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Story: Garden of Lies

“I’m not sure. I think I am trying to accustom myself to the notion of being admired for my intelligence.” He paused. “And my extensive experience in finding lost things.”

Her patience evaporated. “Well, what the devil did you expect me to admire about your person, sir?”

He nodded somberly. “Excellent question. What did I expect? I don’t think I can answer that at the moment so let us move on to the terms of our arrangement, Mrs. Kern.”

For some reason, the word arrangement stopped her cold. For the second time in the span of only a few minutes she suspected that he was employing a euphemism to imply an intimate liaison between the two of them—a liaison that most certainly did not exist.

“I’m afraid I’m not following you, sir,” she said.

She was acutely aware that her voice sounded uncharacteristically breathless. This was ridiculous, she thought. She must not allow him to rattle her in this fashion.

“I cannot guarantee that I will dutifully carry out every order you choose to issue,” he said, “but I can promise that ours will be an association of equals. As for situations in which there is some disagreement involved, we will discuss the issue thoroughly when possible before either of us makes a decision. Will that satisfy you?”

She pulled herself together with an effort of will. “The phrase when possible leaves a great deal of vagueness in the arrangement , don’t you think?”

“There may be situations where I shall be forced to make a decision before I have an opportunity to consult with you. I feel it is only fair that I have some room to maneuver—some freedom to exercise my own intuition and judgment.”

“Hmm.” She gave him a cool smile. “And I must have a similar degree of latitude, of course, as I am the one who will be spending a few hours each week in the Fulbrook household. Obviously I will not be able to simply excuse myself for a few moments to consult with you before I take advantage of the odd opportunity that might present itself.”

His jaw tightened. “Just a moment—”

She smiled, quite satisfied. “I accept your terms, sir. Now, precisely how do you intend to contribute to my investigation?”

Slater was no longer looking quite so assured. His eyes were a little tight at the corners.

“I hope to contribute to our investigation by taking a close look at the Fulbrook family,” Slater said very deliberately. “You did say you are convinced that if Anne Clifton was the victim of foul play, there must be a connection to the household, correct?”

“That is my theory, yes.” She brightened. “What do you know of the Fulbrook family?”

“Very little. But my mother was acquainted with Lord Fulbrook’s father. He moved in the same circles as my father.”

“I understand.” Enthusiasm ignited Ursula’s senses. “We could ask Lilly for her observations on the deceased Lord Fulbrook. She may well know something about the son and the family in general.”

“She will demand an explanation for our curiosity,” Slater warned.

“Yes, of course. But I feel quite certain that we can trust Lilly. Do you think she will be willing to assist us?”

“This is Lilly Lafontaine we are talking about. She will be thrilled to get the part.”

“The part?”

“Pardon me,” Slater said. “I meant that she will be thrilled to be involved in a murder investigation. It will appeal to her sense of drama. But when this is over you had better be prepared to see aspects of the venture appear in one of her plays.”

Ursula winced. “I suspect you are correct. Well, I suppose so long as she disguises the identities of those involved it will be all right.”

“After all,” Slater said, “who would believe a tale about a secretary and an archaeologist attempting to solve a murder?”

“Indeed.”

“That reminds me.”

“Of what?”

“Lilly invited us to dine with her tomorrow evening. It will give you the perfect opportunity to question her about the Fulbrook family.”

“How kind of her.” Ursula smiled, her spirits lifting rapidly. “You’re right, it would be very useful to obtain some information from her. I confess that at the moment I have no idea where I am going with this investigation.”

“Where we are going with this investigation.”

She ignored the correction. “Thank you, Mr. Roxton. I appreciate your assistance in this matter.”

“I think that, under the circumstances, you really should call me Slater.”

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She hoped the veil concealed her blush.

“Yes, of course,” she said briskly. “Thank you... Slater.”

There was a short pause. Belatedly it dawned on her that he was waiting for her to say something.

“Please call me Ursula,” she added.

“Thank you, Ursula.” He inclined his head. “I shall call for you at seven-thirty tomorrow evening. Is that agreeable?”

She thought about that for a few uncertain seconds.

When one considered the matter closely it was obvious that being alone in the carriage with Slater at night would be no different from being alone with him now, during the day.

But for some reason the prospect unnerved her a little.

She reminded herself that theirs was a partnership.

She smiled, satisfied with her logic. “I will be waiting.”

It was, she thought, a great pity that every gown in her wardrobe with the exception of her house dresses was black.