Garden of Lies(89)

“Even if one must pay for the positive publicity?” Ursula asked.

Slater put on his eyeglasses. “So long as I get my money’s worth, I have no complaints.”

Lilly put her cup and saucer down on the table. “You must excuse me. I am going shopping. News of the Fulbrook murder is spreading rapidly and I suddenly find myself in great demand because of my connection to the Kern Secretarial Agency. Everyone is aware that one of their secretaries was a victim of the American assassin. Invitations have been pouring in all morning. At this rate, my calendar will be completely full for the next month or so.”

She whisked through the doorway. Ursula waited until she was gone and then she looked at Slater.

“I can scarcely believe that it’s finished,” she said. “Everyone is talking about Fulbrook’s murder but all I ever cared about was Anne’s death.”

“I know.” Slater watched her across the expanse of the big desk. “It’s possible that Cobb will evade the hangman’s noose and go home to New York. But even if that is the case, he will not be able to escape the stain on his reputation. He has been labeled a murderer in the press on both sides of the Atlantic. He will never be free of the repercussions. Will that be enough for you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I wanted answers and you helped me obtain them. If the judge and jury fail, I am certainly not going to allow you to assume the responsibility of meting out justice. There has been too much darkness. It is time for a bit of sunlight.”

“Agreed.” Slater looked toward the window. “As it happens, the sun is shining at this moment. Would you care to walk out with me?”

She smiled and got to her feet. “I would be delighted to go walking in the sunlight with you, Slater. I’ll run upstairs and get my bonnet.” She paused, gathering her nerve. “When we return, I really must pack and move back to my own house.”

He watched her go toward the door. “There is no need for you to rush back to your home. You are welcome to stay here for a few more days—or longer. It’s about time we got back to work cataloging my collection. This investigation business has created a serious delay.”

She froze. After what they had just been through, his chief concern was the cataloging of his artifacts?

“I will be happy to assist you in the work,” she said grimly, “but I can do that just as well while living in my own house.”

He studied the collection of relics. “This house will feel . . . empty when you are not here.”

“We both know that I can’t stay here indefinitely as your houseguest,” she said. “I must go home. The sooner, the better, I think.”

He looked stricken. She told herself she must be strong for both of them.

“I’ll just be a moment,” she said. She went to the doorway.

“Ursula?”

A giddy sense of hope made her pause in the doorway. She turned quickly.

“Yes, Slater?” She tried to inject encouragement into her voice.

He came out from behind his desk. “It occurs to me that, from a certain perspective, there is one person who has come out of this tangle in remarkably good condition.”

Her heart sank. “You refer to Mr. Otford?”

“I am thinking of Lady Fulbrook.”

“Oh, I see what you mean.”

“She has it all now, doesn’t she?” Slater folded his arms and lounged back against the desk. “The Fulbrook money, her freedom and a conservatory crammed with the ambrosia plant. If she were of a mind to do so, she could go into the drug business, herself.”

“Perhaps,” Ursula said, “but I doubt that she will do that. She is a very wealthy woman now. I am glad for her sake that she is free of that dreadful marriage but she did not get what she wanted most. She truly loved Cobb, you see. It’s all there in her letter poems. She dreamed of running off to New York with him. That dream has now been shattered.”

“Perhaps not,” Slater said. “As I’ve said, I am sure Cobb will have an excellent lawyer. He commands wealth and power back in New York. He may yet be able to make Lady Fulbrook’s dreams come true.”

“But it would never be the same as it was in her fantasies. She knows the truth about him now.”

He nodded. “Fantasies are gossamer things, are they not? Reality invariably crushes them.”

Ursula turned swiftly to face him, anger flashing through her. She would not let him crush her fantasies, she vowed. She would fight to preserve them.

“Goodness,” she said. “Will you just look at the time? I don’t believe I have time to walk out with you, after all, Mr. Roxton. I must go upstairs and pack.”

Slater unfolded his arms and straightened abruptly. “But you agreed . . .”

She gave him a steely smile. “You appear bewildered, perplexed, perhaps even a trifle disoriented. Why don’t you go downstairs and walk your labyrinth. All the answers you seek are there, are they not? Don’t bother seeing me to the door. I’ll ask Webster to have the carriage brought around. I’ll be out of your way within the hour.”

She grasped fistfuls of her skirts and whipped out into the hall. Very deliberately she closed the door on a stunned Slater.

A woman could only do so much. Slater was on his own now. This was about emotions, not logic. He knew where to find her when he finally came to his senses.