garden tea?”
Doyle nodded. “You didn’t like the mage.”
“He smelled of gin and had dandruff in his eyebrows.” I took his empty mug and mine over to my little washbasin. “Do you remember what happened with the old sot?”
“Deidre asked him to conjure her a blue rabbit.” He came over to watch me wash the crockery. “But he couldn’t.”
“Kit?”
I looked up at Doyle’s concerned face and realized for the first time just how much I liked it. “Sorry.” The last thing I needed was to go sweet on a cop. “Before Deidre’s mum threw out the old tosser, he called me something. Something nasty. Do you remember what it was?”
“I must have missed that part of the tea.” He smiled a little. “Why do you care what a drunken old bully said?”
“Because someone called me the same thing today.”
The inspector wasn’t looking me in the eye anymore.
“‘Elshy,’” I said. “And I still don’t know what it means. Do you?”
He shook his head.
Like all cops, Tommy Doyle knew how to lie. Most defenders of the truth usually did. I decided not to press the issue—for now. “So why have you come to call on Disenchanted & Company, Inspector?”
“I’m assigned to the Hill,” he said. “We received a report of a disturbance at Walsh’s Folly yesterday.”
“How terrible.” I meant his assignment, not the disturbance.
“A young woman imposed herself on one of the wealthier families.” He leaned against my wall. “Apparently she claimed some sort of connection and had to be ordered off the premises.”
“What cheek.” The butler had reported me, I guessed. Nolan had no cause, and Diana wouldn’t risk it. “I do hope you find her.”
“The lass in question called herself Kittredge.” His mouth stretched and curled. “Do you have a sister I don’t know about?”
“As far as I know, I’m the only female Kittredge in the city.” I peered down at the random notes I had scrawled on my blotter. “How odd. I called on Lady Diana Walsh yesterday, at her invitation. I had tea with her and her delightful family before I departed, and that is all. Perhaps there’s been some terrible misunderstanding.”
“Lady Walsh will verify your visit?” After my nod he demanded, “Did you go there to extort money from the lady?”
“Not at all.” What had that creaky old winge reported, that I was a blackmailer? “I make my money honestly, Inspector. Ask anyone.” I thought of Gert. “Except old witches. They’re not too fond of me.”
“You called on a family of means with whom you have no connection. You are unmarried, and you went alone. You know how that looks.” His blue eyes searched my face. “Who hired you, and why?”
“I am not employed by the Walshes or anyone on the Hill,” I said truthfully. “As for the ton’s rules of behavior, they do not include women who work for their living.” Now it was my turn to attack. “I didn’t think the Yard gave credence to servants’ gossip. So how does it work, Inspector? Do you run about chasing down every tittle-tattle you hear, or only the really juicy ones?”
Two flags of color rosied the jut of his cheekbones, giving him an unexpectedly boyish look. “Why don’t you tell me the real reason you called on the lady?”
“If you don’t believe what I’ve told you, ask her,” I suggested, feeling a little pang in my heart. He’d been a lovely boy, and he was a fetching man, but he was only a few steps above a beater. “I’m sure they’d pass her a note from you, as long as it’s got a Yard seal and has been sprayed for nits. Not like you’re a nobber, right?”
Doyle shook his head. “You shame your mother with that mouth, Kit.”
“And you’ve covered the Doyle name with glory?” I leaned forward. “What would my dear old uncle Arthur, rest his spirit, think of his grandson, Tommy the copper?”
I’d hope that would provoke him enough to send him on his way. Instead, he grinned. “Grandda would have loved seeing me earn my shield, you brat, and you know it.”
His grandfather had come from royal blood, the highest of high posh, the truest of the blue, but the old gent had been inordinately fond of Toriana’s vast working classes, especially those who protected the innocent.
“Aye . . . you’re right. He’d have been proud of you, Tommy.” So was I, and in that moment I wished we were two other people. As we were, we’d never have a chance.
He gave me a speculative look. “Why did you leave Middleway for Rumsen? You’ve no people here, Kit.”
“No one there, either.” I wasn’t going to tell him how horrible it had been, living in the house where my parents had died, sick with grief, unable to think. How the vultures had barely waited until Mum and Da were in the pyre before coming for me. “As you see, I’m doing all right.”
“Very well.” He retrieved his longcoat. “After your mother was sent from the queensland to Toriana, my grandfather made her his ward. She enjoyed his unwavering affection, his protection . . . and confided in him her most guarded secrets.”
Old Arthur must have let something slip; he would never have told anyone, not even his own blood. “You needn’t hint, Doyle. I know my mother was a nameless bastard.”
“Is that all you know?” Before I could reply, he said, “You’ve worked on the Hill in the past, so you know what you’re tempting. Walsh will do whatever he must to protect his wife’s reputation. But first, he’ll go excavating.”
I shrugged. “Let him.”
“Walsh belongs to the Tillers,” he continued, referring to the grandest of not-so-secret secret societies for men in Rumsen. “He won’t just dig, Kit. If he can’t find what he wants, he’ll plant it.” He took out a card, wrote something on the back, and handed it to me. “Directions to Mum and Da’s place. I know they’d love you to call.”
“How kind of you to say.” I took it, and after a small hesitation gave him one of my own. “Should you ever find yourself in need of my professional services, my rates are quite reasonable.”
“I think ten years policing have disenchanted me nicely.” But he pocketed the card. “You’ll stay off the Hill, then?”
“I have no plans to return,” I said honestly.
He touched his brim. “Then good day, Miss Kittredge.”
“Inspector.” I bobbed with the same courtesy.
