The Mystery Woman (Ladies of Lantern Str - By Amanda Quick Page 0,17

all evening. I was starting to become worried and was about to send a message around to Flint and Marsh to see if all was well. But then the sensation faded.”

“Your intuition was not off,” Beatrice said. “For a time there was some danger involved for Miss Daphne, but in the end all was well. Unfortunately, there is another rather heavy boot yet to drop.”

Clarissa’s dark brows rose. “A boot?”

“His name is Joshua Gage.”

Eight

Mr. Gage is here?” Beatrice looked up from the morning papers, a shivery thrill of excitement and dread spiking through her. “Are you quite certain, Mrs. Rambley?”

The housekeeper was a formidable woman of some forty years. She was constructed along the lines of a sturdy Greek statue. She made no secret that she was offended by the implication that she might have gotten the identity of the caller wrong.

“That was the name the gentleman gave me.” Mrs. Rambley drew herself up and peered down her imposing nose. “He said that you are expecting him.”

“Not at ten o’clock in the morning,” Beatrice said, exasperated.

She and Mrs. Rambley were alone in the house. Clarissa had left an hour earlier to receive the details of her new assignment for Flint & Marsh.

Mrs. Rambley’s irritation changed abruptly into anxiety. Beatrice immediately felt guilty. It was not the housekeeper’s fault that Joshua Gage had chosen to arrive at this hour. Mrs. Rambley was still adjusting to her unconventional employers and their unconventional careers. She was worried now that she had made a serious mistake by allowing a gentleman caller into the small household.

“I will tell Mr. Gage that you are not at home,” she said. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He does look quite dangerous. There’s a fearful scar on his face and I would not want to know how he came by that limp. I’m sure the story would chill one’s blood.” She started to turn away.

“Don’t bother, Mrs. Rambley. I don’t think there’s much point suggesting that he leave. From what little I have seen of him, Mr. Gage is not easy to get rid of. Please show him into the parlor. And I do apologize for snapping at you.”

“No need,” Mrs. Rambley said gruffly. “It is certainly a bit early in the day to be receiving visitors.”

“Especially male visitors,” Beatrice said. “No need to be shy about it, Mrs. Rambley. I know what you are thinking and I agree with you. This is not proper. The real question here is, what in heaven’s name can Gage be thinking?”

Mrs. Rambley’s face tightened in concern. “Are you worried that he might be a problem, ma’am? Do you think he might attempt to impose himself on you in some way? I can send for a constable.”

“It would certainly be interesting to see how Gage might deal with a constable, but we will forgo the experiment. And yes, I anticipate that Mr. Gage will prove to be a problem, but I’m quite certain he is not a danger to my person.”

“If you’re sure, ma’am.”

Beatrice thought about what she had seen in Gage’s footsteps last night. There was good reason to be cautious around him. But she could not summon up any great fear of the man. Anticipation, yes, and curiosity, too. Both emotions made sense. But she could not explain the inexplicable thrill that came from knowing that he was right here, in her home, waiting for her.

“Quite certain,” she said.

“Very well, then.”

Mrs. Rambley left the doorway and went back down the hall.

Beatrice rose and moved to the door. She listened as Mrs. Rambley showed Joshua into the parlor. The sound of his voice, low and intensely masculine, stirred her senses, just as it had last night. So much for thinking that things would be different in the daylight.

Mrs. Rambley hurried back to the breakfast room. “I’ll bring in a tea tray, ma’am.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Beatrice began.

But Mrs. Rambley was already rushing off toward the kitchen.

Beatrice took a deep, steadying breath, drew herself up, straightened her shoulders and went along the hall to the parlor. She deliberately tried to make as little noise as possible in what she knew would no doubt be a futile attempt to catch Joshua off-guard. She wore a plain housedress. There was no street-sweeper ruffle at the bottom to rustle and swish against the floor. The soft leather soles of her slippers muffled her light footsteps.

She paused in the doorway and heightened her senses, opening them to glance at the floor. Dark