had managed to escape the discomfort and humiliation of being indicted, tried, and punished. 'Good,' he finally said grimly. 'I only wish I'd been able to stay at Boodles long enough to enjoy the show.'
The magistrate frowned at the callous comment. 'The sentiment is beneath you, Morgan, though I understand its source.'
Grant did not respond to the quiet rebuke. He was not sorry in the least for what he had said. In his opinion, Lord Lane's death had been far too merciful, much better than he had deserved. However, something else troubled him, and it would have to be addressed before any plans for his own future could be discussed. 'I don't have your dispassionate nature, sir...though God knows I wish I did.'
'Well, dispassionate or not, I have an offer for you. One I hope you'll consider carefully.'
'What kind of offer?'
'Well...it pertains to the fact that I've just accepted commissions to serve as justice for Essex, Kent, Herfordshire, and Surrey, in addition to the ones I already hold.'
Grant threw him a glance of surprise and let out a low, appreciative whistle. The new appointments would extend Cannon's reach considerably. He had been doing the work of two men so far. Now he would be doing the work of six. So far as Grant knew, no police magistrate had ever been granted such authority.
'The public uproar is only just beginning,' Cannon continued dryly. 'The general consensus will be that I'm power-mad and reaching far beyond my rightful jurisdiction. And perhaps I am. It's only that I can't see another way to deal with crime, other than to regard it as a war that must be waged insideand outside London.'
'Then your critics can go hang themselves,' Grant commented.
'If only they would,' Cannon agreed ruefully.
Smiling, Grant reached out and shook the magistrate's hand. 'Congratulations,' he said cheerfully. 'You've a hell of a job before you. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, but I've no doubt you'll find some way to manage.'
'Thank you,' Cannon murmured, expressionless save for a sudden gleam of amusement in his wolfish eyes. 'Actually, that leads to the question I have for you. I want to submit you as my choice for assistant police magistrate, to serve alongside me.'
Grant stared at him in open amazement. The idea instantly took root inside him. Serving as a police magistrate would allow him to stay close to the work that fascinated him, but at the same time it would remove him from the danger of the streets. He would have to learn a great deal about the law--a welcome challenge--and he would still be required to investigate difficult cases. However, he couldn't help reflecting on what he knew of the magistrate's celibate, orderly, industrious life, and comparing it with his own. A doubtful, self-mocking smile touched his lips.
'The position automatically confers honorary knighthood,' Cannon remarked, 'if that appeals to you.'
'Sir Grant,' he said with a short laugh, and shook his head at the odd sound of it. 'Hell. I should jump at the chance, but...I don't think I'm suitable.' Cannon regarded him intently. 'Why not?'
Grant hesitated and glanced down at his hands. The skin of his knuckles and palms was scraped and battered after his experiences of the previous day. 'You saw what I did to Keyes,' he muttered.
'Yes,' Cannon said after a moment. 'You did him considerable violence. However, you had provocation.'
'I almost killed him. I had my knife out, and...I would have killed him, except that Victoria was watching.'
'In the heat of battle--'
'No, there was no heat,' Grant interrupted swiftly, laying his soul bare. 'For a moment my thoughts were cold and damned clear. I became judge, jury, and executioner. I gave myself the power to end his life, and I would have done it happily. Except that I didn't wanther to see me do it, and always carry that memory in the back of her mind.' He threw a grim smile in Cannon's direction. 'Now do you still want me to serve as a magistrate, knowing that I'm capable of such a lapse?'
The magistrate regarded him thoughtfully, considering his reply. 'See here, Morgan...I'm not dispassionate by nature, no matter what appearances may lead you to believe. Had I seen the woman I loved being attacked in such a manner, I may have done the same thing, or worse. We all have regrettable lapses. As I told you, I'm not a perfect man. And I would hardly expect more of you than I would of myself.'
Grant grinned suddenly, relieved that the magistrate did not consider his actions to be unforgivable. 'All right, then. I accept the position. I could use a bit of respectability. I'm getting damned tired of spending my days pursuing thieves and cutthroats on foot. Besides, with any luck, I'll soon have a wife and family to think about.'
'Ah. You wish to marry Miss Devane, then.'
Picturing Victoria waiting at home for him, Grant felt a smile...a warm, uncynical smile...tugging at the corner of his mouth. 'All these years I thought of marriage as a noose around my neck,' he said. 'I swore it would never happen to me. And now it doesn't sound half bad.' The flippant words concealed a sudden ache of longing inside. He needed Victoria...His life would not be complete without her. He experienced a sudden urgency to return to her and set about persuading her to accept his proposal.
He could have sworn that Cannon almost smiled at the comment. 'It's not half bad,' the magistrate assured him. 'And with the right woman, it can be...' Cannon paused in search of a word, and then appeared to drift into a sweet, long-forgotten memory. He collected himself after a few seconds of silence. The gray eyes were warmer than Grant had ever seen them. 'Good luck, Morgan,' he said.
Victoria spent most of the morning in the town house's private garden. It was a cool, humid day, the sky liberally laced with clouds, the air stirring with mild breezes. She sat at the stone table and read for a while, then wandered along graveled paths bordered with boxes of lilac, jessamine, and Russian honeysuckle. The carefully tended garden was bordered by poplar hedges and ivy-covered walls. Well-stocked beds of flowering and fruitbearing plants lined the walking paths and filled the air with perfume. In this small, secluded world, it seemed as if the city were a hundred miles away. It was difficult not to be contented in such beautiful surroundings.
But she was aware of a growing need to return to White Rose Cottage. She needed to see her sister and be assured of Vivien's well-being. Moreover, Victoria felt a strong urge to return to familiar surroundings and rediscover herself in the comfort of her own home. Although her memory had returned, she knew that she wouldn't feel settled in her mind and heart until she had spent a few days at White Rose Cottage. Sitting at the stone garden table, she rested her head on her folded arms.
'What are you doing out here?'
A masculine voice penetrated the swirl of her thoughts. Lifting her head, Victoria smiled as she saw Grant standing there. He sat in a nearby chair, facing her, and took her hand in his. With the other hand he caressed the cool skin of her cheek, his thumb lightly brushing one of the shadows beneath her eyes. 'You should take a nap,' he murmured. 'I'm going to take you back to Bow Street for a deposition this afternoon--I want you to be well rested.'
Victoria leaned the side of her face into his hand. 'I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking.'
'About what, my love?'
'I want to see my sister. I want to go to Forest Crest and sleep in my own bed.'
Grant removed his coat and placed it over her shoulders, enfolding her in the thick silk-lined broadcloth. The garment held the warmth and scent of his body, and she held it closely around herself. His voice was like a stroke of velvet as he spoke above her head. 'I'll take you there after the deposition. We'll stay for as long as you like.'
'Thank you, but...it's best that I go alone. I want to think clearly, and I can't do it with you there.'
Grant was silent, and she knew he was struggling with a burst of impatience. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and cool. 'What exactly do you plan to think about?'
Victoria shrugged. 'Who I am...my past...my future...'
His long fingers slid beneath her chin, and he tilted it upward until she was forced to stare into his expressionless face. 'You mean your future with me,' he said.
'I just want to go home and reflect on everything that's happened to me. My life has changed so quickly, don't you see?'
His short sigh conveyed a wealth of frustration. Reaching out for her, he lifted her into his lap and slid his hand beneath his coat. The warmth of his palm sank through her gown to the side of her breast. 'I understand,' he said reluctantly. 'But I don't like the idea of you traveling alone and staying in Forest Crest without my protection.'
The possessiveness in his voice made her smile. 'Grant...before I met you, I lived for quite a long time
