Page 93 of Ghost in the Garden
Solomon walked forward and opened the front door. Flynn backed out of it, still grasping Ida by her arm. She went willingly, almost trustingly now, no doubt because Angela had promised it was temporary.
Solomon took Constance by the hand, urging her to the front door, putting himself between her and Lambert’s men. Angela’s men.
Angela’s voice stayed her. “You’ve made your choice, then?”
“So have you.” Constance walked out of the house, every hair on the back of her neck standing up in dread. They left utter silence behind them.
*
It was along two hours later before they had each made their statements to the police. They emerged slightly numb, though Solomon was aware of a certain satisfaction. The end of their first case.
But as the hackney rattled across cobbles, he was aware Constance did not appear to share his feelings. She was quiet, distracted, gazing out of each window in turn, shifting restlessly on the bench beside him.
“What is it?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t feel…finished. We’ve always known before—the murderer is revealed, we emerge safely from the fire in the nick of time, and the mystery is over.”
He raised his brows. “You are complaining about the lack of fire? We found the murderer, though to be honest, right up until I saw Mrs. Feathers with the axe, my money was on Angela.”
“So was mine.” She focused her gaze on his face. “Do you think she did it too? Were they in league?”
It was a thought that had crossed his mind more than once. “Ida never told you they were, though she seems to have admitted everything else to you, despite her denials to the police. Besides, why would Ida need to steal the wine if they were allies? Together, they could have found a simpler way to entice him into the cellar. Duggin certainly wasn’t in on it. I doubt Angela was, though she may have guessed. After all, she helped Ida get rid of Gregg’s body.”
Constance moved her hip, her skirts brushing against him. “Then why do I feel it isn’t over?”
“Because this mystery has never been entirely about ghosts, or even Gregg’s murder. There’s the negligence that led to the collapse of the tenement. Angela now owns both buildings in St. Giles and many others elsewhere. Perhaps she will be a better landlord.”
“And perhaps she won’t.”
“I thought you liked her.”
“I did. Part of me still does. I understand her, or think I do, but…but she is not a good woman, Solomon.”
He groped toward understanding and found something astonishing. “She is not like you, Constance. She was never like you.”
“There are parallels.”
He reached out and covered the hand in her lap. “No,” he said gently. “There are not.”
“You don’t know, Sol,” she said, a curious desperation in her voice. Her hand twisted and clung to his. “You don’t know the things I’ve done.”
“Then you can tell me one day, if you like. Or not. Our pasts change nothing between us now.”
Her dubious glance made him scowl.
“I am not ashamed of you, Constance Silver,” he said roughly. “Did you really think I was? I thought we accepted each other.”
“Acceptance,” she said. “That is what Angela’s looking for. I wanted it too. Oh, not from Society—I am realistic enough to know I will never have that. But from certain people.”
“Me?”
She nodded and met his gaze with defiance. “I never apologize for being a whore. Do you close your eyes to what I am?”
“You cannot be labeled, Constance. I won’t try.” Frustration shook him, for yet again they were in the wrong place and the wrong time to say what he needed to. He tightened his fingers around hers, let his thumb caress her palm, heard the catch of her breath. “Come with me to the Swans’ charity ball.”
She blinked once, then broke into a peal of genuine laughter that was both infectious and arousing. “Can you imagine me hobnobbing with the philanthropic righteous? The wealthy Christian ladies and the respectable gentlemen who secretly frequent my establishment? I’ve never met Lady Swan—or her husband, come to that—but I would most certainly not do that to her.”
“And yet you are one of the major contributors to her charity. I think you’ll find you are invited already. Brazen it out, Constance. She has invited you to do so. I shall escort you if you’ll let me, and dance with you. So will Dragan Tizsa and Lord James.”
