A Rip Through Time(26)

His face hardens. “Do not take me for a fool, Catriona, and do not forget who took you to Isla. I believed you could be redeemed, and you have done nothing but prove I am a very poor judge of character.”

Isla? Is that Mrs. Wallace’s first name? No, Gray said his sister hired me. That must be Isla.

Wait, redeemed?

Right. Gray did say something about Catriona’s felonious past.

McCreadie continues, “I cannot count how many times I have bit my tongue against telling Isla the rest of your story. The parts I misguidedly decided were not your fault. I know better now. There was no Fagin in your life, Catriona. It is all you. The only reason you are still employed is because Isla is too good-hearted—nay, too stubborn—to accept defeat. And Duncan is too caught up in his work to see you for what you are. But I see you, and I will not allow this.”

“Allow what?”

His eyes narrow. “I warned you not to play me for a fool, Catriona. You owe me the respect of honesty. You did not take a sudden interest in science. You took a sudden interest in the man behind the science.”

I stare up at him. Then it hits. “You think I’m trying to seduce Dr. Gray?”

“I think you liked your stay in their guest room. I think it made that scheming mind of yours do what it does best.”

“Scheme?”

“Do not mock me, Catriona. You tread on very dangerous ground here. If I told Isla the rest of your story—and if Mrs. Wallace stopped shielding her from the worst of your misdeeds—you would be out on your arse. You have set your cap on Duncan. You are a pretty girl from a decent family, and Duncan is a very busy man with no time to look for a wife. You see an opening.”

A doctor marrying his housemaid? I want to say someone else has been reading romance novels, but then I realize it might not be so implausible. Gray isn’t a lord or an earl and, from what McCreadie is implying, Catriona didn’t grow up in tenement housing. She’s a girl from a good family who made poor choices, one who might be looking to climb back up to her old status.

“It will do you no good,” McCreadie continues. “That’s what I pulled you aside to say. I could warn that I am watching you and you’d best not try anything, but I needn’t bother. We both know how he is.”

“How he is?”

McCreadie eases back, a little of his anger dissipating. “An illustrative example, Catriona, in case you have failed to notice these things on your own. Last month, we were in a public house, and Duncan got into a brawl.”

“Dr. Gray?” There’s honest incredulity in my voice.

“He did not start it, which I should say makes the man happier than is decent. He does love the excuse for a good bout of fisticuffs. In this case, he had it, having been struck with a knife.”

“What?”

McCreadie waves off my concern. “He stitched himself up later. Again, not the point, which is that his blood cast a pattern on the wall. He began sketching it and comparing it with the wound and the angle of the blow. When a young lady evidenced great interest in what he was doing, he quite happily explained it to her, never once realizing that she was not interested at all in the blood pattern and was rather more interested in his—” He coughs. “In his ability to pay for her services.”

“Ah, she was a sex worker.”

“A what?”

“Lady of negotiable affections?”

He gives a short laugh. “I suppose so. Though I have the feeling she would have negotiated a very low price for those affections. They always do for Duncan. Yet the point is that he was oblivious. He is always oblivious to attention from the fair sex.”

“Because he prefers men?”

McCreadie’s eyes round, and he sputters incomprehensibly before saying, “No, he likes women. But the women he likes are not pretty shopgirls or fetching pie sellers or winsome housemaids, and they are certainly not ‘ladies of negotiable affections,’ as you put it. He will never notice your interest because he will not share it, and if you force him to notice it, he will find you alternate employment within the week. You have chosen your target poorly, Catriona.”

“Perhaps you mistake my interest, sir.”

He snorts. “So you’re actually interested in the science of dead bodies?”

“As you say, I come from a good family. While I have thus far concealed it, I do possess an education. And a brain, though you obviously do not think it.”

“Oh, I never doubted that, Catriona.”

“Yes, I see an opening here. An employment opening. Dr. Gray is in need of an assistant, and as I am not squeamish, I see no reason why I should not angle for the position. Yes, that might require exaggerating my interest in the subject. It is, however, vastly more interesting than scrubbing water closet pots.”

He eyes me, and I can tell I have made a valid argument. I only hope Catriona thinks so when she returns.

“All right,” McCreadie says slowly. “I will not interfere with your pursuit of the position. If your pursuit turns elsewhere, though…”

“It will not,” I say with a conviction that seems to settle his mind.

He leads me back around the corner to where Gray is scouring the area. Spotting us, Gray strides over, pies in hand.

“What the devil were you doing back there?” he asks.