LITMIR.BIZ

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as he noticed a ragged teddy bear on the floor, a well-loved companion by the looks of it. Picking it up, he tucked it beside his son. Just another one of all the small moments of a childhood he had missed, he thought, and resolved not to lose more.

      When Cassandra bustled back a few moments later with a tray in hand she gestured to him to follow her into a sitting room close by and then proceeded to set out the cups, sugar and milk on a table.

      ‘I thought if we had our tea here it would not disturb Jamie and yet we are still near enough to hear if he calls out.’ She tipped her head to listen, but no noise was forthcoming. ‘His nanny and the servants are all in their beds and I did not wish to wake them again so if you need something to eat...?’

      ‘Just tea would be lovely.’

      A flash of humour answered him as she understood his meaning. ‘Papa does not drink at all and so our house isn’t well stocked with liquor. But I will make certain that some is brought in for you next time.’

      ‘Next time?’

      ‘Jamie wants you in his life. Even being so sick he told you he did.’

      ‘And what of you? Do you want me here?’

      She lifted her cup carefully and looked at him directly. ‘I do.’

      ‘Then let us begin with that.’

      The tea tasted like an elixir the way she made it with a dollop of milk and sugar. It was steadying after a night of emotion. He wondered why he had never taken to the brew before and resolved to instruct his staff to get this particular leaf into his house for drinking. Everything seemed heightened somehow: the scent of Cassandra’s perfume, the colour of her hair. The small touch of her skin against his thumb as she had handed him the cup and the earthy aroma of tea.

      Tonight lust did not rule as it usually did when they met, although in truth it simmered beneath the conversation. No, this evening a shared responsibility had engendered new emotions. Contentment. Peace. Gratitude. The quieter humours that Nat had seldom experienced before. The joy of sitting in a room with family around him and being a part of a tradition that stretched back through the ages.

      ‘I could buy him a horse, a small one with a good temperament. One that did not kick. A safe steed.’

      She smiled. ‘You cannot protect him from everything, Nathaniel. What was your first horse like?’

      ‘Wild. A real hellion. I learnt almost immediately where to stand and where not to.’

      ‘The lessons of life. These are what Jamie needs to know from you.’

      ‘Is it always this hard? Being a parent, I mean.’

      ‘From the very first moment when the midwife handed him to me my heart ceased to be my own.’

      ‘You had others there with you?’

      ‘No.’

      He swore softly so that the sound of it would not inadvertently reach the ears of his son. ‘I wish I had been present.’

      ‘I did, too, but I thought you were dead. I looked for you in Paris and asked after you. No one had ever heard your name, of course, and you were probably already back in England. But I did not know any of that then.’

      ‘When you came to London you did not arrive as Mrs Colbert?’

      ‘I thought it too dangerous. I had no idea as to what had happened to Guy Lebansart and his men and I wanted to keep Jamie as safely away from them as I could. I thought placing your name within his would be enough for you to know what had happened if anything should go wrong with me and you were still alive to find him.’

      ‘And you were condemned for not using the name of your husband because of it?’

      ‘Oh, that was an easy sufferance for I seldom strayed into society and finally the gossip lessened.’

      ‘If you had used Colbert I might have found you earlier.’

      ‘Then that would be my only regret.’

      ‘Come with me to St Auburn when Jamie is better. I can show you both the beauty of it, the solidness.’

      ‘You said your grandfather was there.’

      ‘Come as my family and he can meet you.’

      * * *

      Nathaniel wanted Jamie and her to go to St Auburn. He wanted things that she could not promise just yet with the scars at her breast and the guilt in her heart.

      Tonight it had been easy to pretend with Jamie between them. Tonight he had come like a knight in shining armour through the darkness to rescue her. But tomorrow...?

      Reality would creep back with the anger and then she would be at the mercy of pity again. She needed to make sure that the feelings in France could be translated here away from any pressures before she followed him into a place that neither of them could come back from. She needed him to love her wholly with his body just as he had done once in the southern mountains and she wanted to love him back in the same way. But could she risk asking that of him? Now, after Jamie’s sickness and the care he had shown, would the scars ruin everything?

      The thrall of memory took her breath away. ‘Do you live alone at your town house?’

      ‘Yes.’ His voice was quiet, underlaced with question.

      ‘Then perhaps I could come there first. Just me...’

      She left the rest unsaid, but he had picked up on the implications instantly.

      ‘When?’

      ‘Tomorrow night. At eight.’ That gave her a day to make certain that Jamie was fully recovered.

      ‘I would like that.’

      ‘And it will only be us?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I will need a carriage later...to bring me home before the morning.’

      ‘It shall be at your disposal.’

      ‘I am half sick of shadows,’ said The Lady of Shalott.

      Cassie just hoped that by leaving her sanctuary and following her heart into the arms of her Lancelot the result would be much happier than the one in the poem.

      Out flew the web and floated wide;

      The mirror crack’d from side to side;

      ‘The curse is come upon me,’ cried

      The Lady of Shalott.

      The three scars from Lebansart’s blade burnt like hot ribbons of shame upon her breast.

      * * *

      After such a night Nathaniel was unable to sleep and so he sat at the desk in his office and worked on the case of the girls found near the river. Rearranging scraps of paper before him, he took away this one and replaced with that.

      The list contained the names of every member of the Venus Club. The clues had to be here somewhere, he knew, the intuition that had served him so well in his years of working with the Service honed and on high alert.

      Scrivener Weeks would be here somewhere hiding amongst the detail, he just had to find out where he was concealed. Removing each member who was neither tall nor dark, he was left with the names of fifteen men. Reginald Northrup’s name caught his attention, but so did the name of Christopher Hanley.

      Another thought occurred. It was Hanley who had told the world that he had seen Cassandra in the environs of Whitechapel Road and Hanley who had been disparaging about the role of the Daughters of the Poor trying to save every wayward girl in London. Could the existence of Cassandra’s charity be threatening him in some way; threatening his preference for sexual experiences with very young women?

      Placing the name in the very centre of all the others, Nat determined

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