Chapter 3

"I was half-convinced you wouldn't come."

Saffron stumbled over the threshold and reached a hand out to prevent herself from falling. Alexander caught it, steadying her.

She straightened up, gently withdrawing her hand from his grip. Even through her gloves, her freezing fingers could feel the heat of his touch. It felt far too intimate far too fast. Friends did not linger over simple touches like that. With a too-bright smile, she said, "Don't be silly. You promised me stories from the Amazon, if I recall correctly."

"That I did." By the intent way Alexander looked at her, she realized that he was taking in her appearance. She resisted the urge to fidget with her rain-dotted coat or check to see if her dark hair had slipped its pins. She removed her coat, using the movement to cover her own observations. He'd already given his coat to the ma?tre d' and stood before her, tall and a little imposing in a navy suit that stretched a bit at his shoulders. His olive skin had lost some of the golden tan he'd brought back from the Amazon, but his sable hair and watchful eyes were as she remembered.

He offered his arm. "Shall we? Hard to reveal gripping adventures on an empty stomach."

That was precisely what occupied them for the meal. From the moment they were shown to their table, a cozy side booth, to the last bite of their excellent meal, Alexander regaled her with tales from the rainforest. His descriptions of encounters with creatures in the course of questing for the plants on her specimen list had her gasping, laughing, and groaning. For one who was usually economical with his words, he proved an engrossing storyteller.

"I refuse to believe that a monkey snatched the fruit from your hand," she declared after the waiter had swept away the remnants of their dessert.

Alexander chuckled. "But you believed the caiman story?"

Saffron narrowed her eyes. "You make it sound as though I should not."

"I would think that climbing a tree over the river to avoid a miniature crocodilian sounds more far-fetched than a monkey plucking a rumberry from my hand."

Smiling, she said, "Perhaps I like the image of you scrambling out of the water and into a tree too much."

The warmth that had danced in the depths of his dark eyes heated to something more than friendly. After replaying her words to herself, she realized she'd sounded more flirtatious than intended. It had been far too easy to slip into their rapport from the weeks they'd prepared for the expedition together. Thus far, he'd shown none of the surly, dictatorial attitude she'd been so upset by in their most recent encounters.

She cleared her throat, reaching for the now cold dregs of her coffee. "Now, tell me what's new at the U. I worry being gone for nearly a month will have put me quite out of it." Not that she'd ever been "in it" when it came to the inner circles of the biology and botany departments. Being the only woman in the North Wing of the University College had its challenges, including not being included in the gossip mill but still being one of its frequent targets.

"Let's see," Alexander said, humor fading as he smoothed the white tablecloth. His hand was mottled with shiny pink scars from his battlefield injury during the Great War. "Cunningham has me paired with St. John on something that bores even me to tears." Saffron laughed a little at that. Alexander's field of microbiology meant that his studies had titles that made even the most stalwart scholars yawn. "Miller and Aster have been arguing over funding, but that's not news. Ericson is making noise about another expedition soon, since he missed out on the Amazon. Something on the Mediterranean."

"That would be quite the thing," she said, straightening up. "Is there any real interest in the possibility?"

"There is, actually." Alexander shifted in his seat, his hands smoothing out the tablecloth once again. His eyes followed the movement, a restless combination that made Saffron's instincts perk up. When he swallowed hard, then cleared his throat, she was definitely paying attention. He was never one to beat around the bush.

"I had a visit from my brother," he said.

Her eyebrows winged up. He'd last mentioned his brother during a heated argument that had left Saffron feeling raw. "Is he well?" she asked cautiously.

"More or less," he replied. "He was on a train into town a week ago and a man in his compartment died."

"Oh, but that's awful," she said, checking her urge to put her hands on his if only to stop him from continuing to smooth the tablecloth. He was clearly perturbed by this turn of events. "Did he attempt to revive him?"

"Yes, he did," Alexander said slowly. "But a sudden death, when no one present knows the man or his circumstances, leads to a lot of questions."

"Naturally."

"Adrian was questioned," he continued, his words coming out with crisp intention, "at length."

Understanding rose through her, swift and painful. "Was he mistreated? What happened?"

His eyes met hers at last, full of wariness. "I do not believe he was mistreated. But he has been taken into the police station half a dozen times since, usually for hours at a time."

Silence fell between them, interrupted only by the gentle, distant clink of silverware on porcelain from the only other occupied table in the restaurant. Alexander was speaking so carefully, so roundabout, that Saffron wondered if he worried about offending her. But why … Suspicion gripped her. "Alexander, at which train station did Adrian's train arrive?"

"King's Cross."

"Which means the police officers on the scene—"

"Came from the King's Cross Road police station, yes."

Understanding sank like a lead weight in her stomach. "And the detective responsible for the case?"

There was no hint of apology in Alexander's gaze when he answered, "Detective Inspector Green."

Alexander resisted the urge to remove invisible wrinkles from the tablecloth yet again and withdrew his hands into his lap. He tried not to seem like he was avidly watching Saffron's every expression, but when they were displayed so plainly, it was hard not to. He'd never needed to make excuses to himself for why he looked at her so intently. She was every bit as fascinating as the specimens he spent hours gazing at through his microscope and just as unpredictable, never more so than in this moment. This time, however, it was a growing sense of having made a horrible mistake, rather than that deepening affection, that kept his eyes glued to her face.

Her fine brows came together as she pieced through the scant information he'd given her and drew conclusions he hoped were mostly wrong. At last, she spoke in a flat voice he didn't recognize. "So this was all a ruse to ask me to help your brother."

