Free Quicksilver by Amanda Quick

him, a thrill of excitement flared deep inside her. It had been this way when he had walked into her study yesterday. She responded to his presence in a way that was new and intoxicating to her senses. It was also somewhat disorienting. She had never experienced this reaction around any other man.
    She paused at the bottom of her front steps, aware of a pleasant sensation that she had not experienced for a very long time. It took her a heartbeat or two to recognize the feeling. In spite of recent events, she felt happy, a little exhilarated.
    She smiled. “Mr. Sweetwater. I wasn’t expecting you.”
    “I have been waiting for you,” he said coldly. “Your housekeeper told me that you had gone to visit a friend.”
    The sparkling excitement inside her was instantly transformed into irritation. The one great, extremely positive aspect of spinsterhood, she thought, was that a woman was not obliged to answer to any man.
    “I am returning from paying a call on a very good friend,” she said crisply. “Not that it is any of your affair, sir.”
    “Under the circumstance, I had hoped that you would have the good sense to exercise some caution when it comes to your daily schedule. I told you that I have people watching your house at night, but I did not think it necessary during the day.”
    She raised her chin. “What did you expect, sir? That I would lock myself in the house and sit by the fire until you concluded your investigation? I’m afraid that will not be possible. I have a living to make.”
    “I comprehend that fact. But I do not like the idea of you going out, unescorted, while there is a killer running around who preys on women with your talent.”
    “I am not an idiot, Mr. Sweetwater. This afternoon I walked along crowded streets and spent some time in the company of my friend in a shop. I was never alone at any time. I did not stroll down dark alleys or take shortcuts through empty parks. I even managed to refrain from accepting rides in carriages with strangers. Not that any strangers offered me a ride.”
    He contemplated her with faintly narrowed eyes. “You are correct, of course. I have no right to tell you how to go about your daily life.”
    “Is that an apology?”
    “No, an observation. There is no point in my apologizing, because I will very likely lecture you again on the same subject in the near future. You can probably place a wager on it.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I’m trying to keep you safe and catch a killer, damn it. And because between the two of us, I am the one who has had some experience in dealing with the monsters.”
    “I do realize that your intentions are honorable, sir,” she said, gentling her voice a little. “The problem we have is that you are obviously accustomed to issuing orders, and I am not at all accustomed to taking them.”
    “I can see that.”
    “I’m certain we shall muddle through. Now, then, why did you come here to see me today? Have you some news?”
    For a moment she thought he was going to ignite the embers of their disagreement into a full-blown quarrel. But evidently concluding that he did not have logic on his side, he abandoned the field. She suspected the retreat was only temporary.
    “Later tonight I would like you to accompany me on a visit to the house of one of the glass-readers who was murdered, Mrs. Ratford,” he said. “I noticed at least two mirrors on the premises when I went inside. Perhaps you will be able to perceive something helpful in one of them.”
    Anticipation ghosted through her. “Yes, of course.” She went up the steps to the front door. “There is no reason to stand around out here. Won’t you come in? I’m sure Mrs. Crofton will want to serve tea. I fear that if I do not invite a few more guests into the house, she will grow bored and quit.”
    Mrs. Crofton opened the door. She gave Virginia a disapproving look.
    “Mr. Sweetwater has been waiting for you, ma’am.”
    “Yes, I know, Mrs. Crofton,” Virginia