In a Gilded Cage - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,87
books and you can check future sailings for someone who is shipping Bibles and is not a member of one of the societies.”
“Smart girl.” He touched the tip of my nose. “Two cases solved would go down well with the new commissioner.”
“And it might mean that we can actually spend some time together for once.”
“And what good would that be?” he asked, playfully toying with my hair. “When I’m free you’re rushing around and working, and when we are together you won’t let me touch you.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t let you touch me,” I said, standing slowly until I was facing him. “I have no objection to a chaste kiss or two.”
He laughed. “And when have you and I ever exchanged chaste kisses,” he said. “And don’t come the prim maid with me. You enjoy our lovemaking as much as I do.”
“That’s as may be,” I said, “but it’s going to remain chaste until we’re married.”
“I admire your strength of character,” Daniel said. He slipped his arms around me and pulled me close to him. “You don’t even weaken when I hold you like this, and then I kiss you like this . . .” His lips traced a line down my neck.
“That’s not fair,” I said, laughing.
He broke off, sniffing. “My, that smells good,” he said. “Are you going to invite me to stay for dinner?”
“That’s a broth I’m making for my friend Emily,” I said.
“Pity.” His face fell.
“I do believe you only want a wife so you have someone to cook for you,” I teased.
“There are other benefits of marriage, so I’m told,” he said, giving me a look that made my knees go weak. But I remained resolute. “You could take me out to dinner,” I said. “Seeing that I’ve helped you solve both your cases.”
“I certainly could,” he agreed. “And I know just the place.”
“Nothing expensive,” I reminded him.
“It’s most certainly not. And it’s nearby. Come on. Get your hat and coat.”
Soon we were walking arm in arm across Washington Square. The trees were a mass of blossoms. The flower beds were full of spring flowers. And the children were out in force, enjoying a balmy spring evening. I watched them running with their hoops and pushing their doll carriages and thought wistfully of little Bridie and her brother Shamey, who had lived with me until their father took them to live on a farm. Much better for them, of course, but I did miss them occasionally. I let my thoughts drift to the future and imagined Daniel and me strolling through a park like this while we pushed a baby buggy . . .
“I can’t tell you what a relief it is to be back at work.” Daniel interrupted my reverie. “Those months under suspicion were almost the end of me. You have no idea how deeply I sank into despair. You were the only thing that kept me going.”
I looked up at him and smiled. He covered my hand with his own. I felt a warm glow inside as we walked down West Tenth Street until we came to a little Italian restaurant. It had checkered tablecloths and jugs of red wine on the tables. Daniel ordered big bowls of spaghetti and I soon found that it was not possible to eat Italian food daintily and in a ladylike manner. Daniel laughed at my efforts. “We’ll make a New Yorker of you yet,” he said.
Twenty-eight
The next morning I took the El to the Upper West Side, precariously balancing a jug of barley water and a pot of broth. I managed to bring both of them successfully to Emily’s room. She looked no worse than the day before and I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw her.
“Molly, this is so good of you,” she said, lying back onto her pillows, “but I’m afraid you’ve gone to so much trouble for nothing. I have barely taken a sip of the broth you brought me yesterday, and I don’t know what I’m going to do with all this.”
“You should finish that first, so that I can take them their bowl back,” I suggested. “Shall I heat some up for you?”
“I don’t think I could manage it.” She shuddered. “But maybe the barley water. My throat is so dry.”
I sat with her while she took a few sips, then I transferred the rest of the barley water to a glass jug she had and tipped the rest of the chicken broth from the delicatessen into