He felt like a caiman had snapped up his tongue. She'd skipped over the wrong conclusions and landed on the worst possible one. "No," he said firmly.

Her lips twisted in a humorless smile. "Asking me to dinner and plying me with entertaining stories was not a ploy to butter me up before you asked me to intercede with Inspector Green on Adrian's behalf?"

"I asked you to dinner because I wanted to see you." Beneath the table, his hands balled into fists. "But I can't deny that I wanted to ask for the benefit of your advice."

Saffron was obviously not convinced by his almost-truth. Resisting the feeling of defeat clawing its way over his shoulders, he added, "I do want to ask for your help. But that is not why I wanted to spend time with you."

He might have said more, explained about the way he'd stared at the chair in his office, imagining her there over the past few weeks. And passed by her empty office unnecessarily. And now had a strange collection of office mates. But she abruptly slid from the booth, color high in her cheeks and her lips tightening into a line.

He followed her. "Saffron, give me a moment to explain."

"I don't think I require any further explanation." She snatched up her handbag from the table before rounding on him. "Whenever I become involved in a police investigation, you encourage me to cry off. The last time, when I was helping to catch a murderer who'd killed three women, you threatened to go to Dr. Aster, whom you know would have sacked me for misusing my work hours and resources. And now, when it's convenient for you, you want me to interfere. I'd never taken you for a hypocrite, Alexander."

Her words stung all the more for their truth, one he'd accepted the moment he realized things were going south for his brother faster than he could work out how to fix them. She seemed to be missing a key point: the lack of danger in her becoming involved in Adrian's situation compared to those other investigations. But he certainly wasn't going to point that out now. "You're right."

Saffron nodded firmly. "I am."

"I am being hypocritical in the extreme."

"You are," she confirmed, though with less confidence.

"And I apologize."

"You should."

The barest twinkle of amusement in her eyes encouraged him. He stepped closer, gently taking her handbag and setting it on the table. "I am sorry. For threatening to tell Aster and thereby threatening your career. And I am also sorry for the way I acted toward Lee." The words burned, but they needed to be said. "You were right. I did not make the extent of my feelings for you known when I left for the expedition, and you were right to tell me off for having expectations I had not communicated. I'm sorry for all of it."

Her eyes narrowed. "But?"

He shook his head. "There is none. I did not react well when I returned, about us, or the case, or Lee. And I'm sorry for apologizing in combination with asking for help regarding Adrian's situation. But"—he rushed on, seeing her ire rekindling—"I want you to know that I would have apologized at the first chance regardless."

After an interminable moment, Saffron nodded. She slipped her hand from his and made her way to the door, where the ma?tre d' assisted with her coat. Alexander followed, donning his own coat and hat before they stepped outside.

"May I walk you to your flat?" he asked.

From beneath her umbrella, she gave him another narrowed-eye look. "I suppose."

Though he'd rather they shared an umbrella, he opened his own. The rain had turned to a fine mist, haloing every light they passed with gold.

It brought to mind the night they'd walked together in search of a taxi following their adventure in Berking's garden. He bit his tongue on bringing it up. He had no idea how to walk the line between wanting to rekindle something of their past affections and not putting Saffron off after asking for her help. Even as he needed to give her time to accept his apology and move past his mistakes, he felt the urgency of every passing moment that Inspector Green and the others cemented their opinions about his brother's guilt.

He waited until they'd reached her street to bring it up again.

"I know the timing is poor," he said, pausing outside her building. She stopped and angled her umbrella so they could look at one another. Her neutral expression only made him warier. "And if there was another option, I would have taken it."

"What do you want me to do, Alexander?" she asked impatiently. "I don't expect the inspector would appreciate me walking into the station and demanding he dismiss one of his suspects."

"Of course, that isn't what I'm asking."

"Then what?"

"Adrian said that the man appeared unwell. The police have asked him again and again if the man consumed anything on the train, if Adrian gave him anything, even a cigarette. He didn't, but they don't seem to believe him."

Saffron frowned, ignoring the water dripping from the umbrella's point onto her shoulder. "They think he was poisoned."

A mixture of relief at her understanding and worry for Adrian made his stomach turn uneasily. "Yes."

To his surprise, Saffron let out a laugh. "Just because I know things about poisonous plants doesn't mean I'll be of any use in proving your brother didn't slip the man something! How can you expect me—"

"The man who died was a scientist. A horticulturalist. He worked in a lab," he said quickly, "so you might be familiar with some plant or chemical he worked with."

"And now I'm supposed to snoop around his lab?" She lifted an arm in exasperation. "Should I run up to change my shoes so I might creep around his garden too? Alexander, you're asking me to do exactly what you told me off for doing before. That isn't fair."

He hung his head, wondering how the conversation had gotten so off track. "I'm not asking you to do anything of the kind. You have knowledge that might help the inspector solve the case. I'm not asking you to do anything more than offer your help to Inspector Green. Showing that the man died from ingesting some chemical from his lab will help Adrian."

"Simple. Easy," she said sourly. "I'll just tell Inspector Green to hand all the information over to me. He knows you and I have—had—a relationship of some kind, and he won't suspect I'm up to something. No, not the detective inspector. He'll never suspect a thing. Excellent plan."

She turned and stomped up the steps to the flat. He took the steps two at a time to beat her to the top, where he held open the door. She shot him a dark look as she closed her umbrella and stepped inside.

That didn't put him off. Even though he could feel his chances of fixing things between them dwindling with every sarcastic word from her mouth, he needed to do something to help his brother. At present, that looked like chasing Saffron up the stairs to her flat.