The Untamed Mackenzie

world; he prefers the one he made for himself. I wish he could see that his world is a good one. He does something. People like Gil are wonderful—Gil is good at making people feel happy. But he’s never had to worry about anything in his life, has he? If everything were stripped from Gil, would he be the same? I know Lloyd would be. Even if all Inspector Fellows had worked for was taken from him, he’d still walk straight through it all, come what may.”

Louisa stopped, finally running out of breath. The room had cooled with the night and dying fire. Ian sat comfortably in the darkness, the low firelight touching his face.

Louisa closed her eyes, deciding to be silent with him. She had nothing more to say, and her heart was burning.

“Mrs. Leigh-Waters,” Ian said.

Louisa popped her eyes open. Ian had turned to her, watching her. In the past Ian had had trouble looking into a person’s eyes, but tonight he was relaxed, thoughtful, and easily meeting her gaze.

Louisa blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Mrs. Leigh-Waters,” Ian repeated, as though waiting for Louisa to catch up.

“What about her?”

“You should speak to her.”

Louisa tried to remember all she’d said since she’d come in and which part Ian was responding to. “You mean I should talk to her about the garden party again?”

Ian made a slow nod. “She invited the guests.”

Louisa sat still a moment, turning his words over in her mind. What Ian said always had deeper meaning than his listener first supposed.

She invited the guests. Mrs. Leigh-Waters hadn’t asked her entire social circle to her garden party—the guest list had been fairly exclusive. Why had she invited certain people and not others?

“Hmm,” Louisa said. “I think I see what you mean.”

Ian turned his head and looked away, finished with the discussion.

“Thank you, Ian.”

A small clock on a shelf struck midnight. Outside the windows, church clocks in Mayfair and beyond took up the chime.

Ian rose, pulled out his pocket watch, checked it against the clocks, and made a minute adjustment. “I’ll go to Beth now. She will be tired.”

So that was why Ian had come in here—he was counting the minutes until he could take Beth home. Beth would have insisted on staying a polite amount of time; Ian would have insisted on an exact hour to take their leave. They always worked out their differences so beautifully.

“Tell Beth good night for me,” Louisa said.

The clocks were still chiming, and Ian didn’t wait on ceremony. He walked swiftly out of the room without a good-bye, as though he had to reach Beth before the last stroke of midnight. Ian pursuing his Cinderella.

They’d endured so much, Ian and Beth, had found each other through fire and fog. They deserved every moment of the happiness they had now.

Louisa supposed she ought to go home with them. Fellows had likely departed, and Louisa had no desire to return to the ballroom and paste a false smile on her face for a few more hours. Beth would not mind dropping Louisa at Isabella’s on the way home.

Ian had already disappeared, however, by the time Louisa had made up her mind and left the office. She found no sign of Ian in the back hall or in the corridor that led around to the front door.

The foyer was still full of people, though not the crush that had filled it when she’d entered the assembly rooms earlier tonight. Louisa didn’t see Ian or Beth there, going out, nor did she see Mr. Fellows. She did spy Daniel, who was talking with his usual animation to a knot of guests, no doubt charming them to pieces. Daniel was just nineteen now and already friends with half of England, not to mention all of Scotland and probably most of Wales.

A look into the games room showed her Hart Mackenzie lounging at a card table like a king among his subjects, in no hurry to depart. Cheroot smoke layered the air like fog.

Ian had likely decided to scoot Beth out a back door to avoid the crowd. Louisa made her way again to the little hall that led to the office, turning a corner beyond it to seek a rear door.

Inspector Fellows was there, his broad back to her as he opened the door, letting in a draft of cool spring air.

Louisa sped her steps, her anger returning. She raced forward and grabbed the sleeve of his coat, just as Fellows stepped out into the night.

Fellows swung around, eyes blazing, his hand going automatically to Louisa’s throat, and the other balled into a hard fist, pulled back to punch.

In the next instant, he blinked. “Louisa. Bloody hell.” He moved his hand so swiftly from her that she felt a warm breeze on her skin. “Don’t do that.”

Louisa stared at him. “Did you think I was a robber? In Mayfair assembly rooms?”

Fellows had taken a step back, but his hands were still clenched, his face flushed. “You’d be surprised where thieves lurk. Why aren’t you in the ballroom, dancing with all your beaux?”

“I don’t have any beaux, and I was looking for you.”

“Why?”

The door was still half open, the two of them on the doorstep. Neither in nor out, neither forward nor back. Like their friendship, Louisa thought.

“You walked away,” she said. “I was defending you. You snapped at me as though I’d insulted you, and then you turned your back and walked away.”

Fellows gave her an impatient look. “I know I’m rude. I wasn’t raised to this life.”

“A poor excuse. You can be perfectly civil—I’ve seen you be. What did I do to earn your wrath this evening?”

Fellows reached behind her and pulled the door closed. They were alone in the night, in a dim passage steps away from the busy street. “Understand, Louisa, I can’t discuss what I investigate with everyone in the ballroom. You and Mac are one thing, but Mr. Franklin himself was at the garden party. He is a suspect.”

“Gil?” Louisa’s eyes widened. “Surely not. Gil wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Hargate wasn’t a fly. He was a pompous git from what I hear, and he proposed to you. From the way Mr. Franklin looked at you, he’s happy the bishop is no longer around to be his rival.”

“That is ridiculous . . . ” But Gil had made it clear tonight he wanted to speak to Louisa about more than friendship. Perhaps not so ridiculous, but Gil? “I still don’t think Gil capable of murdering anyone,” she said, certain. “And in any case, we weren’t asking for a summation of the case in minute detail. We only wanted to know if you’d discovered anything important.”

Fellows looked down at her in angry silence, resembling a Highland warrior even more out here in the dark. Louisa’s imagination made the tailored coat and ivory waistcoat become a linen shirt and great kilt wrapped around his shoulders; the glint of his watch chain blurred into the hilt of a dirk. He was powerful, strong, nothing tame about him. At any moment, he’d snatch her up and carry her off, a Highlander stealing himself a bride.

Louisa jumped when he reached out and seized her wrist. Reality and fantasy melded, and her heart pounded.

“Come with me,” he said, voice hard. “If you want to understand why I can’t give you the simple answers you want, come with me, and I’ll show you.”

He didn’t wait for her to debate. Fellows pulled Louisa out of the passage and to the street, April wind rushing at them as they emerged into the wider avenue. Louisa could have protested, jerked away, run back to the safety of the assembly rooms. But she didn’t. She let Fellows hold her, Louisa following her Highlander into the dark.

Fellows gave a sharp whistle through his teeth. A hansom cab a little way away jerked forward, the horse’s hooves clopping as the carriage came toward them. Fellows had obviously already planned his escape.

He opened the door and all but shoved Louisa into the cab. She didn’t have her wrap, but she had no desire to rush back inside to fetch it. The night was warm enough, Fellows might change his mind if he had to wait, and Louisa wanted very much to run off with him, wherever he was taking her.