Page 8 of Mrs. Holloway's Christmas Pudding

I pushed aside my surprise to think this through. “She cannot be a young woman.” The Whitakers, if I were to judge from what little I’d glimpsed of them, were in their late fifties or early sixties.

“She is thirty-two. The Whitakers have been married for thirty years.”

“Then it must be Mrs. Whitaker who cannot have children,” I concluded. Pity touched me.

Daniel shrugged. “Perhaps Whitaker suffered from some illness or accident between his dalliance and his marriage. According to Miss McCafferty, she learned only a few years ago that her father was alive. Whitaker heard her mother had died, and that she’d borne a child at the relevant time. Whitaker had a private inquiry agent locate her, and also determine that she was indeed his daughter. He’s been visiting her since then, giving her funds and getting to know her. Miss McCafferty says Mr. Whitaker is a pleasant gentleman, and she is happy he found her. She is an agreeable young woman herself.”

I was back to my twinge of disquiet, which I did not understand. “I am pleased you found her so,” I said, a bit stiffly.

Daniel’s brows creased. “I never spoke to the lady.”

“Oh.” I gazed at him in confusion. “Then how do you know all this?”

“I sent Errol to call on her.” Daniel grinned. “Mr. Fielding, the humble vicar, petitioning for one of his many charities. He ingratiated himself into Miss McCafferty’s sitting room, and she told him everything.”

“Oh.” The syllable escaped my mouth again.

It made perfect sense that Daniel would bid Mr. Fielding, his scoundrel foster brother, to undertake the task. Mr. Fielding truly was a vicar—he had a living in Shadwell and had recently been made an assistant bishop to his parish. A vicar would seem harmless and be welcomed in to chat with the lady of the house.

“Are you well, Kat?” Daniel peered at me in puzzlement.

“Of course. I didn’t understand that Mr. Fielding had obtained the information, not you. That is all.”

Daniel studied me a while longer, then his face cleared, and his eyes began to twinkle. “Kat Holloway, were you afraid I would succumb to the lady’s charms?”

I straightened my spine, indignant. “Of course not.”

“I’d be pleased if you were.” Daniel shoved aside his tea and reached across the table to clasp my hands. “Tell me you were worried I’d look elsewhere, my Kat. It would mean you care where my yearnings lay.”

I slid free of his grip. “Do not be ridiculous. If you had visited with Miss McCafferty, it would only be to ascertain whether she had a motive to murder Mr. Whitaker. Nothing more. I know this.”

“I prefer your worry. A worry quite unfounded, I will add.” Daniel reached for my hands again, this time not letting me pull away. “I have eyes for no other lady than your good self, my dear Kat. That is the truth, and that will never change.”

My voice softened, in spite of myself. “How can you say never? You do not know how long we will be friends, or when our lives will take us apart. None of us can tell what the future will bring.”

So many things could happen to Daniel as he drove about the city or hunted sinister criminals for Mr. Monaghan. So might they happen to Grace, or James, or Joanna and Sam and their family. We never knew how long we had with anyone.

I ended up clinging to Daniel’s hands, and his amusement changed to concern.

“We take it one day at a time, my love,” he said in soothing tones. “Treasure what we have while we have it.”

“I do treasure it.” I met his gaze, my eyes stinging. “Each and every time I am with you.”

Daniel rose and came to me without releasing me. He lifted me from the chair and slid his arms around me. “What you say now pleases me even more.”

The kitchen went quiet as we created another moment to cherish in lonely nights to come.

Daniel’s kisses always left me breathless. When he finally eased from me, brushing my lips with his thumb, I had to sit down rather suddenly.

“Eat your tart,” I said, the words faint. “I must rid myself of all these blasted plums.”

Daniel’s laughter rang out. The lower floor was empty, so I did not worry about anyone overhearing.

“The trials and tribulations of a put-upon cook.” Daniel continued to chuckle as he resumed his seat and lifted his fork. “Do tell me what you discovered from the Whitaker’s neighbor’s cook.”

My voice grew strong again as I recounted Mrs. Cullen’s tale, checking the notes I’d made tonight to be certain I told him all.

“Hmm,” Daniel said when I finished. “We have a nephew who needs his uncle’s funds, a wife who apparently dotes on her husband, and a daughter happy she’s found her father. The nephew is the most likely candidate, but would he have a chance to slip something into his uncle’s sherry without being noticed?”

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