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By Root 599 0

begin,” Hester replied soberly. “I won’t spend our supply money, I promise.” She did not yet want to tell Margaret that she was planning to see Sir Oliver Rathbone. He had been on the verge of asking Hester to marry him once. He had hesitated, and then not spoken the words. Perhaps he had seen in her face that she was not yet ready to make such a decision, or even that she would never love anyone else with the fierceness or the magic with which she loved Monk. She could not help that, whether Monk ever returned her feeling or not, and at that time she had not known. It was only after that that she had discovered Monk did return her feelings, passionately and profoundly, and he had accepted that to deny his own emotions would be to deny all the best in himself, as well as the most vulnerable.

They were friends, all three of them, in a fashion. Rathbone still felt a deep affection for her. She knew that, and Monk had to be aware of it also. But they were allies in a cause which overrode personal wounds and losses. Rathbone had never turned down a case he believed in, however difficult or against whatever odds, and certainly not because it was brought to him by Monk.

She and Margaret would go to Vere Street and tell Oliver all that they knew. At least it would be a burden shared. Suddenly she knew how good it would feel to see him, to be aware of the warmth of his regard for her, and his trust.

Actually, it was after eleven o’clock before Hester and Margaret were ushered into Rathbone’s office with its beautiful leather inlaid desk and cabinets full of books, and the long windows overlooking the street.

Rathbone came forward toward Hester, smiling broadly. He was not much more than average height. His charm lay in the intelligence in his face, in his wry, delicate humor and the supreme confidence of his bearing. He was a gentleman, and he had the ease of privilege and education.

“Hester, what a pleasure to see you, even if it has to be a problem that brings you here,” he said sincerely. “Who is wrongly accused of what? I imagine it is murder? It usually is, with you.”

“Not yet,” she replied, warmth engulfing her just to hear the gentleness in his voice. She turned to introduce Margaret, and as he turned also she saw a sudden interest spark in his dark eyes, as if already he recognized her, or something in her that he was happy to see. “This is Miss Margaret Ballinger,” she said quickly. “Sir Oliver Rathbone.”

Margaret drew in her breath to reply, a very faint flush in her cheeks.

“We have met already,” Rathbone said before Margaret could speak. “At a ball, I forget where, but we danced. It was just before that miserable business with the architect. It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Ballinger.” The expression in his face suggested that he was speaking honestly, not simply as a matter of good manners.

Margaret took a deep breath, just a trifle shakily. “Thank you for seeing us with no notice at all, Sir Oliver. It is very gracious of you.”

“Hester always brings me the most fascinating problems,” he demurred, inviting them with a gesture to sit down, and when they had done so, taking the seat behind the desk himself. “You said no one has been murdered yet. Should I deduce from that that you expect someone will be?” There was no mockery in his tone; it was light, but perfectly serious.

“Two people have been very badly injured, and more will be,” Hester said a fraction more quickly than she had meant to. She was aware that Rathbone was at least as conscious of Margaret as he was of her. She realized with a yawning hollow inside her how much of his life lay beyond her knowledge. The material facts of it did not matter, it was the wealth of people he knew, the emotions, the laughter and hurt, the dreams that were the man inside.

He was waiting for her to continue.

“Miss Ballinger and I have rented a house in Coldbath Square in which to offer medical treatment to women of the street who are injured or ill,” she said, ignoring the look in his eyes, the strange mixture of tenderness, admiration, and horror. “Lately