, Harry recalled how they were dressed. A surge of indignation rose inside her. Love was love, no matter who it touched. ‘Then the law is an ass!’ she called back defiantly.
‘Is it now?’ the man roared, and she saw two more bodies appear to block out the rest of the light. ‘We’ll just see about that.’
Oliver gripped her arm. ‘Time to go,’ he urged, drawing her towards the other end of the alley. ‘Now, Harry!’
He was right, of course, but that didn’t mean Harry enjoyed conceding the battle.
Reluctantly, she turned on her heel and ran, her booted footsteps echoing like machine-gun fire on the stone slab pavement.
Behind her, she heard Oliver breathing hard, and heavier footsteps thundering behind him.
She flew out of the alley, spun to her left and raced across the road to Cork Street, ignoring the frantic beep of a horn and the gasps of those hardy revellers who were still out and about.
Drawing in a frantic breath, she took a right, then a left along Old Burlington Street.
Another right took her onto Boyle Street; she could sense Oliver at her shoulder but the thud of their pursuers seemed to have faded.
With a burst of speed, she dashed across Savile Row and up towards Mill Street.
‘Harry!’ Oliver puffed at last. ‘Harry, it’s okay. They’ve given up. We’re safe.’
She slowed, glancing over her shoulder and beyond him to the empty pavement behind. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I don’t think they made it past Boyle Street.’
Panting, she straightened her hat and dabbed at the sweat beading on her upper lip, willing the burn in her lungs to dissipate. ‘Fine. But we shouldn’t stay here. They might turn up at any moment.’
Oliver studied her for a moment, then nodded. ‘Agreed.’
She found she couldn’t quite meet his gaze, all too aware of what had almost happened in the alley, before the men had seen them and the need to escape had eclipsed everything. ‘Oliver, I—’
He held up a hand. ‘Don’t say anything. I know how much you value your independence and I’d never ask you to give that up. But I take nothing back. I do care for you, Harry. If you decide that can only be as your friend and your lawyer, then that will have to be enough.’
She closed her eyes. How many times had she wished he would say such things to her?
Yet now that he had, it was all too much.
Perhaps it was simply the timing; the day had been overwhelming, with the discovery of Polly’s body, the realisation that the two investigations she had been pursuing were bound by a deadly silken thread, and unexpectedly culminating in a panicked chase through the streets.
Or perhaps it was simply that everything was different now.
She was different now, and romance – any romance – came with a price, one that would inevitably clip her wings.
There would be positives, of course; at some point she might grow tired of life on her own, especially if she loved and was loved in return.
But there was no denying that, for a woman, love and all that followed was a gilded cage.
And Harry did not want to be caged. Not even by Oliver.
A sudden wave of exhaustion hit her with the strength of a storm surge, and she found she didn’t have the fortitude to examine her own heart. All she wanted was to fall into the soft oblivion of her bed. ‘I’m going to go home. Please don’t argue, it’s only a few streets away.’
To his credit, he did not insist on accompanying her. ‘Will you call me once you’re there?’
In spite of her weariness, Harry smiled. He really couldn’t help himself. Never mind that she would be home long before he was and that it would mean delaying her own rest to reassure him. But she supposed she still had to remove her disguise, and the whiskers would take time. ‘Of course.’
He smiled back. ‘Speak soon, then.’
She dipped her head, and wished for one contrary moment that he would walk her home. ‘Speak soon.’