Chapter 1

One

DECEMBER, 1890, LONDON

Our coach pulled in through the gated entrance at Sussex Square, my great-aunt's residence in London.

Lady Antonia Montgomery, my great-aunt, had raised my sister and me after the deaths of both our parents. She was the nearest family there was for the both of us.

Except of course for the man seated across from me, Angus Brodie, formerly of the Metropolitan Police now with his own private inquiry business, and… under circumstances that were still quite surprising for me— my husband. At least as far as the magistrate in the north of Scotland was satisfied.

I say, quite surprising, as I had been fairly certain, until two years ago, precisely what the path of my life would be. I had avoided that dreaded state of matrimony with particular expectations for one of my station.

I had previously ended what I was certain was going to be a very boring and mind-numbing proper betrothal, and begun my travels that included Europe, the Near East, encountered the Bedouin, sailed the Nile, and lived for some time in the Far East where I had followed my curiosity and experienced things that respectable English women simply did not do.

That included dueling lessons in France— I was quite accomplished in that, the ancient art of self-defense in the Orient, and other sports while proper ladies indulged in games of whist or lawn tennis, and quietly discussed when they might be given the vote after it was banned some decades earlier.

It might be said that my unusual childhood, raised in the wilds of Scotland at my aunt's estate, Old Lodge, or her somewhat unconventional household in London, might not have been the proper environment for two young girls.

It might be… But I had loved it and as for my sister, she had survived quite nicely.

Now it seemed that earlier experience with my aunt had come full circle. Or possibly a partial circle in the young girl who was now my ward.

It was one of those occasions where I had leapt before I looked, so to speak, after encountering Lily in a previous inquiry case in Edinburgh.

She was orphaned as far as she or anyone knew, working in a brothel… No, not that sort of work. She was the women's maid and worldly beyond her years, with a fiery disposition and courage that I much admired.

She had been helpful in assisting me during the case, even at the risk to herself. Admittedly, she had seen it as a great adventure in her otherwise dull and boring life.

The thought of her returning to work in a brothel or tavern which I had seen far too many times in the East End, was not something I was willing to accept.

I had made a proposal to provide for her education and care for the next several years. Perhaps more than a little suspicious of my offer— something I could identify with— she had initially refused.

Then I had received a telegram informing me that she had changed her mind. Mr. Munro, the manager of my aunt's estates, had set off to Edinburgh to retrieve her. She had arrived very nearly two months before, wide-eyed, curious yet guarded, and declared that she would give it a try.

It was pointed out at the time by more than one person, including Brodie, that she reminded them of me. I do not know where that idea came from.

It might have been that hint of stubbornness, determination to do things her own way, and that insatiable curiosity.

Whatever the reason, here we were.

Lily spent a great deal of time at Sussex Square for a variety of reasons, which my aunt had immediately pointed out.

Reason number one: Our aunt had previous experience as a parental figure with my sister and I, and she was quite accustomed to having someone young about.

Reason number two: My aunt knew precisely the best people to contact. That included tutors, dressmakers, and most particularly someone who was well-schooled in proper elocution.

Lily, my aunt declared, could simply not go about speaking as she did when she first arrived. She would either find herself in a brawl or the gaol. There was that influence of the streets and the brothel, which I fully understood.

Admittedly she had a habit of cursing, quite colorful with that Scots accent. I thought the person in charge of that might have their hands full as I was still given to a colorful word myself from time to time.

Reason number three: There were my novels and the cases I participated in with Brodie, along with that other situation…

A newly married woman needed to spend time with her husband, my aunt declared. However, not from practical experience it should be noted.

At the age of almost eighty-five years she had never wed. Not for lack of interest or suitors, but simply for lack of anyone who fit into her life. And there was that strong-willed, independent nature.

I had wondered where mine came from. I didn't need to look any further than my aunt.

The apple, as they say, had not fallen far from that tree, a tree that went back to the time of William the Conqueror with an assortment of noblemen and thieves along the way.

I, too, had declared that I would never wed…

Then, there was Brodie.

He could be stubborn, from the streets as they say, not at all the sort of man a proper young woman might choose. But despite his rough edges and curses when he was angry, his loyalty went soul deep. He was also the most honorable man I had ever met, I thought, looking across at him now.

And he was devilishly handsome with those dark eyes that looked at me in a certain way… when he wasn't angry with me over something. That certain way reminded me of our very first unexpected encounter some years before, then again when he had helped in the matter of finding my sister in that first inquiry case.

Then there was that other thing…

It was something my aunt, of all people, had told me. He made my toes curl… with just that look in those dark eyes, and what usually followed.

So, there it was, all of my well-intentioned plans out the window so to speak— married, very well married, thank you, even though there were still parts of this that Brodie and I were still figuring out; much like a murder case to be investigated.

