Garden of Lies(5)

“Try me.”

She tensed at the whisper of command in his tone.

“I really do not want to get into an extended argument, sir—especially in light of the fact that I hope to return to this position in the near future.”

“You have already made it clear that you expect me to wait upon your convenience.”

She waved one black-gloved hand to indicate the jumble of antiquities that cluttered the library. “These artifacts have been sitting here for years. Surely they can wait a bit longer to be cataloged.”

“How much longer?” he asked a little too evenly.

She cleared her throat. “Well, as to that, I’m afraid I cannot be specific, at least not yet. Perhaps in a few days I will have some notion of how long my other assignment will last.”

“I have no intention of arguing with you, Mrs. Kern, but I would like to know the identity of the client you feel is more important than me.” He broke off, looking uncharacteristically irritated. “I meant to say, what sort of secretarial work do you feel is more critical than cataloging my artifacts? Is your new client a banker? The owner of a large business, perhaps? A lawyer or a lady in Polite Society who finds herself in need of your services?”

“A few days ago I was summoned to the house of a woman named Anne Clifton. Anne worked for me for two years. She became more than an employee. I considered her a friend. We had some things in common.”

“I notice you are speaking in the past tense.”

“Anne was found dead in her study. I sent for the police but the detective who was kind enough to visit the scene declared that in his opinion Anne’s death was from natural causes. He thinks her heart failed or that she suffered a stroke.”

Slater did not move. He watched her as though she had just announced that she could fly. Clearly her response was not the answer he had expected but he recovered with remarkable speed.

“I’m sorry to hear of Miss Clifton’s death,” he said. He paused, eyes narrowing faintly. “What made you summon the police?”

“I believe Anne may have been murdered.”

Slater looked at her, saying nothing for a time. Eventually he removed his spectacles and began to polish them with a pristine white handkerchief.

“Huh,” he said.

Ursula debated another moment. The truth of the matter was that she wanted very much to discuss her plan with someone who would not only understand, but possibly provide some useful advice—someone who could keep a confidence. Her intuition told her that Slater Roxton was good at keeping secrets. Furthermore, in the past few days it had become blazingly clear that he possessed an extremely logical mind. Some would say he took that particular trait to the extreme.

“What I am about to tell you must be held in strictest confidence, do you understand?” she said.

His dark brows came together in a forbidding line. She knew she had offended him.

“Rest assured I am quite capable of keeping my mouth shut, Mrs. Kern.”

Each word was coated in a thin layer of ice.

She adjusted her gloves and then clasped her hands firmly together in her lap. She took an additional moment to collect her thoughts. She had not told anyone else, not even her assistant, Matty, what she intended to do.

“I have reason to suspect that Anne Clifton was murdered,” she repeated. “I intend to take her place in the household of her client to see if I can find some clues that will point to the killer.”

For the first time since she had made his acquaintance, Slater appeared to be caught off guard. For a few seconds he stared at her, clearly stunned.

“What?” he said finally.

“You heard me, sir. The police do not see fit to investigate Anne’s death. As there is no one else available, I intend to take on the task.”

Slater finally managed to pull himself together.

“That’s sheer madness,” he said very quietly.

So much for hoping that he would understand. She got to her feet and reached up to pull the black netting down from the brim of her little velvet hat. She started toward the door.

“I would remind you of your promise to keep my secret,” she said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I really must be going. I will send word as soon as I have resolved the situation regarding Anne’s death. Perhaps you will consider hiring me again to assist you.”

“Stop right there, Mrs. Kern. Do not take another step until I have worked my way through this . . . this tangled knot of chaos that you have just tossed at my feet.”

She paused, one hand on the doorknob, and turned around to confront him. “Tangled knot of chaos? A foreign expression, perhaps?”

“I’m sure you know full well what I meant.”

“There is nothing to be worked through. The only reason I confided my intentions to you was that I hoped that you might be able to offer some advice or assistance. Yours is an eminently rational, logical mind, sir. But I see now that it was foolish of me to expect any understanding of my plan, let alone some assistance.”

“Primarily because what you intend is not a rational, logical plan,” he shot back. “It bears no resemblance to a coherent strategy.”

“Nonsense, I have given the problem a great deal of thought.”

“I don’t think so. If you had, you would realize that what you are proposing is a reckless, possibly dangerous, and, no doubt, utterly futile, endeavor.”