The Body at the Tower - By Y. S. Lee Page 0,94

money by doing right with it: he supported an injured errand boy and his sisters, and subsidized the Wick family, too.

“We were right, you know, about the bruises he had on Monday: he and Wick had fought about Jane. She’d just told Reid she was pregnant again, and he was furious. Scolded Wick for ‘wearing her out with babies’, and said any decent man would leave her alone for a bit.”

James smiled. “You were right and I was wrong. I thought he was a drunken hothead, remember?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Admitting imperfections, now? You really are unwell.”

“I’m the most generous of souls.”

“Well, since you’re feigning generosity, I want to ask you about Jenkins – the lad who led the police to the tower.”

“What about him?”

“He’s clever. Poor. The eldest of several, both parents dead. I don’t suppose…”

James nodded. “Send him round to our offices. I’m sure George will find something for him to do until I’m back, though it may be only sharpening pencils.”

Mary grinned. “Count them first, mind. He’s used to skimming off the top.”

He snorted. “You do keep strange company.”

There was a pause. Mary fidgeted with her gloves. How to bring up the real question she wanted to ask him…? It seemed brutal, digging into matters that were so clearly sensitive ones. But she had to know – if only to understand how James might be feeling.

“What is it?”

There was no sense in hinting. Not with James. “What are the consequences for Easton Engineering, now that you know Harkness’s letter was forged?”

“You mean, did he topple our reputation alongside his?” He made a face. “You’d think so, but oddly enough, no. I’m still not certain how.” He paused. “Sometimes I think Harkness chose me because I’m young, and hoped I’d be malleable. Or perhaps he thought me inexperienced and unlikely to know good practice from bad. Or – good God, perhaps he really did want me to meet the First Commissioner, even in those circumstances. One last good deed, or something like that. I’ll never truly know. But the result is that I have indeed met the First Commissioner. Whether that will lead to anything, I couldn’t begin to predict.”

“And – you feel all right about that?”

“Of course not. I’ve played at politics now, dirtied my hands, and it went disastrously. I regret nearly every minute I spent on that accursed site.” His tone was so vehement that Mary recoiled. He caught her eye and half-smiled. “Except, of course, those I spent with you.” She made a sound of protest and he laughed. “It’s true, it’s true. It sounds trite, and pat, and appallingly clichéd, I know. But I mean it. Meeting you again is the one good thing to have come of the entire affair.”

Fear and something else – a wild sort of joy – warred within her. This was dangerous territory. If she didn’t speak soon, she never would. “I – there’s something I need to tell you.”

His gaze sharpened at the new guardedness in her tone. “What’s that?”

Twice, she opened her mouth to begin.

Twice, she closed it again.

Finally, she said simply, “Who do you think I am?”

There was a pause. Then, slowly, “When I first met you, I thought you were a rich man’s mistress. Then I learned you worked as a lady’s companion. Now you tell me you’re an aspiring journalist.” His tone was wary. “Why d’you ask? Are there further developments?”

“Not exactly. More like … past omissions.”

His expression was still, shuttered. “Go on.”

“I – I’m a criminal. A former thief.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. His eyes flashed to hers, wide and startled. “What?”

“When I was twelve, I was tried and found guilty of housebreaking.”

“That carries a death sentence.”

“Yes. I escaped.”

“But you’re still wanted. If you were caught now, they’d hang you.”

“Yes.”

“You must be living under an assumed name.”

“Yes.”

He stared at her for a long minute, a complex blend of emotions struggling in his eyes.

Disbelief.

Affection, still.

And – yes – revulsion.

Here, at last, was the answer she needed in order to go on her way.

Finally, he said in a low, gruff tone, “Why are you telling me all this?”

“I wanted you to know the truth.” The little jade pendant nestled against her collarbone was a constant reminder of her other truth. The one she could never tell anyone.

“But why?”

“Because…” And this was the hardest part – one of the most difficult things she’d said in years. “Because I didn’t want you to care for me – for someone – about whom you knew