Page 30 of Someone to Watch Over Me
“Good morning, Chopper,” Grant murmured, reaching over to pet the broad, furry head. Chopper shrank back disdainfully, her eyes narrowing to slits. She endured the gentle pat with a flinch, and lowered her head to her paws. Grant couldn’t help smiling at the long-suffering feline. “Just like a woman,” he murmured. “You only give a fellow affection when you want something.”
Cannon poured a cup from the meager amount left in the bottom of the vessel. He made a face as he tasted the brew, which was tepid and filled with grounds. “Mrs. Dobson,” he called, leaning his dark head outside the door, “my jug is empty.”
There was a protesting response from down the hall, containing the admonition “…your nerves, sir…”
“My nerves are fine,” he replied, a thread of annoyance working through his tone. “I have a great deal of work, Mrs. Dobson. I require another jug to see me through the morning.” Cannon went to his chair and smiled briefly as he seated himself. The flash of amusement temporarily lightened the dark cast of his face. “May God spare us from women who think they know better.”
“Amen,” Grant muttered in brief affirmation of the prayer.
Cannon leaned back in his chair, his wintry gray eyes narrowing as he surveyed Grant. “You look like hell. Are you ill?”
Such an unusual question from Cannon would be enough to send any of the Runners into a state of alarm. Cannon never took an interest in the personal lives of his men, as long as their jobs were being done. Grant frowned at the magistrate, resenting the personal inquiry.
“I haven’t been sleeping,” he said curtly.
“Trouble with Miss Duvall?”
“Nothing of significance,” he muttered.
“How is her health?” Cannon inquired.
“I believe she’s almost fully recovered. But there’s been no progress on recovering her memory.”
Cannon nodded, reaching out for the book that Grant extended to him. “What’s this?”
“It’s a diary and appointment book. I found it in Miss Duvall’s town house. I believe it might contain the name of whoever tried to kill her.”
As Grant watched him leaf through the small volume, he wondered what Cannon, who had taken what amounted to a vow of celibacy, would think of such sexually explicit material. It would be only natural for the magistrate to exhibit some sign of emotion but there was no telltale color, no tension, no mist of sweat. The man had astonishing mastery over himself.
“Miss Duvall appears to have led a colorful life,” the magistrate remarked blandly. “Why do you assume her assailant is listed in the journal?”
“The attempted murder was a crime of passion,” Grant said matter-of-factly. “Miss Duvall has no history of criminal dealings with anyone, no nefarious associates, no significant debts—she has always been well cared for. Only a long list of lovers, most of whom she was unfaithful to. She kept scrupulous track of them, however…and their particular tastes. It was a business to her, and as you can see, she was damned organized about it. Whenever a better opportunity presented itself, she left her current lover without a backward glance.”
“And you believe one of them became so incensed by her desertion that he tried to kill her?”
“Yes.”
Cannon handed the journal back to him. “You’d best narrow down this list quickly, Morgan. In matters of this sort, one can’t allow a suspect too much time to collect himself or the case is lost.”
Staring at the small book in his hands, Grant passed his thumbs over the smooth leather binding. “What I’d like to do,” he said slowly, “is find a way of letting the public know that Vivien is still alive. Then whoever tried to kill her would know that he had failed.”
“And come after her again,” Cannon murmured. “That would be putting Miss Duvall at great risk.”
“No,” Grant said immediately. “She’s under my protection now—and I’ll be waiting for the bastard when he tries again.”
“Very well. Let’s reveal Miss Duvall to London, then. Have you already decided on a place and time?”
“Not yet.”
“Then allow me to make a suggestion. I have a friend, Lady Lichfield, who is giving a ball this very Saturday evening. Invitations to any event she hosts are greatly sought after, and a detailed account is always published in theTimesafterward. I’ll prevail on her to send you an invitation, and include anyone you choose in her guest list.”
Grant grinned suddenly. “Bring Vivien to Lady Lichfield’s estate?”
“Why not?”
“Vivien isn’t readily accepted by so-called decent society. At least not the female half. She’s slept with quite a few of their husbands.”
“So much the better, if any of her former lovers are attending,” Cannon replied.
