Chapter 8
“I ought to be nicked more often,” Daniel said into my ear, his voice warm and welcome.
My head popped up, and I scowled at him. “No, you should not. What a thing to say. I feared I’d never see you again.”
“No reason for that.” Daniel led me to the kitchen table as though he escorted me across a fancy restaurant.
“McGregor and Scott knew they couldn’t pin it on me, and neither truly believed I’d killed the man.
They interrogated me for the better part of the afternoon and evening and then threw me out. ”
“I was certain they’d be reasonable,” I said, trying to sound offhand, but in truth, I was trembling in relief.
I set two teacups on the table and refilled the pot from the kettle as Daniel seated himself in his usual place.
“But you feared you’d never see me again?” Daniel cocked a brow at me.
“Do not cast up to me things I say in agitation,” I said. “I knew in my heart they’d release you, eventually, but my imagination can conjure many dire things.”
I set the teapot on the table, glancing at the clock to time the tea’s steeping, then retrieved the piece of apple tart I had resting on the dresser. Daniel rubbed his hands as I deposited it on a plate and slid it before him.
“Excellent,” he said. “I’ve been hungry all day. Talking to inspectors is not nourishing, plus McGregor had the audacity to consume most of a meat pie under my nose. He blamed me for making him miss his lunch.”
“If he bought it at a food stand, it likely wasn’t as good as it could be,” I pointed out.
“True, but at the time, my stomach was rumbling something fierce. Reminded me too much of my childhood before Carter found me.”
Daniel ended his unhappy reminiscing by shoveling in a large forkful of apple tart, its crust glistening with sugar.
“Do they have any other suspects but you?” I asked as I sat down next to him.
Daniel regarded me in silence as he swallowed his first bite and then again with his second. Not until half the tart was gone did he wipe his mouth on the napkin I provided and deign to speak.
“No other suspects so far, at least none they made known to me. Scott told me you’d come to see him voluntarily, and that one of the constables at the scene had recognized you as you fled. I’m sorry, Kat. I thought I sent you off quickly enough.”
“My own fault for lingering, and also for being polite to constables at the Yard. You did not mention Mr. Grimes, did you?”
Daniel shook his head. “I’d never land him in it. Grimes did some things in his past that don’t bear coming to light now. I won’t say he’s reformed, but he is a better person now and should be able to continue to atone.”
I agreed. “I had a look at Mr. Banks’s lodgings,” I said as Daniel continued his apple tart. “I took Hannah with me for protection.”
Daniel froze in the act of raising another bite to his mouth. “Good Lord. What possessed you to do that?”
“I thought it should be done soon, before his landlady cleared it out,” I answered.
“I was trying to find any hint of what he meant to tell you, and also who else might have killed him, in case Inspector McGregor decided to keep you until they could land the real culprit. I went in broad daylight—or at least foggy daylight—and Hannah is good in a scrap.”
“Good in a…” Daniel shook his head in despair. “If I’d known, I would have hurried McGregor and Scott along. As a matter of fact, once I was free, I went to Banks’s rooms myself, but it was late, and the landlady wouldn’t let me in.”
“Mrs. Duggan seems a conscientious woman, and I’m certain you looked seedier than usual, having spent all day with the police.”
Daniel lifted his brows. “Than usual? Meaning I am generally seedy, I suppose.” He grinned. “You are right, though. Mrs. Duggan did not like the look of me, and my charm did not work at all. I went home, had a wash, and put on clean clothes to come to see you.”
“As should a gentleman while courting,” I said.
“I’m a gentleman now, am I? No longer a disreputable vagabond?” His eyes took on their usual sparkle.
“We don’t know, do we?” I gentled my tone, leaving off my teasing. “I spoke to a man who was friends with Mr. Banks. He said it’s unlikely Mr. Banks had information on your mum, but he did tell me the name of the woman who possibly took you in when you were a wee chap.”
Daniel lifted his head as I rattled this off, his face losing color in the warm glow of my candle. He carefully set his fork next to the small amount of tart left on his plate.
“Is this reliable information?”
Daniel’s voice was quiet, but I saw the turmoil in his eyes. I’d just dashed his hopes and raised them again in the space of a breath.
“Unfortunately, I do not know. The fellow who told me is called Ramsay and claims to have been well acquainted with Mr. Banks. Perhaps he’s another builder, but he’s rather tough-looking.”
I described Mr. Ramsay and told him all he’d said while Daniel listened, his gaze intent.