And there was the role of parent, that seemed very much to be an arrangement with the whole family, including my sister who had recently declared that Lily's manners were atrocious, and was determined that she needed some refinement. That included music and voice lessons.

I thought that might be taking things a bit far, but had decided to withhold any judgment in that regard. Lily certainly didn't seem the refined, musical sort. But then what did I know about raising a half-grown young woman, other than having once been one.

For all those reasons, Lily spent a great deal of time at Sussex Square. She had my old room, and the sword room— a girl after my own heart on that.

For his part, Brodie had not hesitated at the arrangement. He had merely cautioned that she was not a child, but a young woman very nearly grown, who had the sort of life experiences that others had not.

But the truth was, that so far he made a wonderful father figure— stern when he had to be, indulgent in ways he never had experienced as a child himself, and supportive of me— while juggling inquiry cases and new work for the Agency.

As for today, my sister, Lenore, had sent round a message that Lily was to give a music recital for the family this afternoon.

So here we were, Brodie and I, navigating this new aspect of our relationship, and attending Lily's first recital.

Upon our arrival and greeting by my aunt's head butler, Mr. Symons, we discovered that a "small family affair" included several of my aunt's close acquaintances, those she usually invited for cards or tarot readings.

My sister, Linnie, met us at the entrance to the grand salon.

"Mikaela, Mr. Brodie, I am so glad that you're here," she greeted us. "Lily has been doing marvelous with her lessons and I thought this would be a way of rewarding her."

I wasn't certain about the reward part of that comment. The day before Lily had taken me aside and asked if there was something else she might do besides the "stinkin' music lessons."

"What am I supposed to do with music lessons?" she had asked.

She most certainly wasn't shy expressing an opinion.

It seemed that Linnie's opinions of Lily's enthusiasm for music and voice lessons might be a bit different than hers. And given her outright dislike, I didn't bother to mention that refined skills such as music were often expected of a young woman in anticipation of marriage.

"I'm a-feared that I'll go mush-headed with all the music, and voice lessons," Lily had bemoaned, reminiscent of myself at her age.

"It's boring!"

At her age, I had tried and succeeded at doing anything other than those boring lessons myself, which accounted for the fact that I much preferred music hall or stage performances by my friend, Templeton, over operas and concerts.

I had persuaded Lily to keep up with the lessons a little longer and here we were. She had been encouraged that it might only be for a little while longer, however looking over at her now seated at the piano, she looked absolutely miserable.

"Mr. Adams says that she does show promise," Linnie continued, as we gave our coats and umbrellas to Mr. Symons.

Promise?

I exchanged a look with Brodie. He refused to respond to my sister on that one and I was inclined to agree.

I glanced about the music room, then at Lily.

My aunt rose from her chair and swept across the floor toward us.

"This is so exciting," she declared. "Mr. Adams has high hopes for her. He said that Lily is quite talented."

I was already aware of that, however my aunt's definition of talented did not include escaping a burning building, picking pockets, or a vocabulary of curses that would have made the most common street person envious.

Brodie and I were working on that one with her. However, there was a saying that you couldn't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. While I did not consider Lily to be the latter, I was convinced that she had no use for the silk purse part of it. At least not the part that included music and voice lessons. Bravo, I thought.

"This should be most interestin'," Brodie commented as he escorted me across the salon to our chairs.

I was to remember that, along with a dozen more things afterward, in what followed.

Mr. Adams had Lily start with a piece from Beethoven that I recognized, then a piece I was not familiar with— in consideration of my own rebellion at her age.

"Mozart," my sister whispered. "I've always loved this piece, and she is quite good, don't you think?"

Quite bored, came to mind as I watched her fingers fly across the keys, her mouth thinned.

While I thought her efforts quite exemplary, I saw the explosion coming.

"Oh, dear," I whispered.

"What is it?" Brodie replied.

There was no time to explain, only the sound as Lily's hands pounced on the piano keys.

Pounced was certainly the right word. She then launched into a different piece, complete with colorful lyrics.

"There was a girl from Halifax who went about in her garters;

She charged six pence for just a look, and more to share her quarters…"

I thought the esteemed Mr. Adams might have apoplexy, as Lily then moved on to another equally colorful verse.

Brodie made a sound, his hand over his mouth— he might have been clearing his throat. However, I could have sworn there was a smile there, that dark gaze meeting mine.

"A tune you're familiar with?" I whispered as Mr. Adams attempted to end the recital.

"I havena heard it in a while."

"From your time as a boy on the streets of Edinburgh?" I asked with equal amusement.

