Scandal Above Stairs

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Scandal Above Stairs Page 28

by Jennifer Ashley


  “You are good to Mr. Thanos,” I said with conviction. “And your son.”

  “Do you like it, Kat?”

  The change in his voice made my senses sharpen. “It is not a bad place,” I said, trying to sound offhand. “I will have to inspect the kitchen and see if it passes muster, but otherwise . . .” I gave him a nod. “I approve.”

  His full smile shone out. “Thank heavens for that. Perhaps you will deign to visit me once in a while?” The question was hopeful.

  “While Mr. Thanos and James are recovering, certainly,” I said. “Otherwise, it would be improper.”

  Daniel’s eyes sparkled. “I’ll find us a chaperone, then. I promise that you will never have to worry about your reputation with me, Mrs. Holloway.”

  “I should certainly hope not,” I said. It was what I was supposed to say.

  Can I be blamed if I felt a frisson of disappointment? A lady doesn’t truly want to let herself be seduced and ruined, of course, but sometimes she would like to think she has the choice.

  “What will you do now?” I asked quickly. “Now that the mystery of the stolen antiquities is solved and the villains taken? Pursue Mr. Pilcher?”

  Daniel sobered. “I don’t know. Is it worth it, raking up the past? But then I remember . . . It was so horrible, Kat. They killed everyone in that house. No caring, no remorse. Can I let men like that get away?”

  “It was a long time ago,” I reminded him.

  “The passing of years doesn’t make their crime any less.” Daniel shook his head. “It has driven my life. Turning a corner, taking a different direction . . .” His eyes held a flicker of something I couldn’t read, but I thought perhaps it was fear. “I don’t know if I’m able.”

  “You have James now.” I reached over and took his hand. “And me.”

  Daniel’s focus moved to me, all amusement gone. “Do I?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I am loyal to my friends. The true ones.”

  Daniel said nothing. He held my hand and studied me, emotions dancing into and out of his eyes faster than I could decipher them.

  “I’m not certain if what is around the corner is an easy path or a sudden cliff.” Daniel swallowed and tightened his grip. “It terrifies me.”

  I heard the truth in his words, saw his uncertainty. I understood—when I’d heard of my husband’s death and then found out I was not a widow but an unmarried woman with an illegitimate child, an abyss had yawned before me. I’d held on to Grace and skirted the edge, barely making it back to firmer ground.

  I squeezed Daniel’s hand. “We will find out together,” I told him. “I promise.”

  Daniel abruptly leaned to me and kissed me. He closed his eyes as he did so, hiding all that was in them.

  The kiss was quicker and quieter than the one in the doctor’s house, and also full of gratitude and hope.

  “God bless you, Kat Holloway,” Daniel whispered.

  For answer, I pressed my hand to his cheek, feeling the prickle of his unshaved whiskers.

  Boots thumped on the stairs, and Cynthia’s frantic voice called down. “Do help me. The bloody man’s ready to go up on the roof and build himself an observatory.”

  Daniel was on his feet in an instant, and he pulled me up with him, still holding my hand as we made for the hall.

  “Damnation,” Daniel shouted up the stairs. “Do I have to strap you down, Thanos?”

  Elgin’s voice answered weakly. I could not help laughing as I ran up with Daniel, ready to assist, my good fortune at having such friends surrounding me with happiness.

  Photo by Silvio Portrait Design

  Jennifer Ashley is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Below Stairs Mysteries, including Death Below Stairs, and winner of a Romance Writers of America RITA Award. She also writes as national bestselling and award-winning author Allyson James and bestselling author Ashley Gardner. She lives in the Southwest with her husband and cats, and spends most of her time in the wonderful worlds of her stories.

  You can contact her online at jenniferashley.com and visit her at facebook.com/JenniferAshleyAllysonJamesAshleyGardner and twitter.com/JennAllyson.

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