“Ramsay,” Daniel said when I’d finished. “I don’t know him. But apparently he knows of me and Grimes.” The reflective way he spoke told me he and Mr. Grimes might be paying Ramsay a visit.
“I won’t be able to go to Bethnal Green to investigate his claim until Monday afternoon,” I told Daniel as he lifted his fork to resume eating. “Very early in the afternoon would be best, then I can take tea afterward with Grace. I want to spend as much time with her as I can, before she leaves.”
If I said it matter-of-factly, her going wouldn’t gut me as much, I promised myself.
Daniel was staring at me again. “I’ll not take you to Bethnal Green, one of the worst slums in London. No, don’t remind me that you grew up in Bow Lane. The City is a different place from the East End.”
“I do not intend to rush there alone in the dark,” I returned. “I will walk sensibly by your side in the brightness of the afternoon. I have seen you beat off assailants with great competence.”
“Only one at a time,” Daniel said with tight patience. “I’ll be no good to either of us if twenty attack at once. The gangs there are brutal.”
“We can bring Mr. Grimes along if you feel we need extra protection.”
“I see. A pair of South London toughs wandering about the East End.” Daniel’s eyes flickered. “I’m sure everyone will leave us alone.”
“With me at your side, you will look like a respectable gent out for a stroll with his missus,” I argued. “There is a park there—Victoria Park—where I’m sure ordinary people walk about with their children.”
“Yes,” Daniel agreed. “But one has to get safely into and out of the park. And there are hedges along its walkways where villains can lurk.”
“You’ve been there and observed the place, then.”
“I have. I will remind you that my old nemesis, Naismith, controls much of that area.”
“I do recall.” I lifted my teacup and rested my elbows on the table. “If I accompany you, you will be less likely to seek him out and endanger yourself.”
Daniel’s frown grew fierce. “If you accompany me, he might decide to use you to either exact revenge or bring me under his power.”
We regarded each other stubbornly for a moment, then I shrugged and took a sip of tea. “You have many connections throughout London. Perhaps you could send some of those into Bethnal Green to ask questions and report to you.”
Daniel shook his head as he finished off the last bit of tart. “No one I sent would be safe, and I have no connections at all that deep into the East End.”
“Not entirely true,” I pointed out. “You do know one man in Shadwell who might help. A vicar, no less.”
Daniel stopped short of rolling his eyes. “Errol can be fearless, I grant you. However, I’m not certain I trust him to pry into my past. We’ve had our differences. Also, there might be a reason he’s thriving in the East End.”
“You mean he’s come under the power of Mr. Naismith?” I asked in surprise. “I think that hardly likely. Mr. Fielding isn’t the sort to let people have a hold over him.”
“Naismith is a force all his own,” Daniel said. “Even if I trusted Errol completely, it would be as dangerous for him as for me.”
“You are working your way around to saying you’ll go ask questions alone, taking no one with you, not even those strong enough to fight for you.” I set down my cup and regarded him sternly. “That is the most foolish thing you have ever considered, Mr. McAdam.”
“No.” Daniel’s voice went quiet. “The most foolish thing I have ever considered is whether to let myself become enchanted by a cook with beautiful eyes.”
I flushed, but he’d disarmed me, the wretch. I could only gaze at him, the love in my heart flaring to mix with my fears.
Daniel studied me in return, the warmth in his eyes intoxicating.
It was in this inauspicious moment that Mr. Davis walked into the kitchen.
He was wrapped in a long gray dressing gown that reached to his feet, his hairpiece absent, his domed forehead glistening in the light of the candle he held.
I’d never seen Mr. Davis in anything other than his suits, which were starched and stiff even when he removed his coat to sit in his shirtsleeves. This woolen dressing gown, buttoned to his chin, was almost as severe.
Mr. Davis halted in shock, staring open-mouthed at Daniel and me seated comfortably at the kitchen table, an empty plate and our teacups between us.
I thanked heaven he hadn’t appeared earlier, when I’d been clinging to Daniel, happy he’d been released from custody. Even so, me entertaining a man at night, when all the house was asleep, was a serious breach of behavior, one that could have me on the pavement.
I expected Mr. Davis to draw himself up, denounce us, and tell Daniel to take himself off. Instead, he simply stared, his shock turning to anger.
Mr. Davis’s face suffused with more and more color, then with a final glare at me, he turned on his heel and stalked out.
“Oh, dear.” I rose quickly, and Daniel came to his feet beside me.
“I’ll clear off,” he said.
I caught his hands. “Please do not start searching Bethnal Green until we can speak further. Promise me, Daniel.”