I glanced over at Lily. I could have sworn there was a triumphant smile in that dark gaze with that glint of blue about the edges that I had seen before during that inquiry case in Edinburgh.

All the while she pounded the keys of the piano, in spite of Mr. Adams' best efforts to encourage her back to Mozart, and swung into a bawdy chorus— that was the only word for it— her dark hair dancing about her shoulders.

"There is another part of it she hasna gotten to yet," he commented, then cautioned. "Ye might want to intervene before one of her ladyship's acquaintances faints from the experience."

Good advice, I thought. I rose and crossed the salon. I laid a hand on Lily's shoulder.

"Most entertaining," I complimented her, struggling to keep the laughter from my voice.

"Do ye like it, miss? There's more to it," she replied.

According to Brodie there was a great deal more to it, however with a glance about the salon I wasn't at all certain that the others would survive it.

Except for my aunt, of course, who struggled with her own amusement. As for my sister, she had closed her eyes and simply shook her head.

"I think refreshments are in order," my aunt announced as Mr. Adams attempted to apologize to her for Lily's lack of "proficiency."

"Proficiency?" my aunt exclaimed. "It would seem that she was most proficient."

I suspected that was completely lost on Mr. Adams who considered himself quite the master of music. He hadn't a clue, unlike my aunt and myself, that Lily had achieved exactly what she had intended. And it was an amusing little ditty, I had to admit. The sort that one cannot forget and keeps playing over and over in one's head.

Refreshments were served that included tea and scones. I wasn't one for tea, but the scones were wonderful.

Lily had not yet adjusted to the fact that there was more than enough food at my townhouse in Mayfair, or here at Sussex Square. I caught her slipping two scones into the pocket of her gown.

She looked up at me with unabashed bravado. "Fer later tonight. I might get hungry." She glanced past me. "There's no harm is there, Mr. Brodie?"

That earlier bemused expression was gone, replaced by a slight frown surrounded by that dark beard.

"No harm," he assured her, as he leaned in close, and I caught the faint scent of cinnamon about him that I so enjoyed.

"I must be going," he informed me.

I didn't bother to hide my disappointment. I was expected at a reception within the hour and had hoped he might accompany me. And afterward…

"Sir Avery?" I replied.

"Aye, some important work that I need to attend to."

It was not my habit to be petulant or unreasonable about things. I usually went my own way as was my habit. Still there was disappointment. It was one of those things we were still trying to figure out about this new aspect of our relationship, along with a myriad of others.

"Work?" Lily exclaimed. "What sort of work?"

That was another one of the things. Lily knew about our inquiry cases, but she wasn't aware of his work for the Agency and had only recently learned of my other vocation as it were— as an author.

Brodie didn't offer Lily an explanation now, as he obviously thought it best to keep that aspect of his work between the two of us.

He slipped a finger beneath my chin, drawing my attention. It was a rare public gesture as he was surprisingly quite reserved about that sort of thing in public. Imagine that, Brodie shy about something. The gestures in private however, more than made up for it.

"I know that ye have that reception this afternoon," he said then. "I will try to be there."

"Of course."

This was not the first time we would need to go our separate ways, and undoubtedly would not be the last. Our inquiry cases had a way of taking precedence.

That brought up the question, what sort of work was he involved in that he had so far chosen not to share with me?

"Reception?" Lily asked.

I explained as my aunt's driver brought the coach round.

"And they throw a party when ye have a new book?" she exclaimed.

I replied that it was all a part of getting my name out there… or rather that of Emma Fortescue and promoting each new book as it was released by the publisher.

"Now," I said as we settled in the coach. "You must tell me about the performance you gave. It was most interesting."

That dark blue gaze met mine. "Ye're not angry with me, are ye?"

I loved her lively spirit and stubbornness about things. Those qualities had most certainly saved both of our lives in that previous case in Scotland. She was brave and self-confident. Most of the time.

Her question now revealed another side that was hesitant, perhaps vulnerable, and I reminded myself that in making the decision to take me up on my offer and come to London, she was taking an enormous chance with people she hardly knew.

And I loved her impromptu performance.

I smiled, remembering some of my own transgressions very near her age.

"I loved it," I told her. "You must perform all of it some time."

"And her ladyship?" she asked with a noticeable quiver in her voice which told me a great deal as well.

"Trust me, she loved it as well."

I then shared what was considered a transgression of mine when I was unable to tolerate another boring lesson. It had to do with escaping the second-floor room at Sussex Square in nothing more than my camisole and knickers before one of our tutors arrived.

That particular episode precluded my aunt's decision to send my sister and I to private school in France.

"France?" Lily exclaimed. "I've heard wicked things about France. However did ye survive?"

"Quite well actually." For now, I did not go into further details.

That would be a conversation for another day.