The Mystery Woman (Ladies of Lantern Str - By Amanda Quick Page 0,36

you are looking forward to the end of our short acquaintance.”

“I’m sure you are, as well,” she said.

“No, as a matter of fact, I’m not looking forward to a parting of the ways.”

He sounded vaguely surprised by his own words.

“I find that hard to believe, Mr. Gage.”

“Unlike you, I have found our brief association to be . . . stimulating.”

Startled, she eyed him with growing suspicion. “Rubbish.”

“I’m very serious.” He massaged his thigh in an absent manner and concentrated his attention on the crowd. “You are a very refreshing female, Miss Lockwood.”

“Refreshing?”

“I am not sure how to explain myself.”

“No need to explain, sir,” she said. “I quite understand.”

His false brows rose. “You do?”

“Your problem is simply that you have been living a rather boring life for the past year. You had no business retiring to the country while still in your prime in the first place. Really, what were you thinking?”

His amused, teasing manner vanished in a heartbeat. The ice was back in his eyes.

“Who the devil do you think you are, Miss Lockwood, to be handing out advice and asking personal questions?”

She was startled by the uncharacteristic edge in his voice. True, it was barely discernible, but it was there, like a shark under the waves. In the course of her short acquaintance with Joshua the one thing she had learned was that he was a master of self-control. This was the first time she had seen any indication that he might occasionally allow himself to reveal a flash of anger or impatience.

Then again, she reminded herself, he had acquired all that ironclad self-mastery for a reason. A man of strong passions needed to be able to control those passions.

Perhaps the more intriguing question was why she was relishing the knowledge that she could draw him out of the shadows, even for a moment. Baiting a tiger that lived inside a self-imposed cage was a risky game. It was the tiger, after all, who possessed the keys.

“I happen to be your associate in an investigation, Mr. Gage,” she said. “And do not forget that this partnership of ours was formed at your suggestion.”

“That does not entitle you to pry into my private affairs.”

“I wasn’t prying, I was making an observation.”

“And giving advice.”

“I’m sorry to say that the urge to do so is an unfortunate side effect of my talent,” she said. “I realize that you required some time to recover from the metaphysical as well as the physical aspects of your injuries. However, today in the course of our journey from London, your sister told me that you became almost a complete recluse this past year. It is high time you emerged from your isolation and returned to normal life.”

“I have not lived a normal life for a very long time.”

She waved that off. “You know very well what I mean, sir.”

“Did Hannah tell you why she is being blackmailed?”

Beatrice hesitated and then concluded there was no reason to conceal the truth.

“Yes,” she said.

He nodded. “I thought so.”

“I would remind you that this is not the first time Hannah and I have met. We get along quite well. Mutual interests and all that.”

“A mutual interest in the paranormal.”

“Indeed. But I think Hannah entrusted me with her secret because she felt that, given my own involvement in this affair, I had a right to know.”

Joshua was silent for a moment. “I assume she told you about my part in the business?”

“Yes. I can’t say I was surprised by your role in the affair. You are a professional, after all. I’m just very glad to know that you were there to deal with that terrible man that night.”

“Hannah and her housekeeper were doing very well when I got there, but it is difficult to stand against an enraged man armed with a knife who is bent on murder.”

Memories of the iridescent prints around the dying Roland Fleming sent a ghostly shiver through Beatrice.

“That is what Roland told me that night when he lay dying on the floor of his office,” she whispered. “He said my stocking gun would be of little use against a determined killer.”

“That is especially true when that killer is experienced in his craft,” Joshua said. “You would have gotten only one chance to fire the gun—if that. And if you had missed or if you had not hit a vital spot, which is unlikely with that small weapon—”

“I know.”

“Hannah was right,” he said. “You do deserve to know the truth. But the more people who share a