Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(120)

“What about his position at the Yard?” she asked.

Alastair shook his head. “I doubt he’ll be welcomed back. Fisher would want him, Ramsey as well, but his affiliation with Miss Hallcox has tainted him in some eyes.”

“Then what will he do if he isn’t a cop?”

“Private consulting, perhaps. He has the skills. It just depends on whether he is willing to give up his dream and move in a new direction.”

The irony wasn’t lost on her. “You know that well, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I would have had a fine house, a wife, a growing practice if I’d remained with Dr. Hanson. Now I have a nice house, a nascent practice and I am my own man, free to come and go as I choose.”



“Any regrets?”

“Certainly. I regret losing Evelyn. However, recently she and I have been meeting again. We’ve never gotten to the heart of the matter between us, but I suspect that will come eventually.”

“Is there any chance…?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “We must clear the air between us first.”

“That is encouraging news, Alastair,” she said, though part of her felt a pang of loss. If he and his former fiancée could find their way forward, it was for the best, wasn’t it?

Yes and no. In stray moments she’d thought of what it would be like to stay in London with him or Keats. It would stomp on all the rules, but would that matter if she was happy?

“Jacynda?” he asked gently.

“Hmm?” She looked up at him. “I was thinking what it might have been like.”

“With me…or with Keats?”

Cynda spread her hands. “That was the problem. I care for you both. I choose one, I hurt the other.”

The doctor nodded and rose. “I’ll go check on him. No doubt he’s asleep, but I still worry. He’s had a tremendous shock.”

“He’s talking about going out to try to find Fiona. Please, don’t let him go alone.”

“I won’t.”

“Thanks. I’d better get back to the hotel. Morrisey promised he’d stay put, but he can be willful.”

She heard a chuckle as Alastair ascended the stairs. “Pot calling the kettle black, I’d say.”

~??~??~??~



In some ways it was very devious, but it paid to be cautious. Just because someone named Morrisey was at Adelaide’s doorstep asking to see Mr. Livingston, didn’t mean the visitor was the real item. The Theo he knew avoided time travel at all costs.



“Are you ready?” Adelaide asked. Defoe tapped a kiss on her cheek, inhaling the soft scent of her perfume.

“I am,” he said, fading from view.

He watched as his lover opened the door to the drawing room, taking his place next to her, unseen. If this were an enemy, he would be in for one hell of a surprise.

“Mr. Morrisey?” she asked politely.

The man bowed effortlessly. No one from 2058 would be able to do that…except Theo. Years of dojo training made the gesture as automatic for him as breathing.

“Good evening, madam,” the man replied. “I apologize for my abrupt arrival.”

Adelaide maintained a discreet distance. “My butler said you are trying to locate Mr. Livingston. Is that correct?”

“Yes, madam. He is a business associate of mine, and I have some information I need to impart to him of a most urgent nature.”

Complex speech. Theo always used more words than were needed, but so did the Victorians. Defoe moved closer.

“I am sorry, Mr. Morrisey. I have not seen him for over a week.”

“Oh.” The man said, looking genuinely disappointed. “Do you have any notion of where he is staying?”

Adelaide delivered a demure shake of the head.

“Then I apologize for impinging on your time, madam.” Another bow and the fellow left the house as quickly as possible.

Defoe shifted into view right before he exited the front door. Once on the street, he watched how the man moved. It was Theo: he had a certain rhythm to his step. Defoe hurried to catch up with him.

“Damn,” his friend muttered. “Where are you, Harter?”

“Here,” he said, en mirage as Livingston.

Morrisey was in a defensive posture in a heartbeat. Once he realized how that appeared, he straightened himself, glancing around the street, chagrined. Beneath the calm exterior, Defoe knew his friend was steaming.



“No wonder people shoot you,” Theo remarked.

Defoe laughed. “It’s good to see you again. Come along, let’s go back inside.”

“If you haven’t heard, Keats is free.”

Defoe halted mid-step and swiveled toward him. “I’ll be damned. She actually pulled it off.”

“Of course she did,” Morrisey replied, sounding annoyed.

“So what in the hell are you doing here?” Defoe asked.

“TPB has issued a Restricted Force Warrant for me.”

Defoe laughed. “Welcome to the criminal classes, Theo. I knew I’d corrupt you eventually.” He waved him forward. “Come on, I’ll re-introduce you to Adelaide. You need to know what’s going on here.”