quantity of spirits.
“I want you to taste them each, then decide which is your favorite,” he said. “And I’ll give you a real pour of that one.”
“I’m not quite sure how you consider this small,” I said, taking the next glass.
“You’ll like this one. It smells like summer fruit. Clynelish, from the North Coast Highlands. Elegant and creamy.”
I took a sip. “This is nice. I almost like it.”
“I knew you’d come around.”
“Thank you, Jeremy,” I said. “I don’t know how I’d get on right now if I didn’t have you to distract me.”
“I’m rather indispensable, you know.”
I held up a hand when he reached for the next bottle. “No, not yet. I couldn’t possibly. This may be your male-tragedy cure, but you must remember I am a lady.”
He leaned forward. “I had noticed that, Em, when I was about nine. It was rather alarming.”
I giggled.
“Maybe just a little more,” I said. “This is an extraordinary cigar.”
“Your taste is excellent, darling.” Now he was laughing. Which made me laugh more, and soon we were both collapsed in mirth.
“So, is this what gentlemen do at their clubs?” I asked.
“It’s not nearly so entertaining at clubs,” he said, pouring again. “Lagavulin, from Islay. This has a spectacular finish—dark fruit beneath the peat.”
“Not bad,” I said. It appeared I was acquiring a taste for whisky. “I wonder if the Daltons will bury Cordelia near Mr. Dillman.”
“Must we return to morbid?” Jeremy asked.
“Together in death. I suppose that is morbid.”
“Decidedly.” He poured more Lagavulin into his glass and gulped it down. “I’d prefer to discuss just about anything. Including the Women’s Liberal Federation.”
“That’s quite a claim,” I said. “Can it be true?”
“Have I ever lied to you?” His eyes lingered on mine longer than they ought to have.
“Oh, Jeremy. You know I—”
“Just tell me, Em. Could it have been different? If you’d never met Hargreaves?”
Images of the two of us spun in my head—memories from childhood, the kiss we’d shared in Vienna when he told me he loved me. But I could not wrench my eyes away from his.
“It might have been different,” I whispered.
He dropped to his knees in front of me. “Emily—”
“No, Jeremy. No.” I stood up and stepped away from him. “It can’t be like that now.”
Just as I was about to become seriously concerned about the state of our friendship, he shook his head and started to laugh again.
“Oh, I know, Em,” he said. “But you’re bloody near irresistible to me. We need more whisky.” He returned to his chair and reached for the next bottle on the table. “Talisker, from the Isle of Skye.”
“It smells salty,” I said.
“Good. And the taste?”
“Sweet at first, but then peat.”
You’re learning,” he said.
“I don’t know about that.”
“Do you think Cordelia’s still in the park, or will they have moved her by now?” he asked.
“They’ve probably moved her.”
“To the morgue?”
“I suppose so.”
“I don’t know how you stomach all this, Em,” he said. “You’re stronger than I am.”
“I don’t like this part. But it’s worth it if I can find the person who did it to her.”
“Me, I’m inclined to crawl into bed and refuse to come out until he’s been hung, drawn, and quartered.”
“We don’t do that anymore,” I said.
“Maybe you don’t, but I certainly do. There’s nothing like the protection that comes from one’s bedcovers. My nurse taught me that when I was very small and she never, ever steered me wrong.”
“I was referring to hanging, drawing, and quartering,” I said.
He pulled open the last bottle. “I think you’ll like this. Cragganmore, from Speyside. Fruit, caramel, and toffee in the nose.”
“I do like toffee,” I said, taking the glass and raising it to my lips. “This is good. It feels so rich on the tongue.”
“I knew I’d bring you round to my way of thinking,” he said. “And as I’ve got such finely honed powers of persuasion, perhaps I ought to consider spending more time in the Lords. Get people rethinking the idea of acceptable punishment.”
I don’t know why, but this made me laugh. Hysterically. “Good heavens, I’d all but forgot you’ve a seat there. Have you ever even been?”
“Until now I’ve not had a suitable agenda to pursue,” he said, laughing with me.
“It took punishment to inspire your political passion?” I asked.
“Can you think of something better?”
“Hundreds of things,” I said. “This cigar, for example.”
“You’ve descended to the ridiculous.”
I would have agreed with him if I could have stopped laughing long enough.
“What’s going on here?” Colin asked, opening the door and looking at the two of us with more than a hint of irritation on his face.
Jeremy waved a hand at him. “Consolation, my friend. Your wife needed consoling, and whisky was all I could offer her in the circumstances. Would you like some?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” he said.
“Did you speak to the Daltons?” I asked.
“They’re in bad shape,” he said.
“I know. Very angry.”
“It’s entirely justifiable,” he said. “I’m sick that we didn’t stop this.”
“As am I,” I said.
“Which is why I plied her with drink,” Jeremy said. “Don’t be cross with me, Hargreaves.”
“Believe me, I’m not,” Colin said, taking the chair next to mine. “I’m thankful you were here to distract her. It’s the rest of it that’s tormenting me. More paint has been found—and the news of Cordelia’s death has already reached the far-flung corners of town. If you thought people were on edge before, wait till you step outside again. London feels on the verge of implosion.”
Jeremy rang the bell, and Davis appeared. “The Glenmorangie for your master, good man. I’ll brook no argument.”
Davis looked at Colin, who nodded before turning to Jeremy.
“I don’t suppose you have another one of those cigars?”
22
The Glenmorangie may indeed have been the best whisky, but the following morning, I found myself devoid of pleasant memories of any of them. Colin pulled the curtains back in our room and I groaned as the light hit my face. I rolled onto my stomach and dove under my pillow.
“You can’t hide from me,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
