Free Quicksilver by Amanda Quick

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 said. She removed her bonnet and stepped into the hall. “It is his own fault. He did not send word that he intended to call this afternoon.”
    “I invited him to wait in the parlor and offered tea, but he declined,” Mrs. Crofton said. “He and his carriage have been standing in the street for nearly forty-five minutes.”
    “I understand, Mrs. Crofton.” Virginia put some steel into her words. “You may serve tea to him now. We will be in my study.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Crofton took Owen’s hat and gloves with a solicitous air. “I have some tarts fresh out of the oven that will go nicely with the tea.”
    Owen smiled at her. “That sounds wonderful, Mrs. Crofton. I haven’t eaten in hours.”
    Mrs. Crofton beamed and sailed away in the direction of the kitchen.
    Owen followed Virginia down the hall. This was only his second time on the premises, but she was acutely aware that he seemed very much at ease in her house now, as if he were in the home of a longtime friend.
Or the home of his lover.
Where in blazes had that thought come from? She had obviously spent far too much time discussing treatments for female hysteria with Charlotte today.
    “Your housekeeper is an interesting woman,” Owen said. He sounded amused.
    “I’m afraid Mrs. Crofton does not really approve of me,” Virginia confided as she led the way into the study. “She has recently come down in the world, you see. Her previous employer was a wealthy woman who moved in exclusive circles. Sadly, the lady was somewhat absentminded. She died owing her staff several quarters’ worth of back wages.”
    “Let me hazard a guess. The heirs saw no reason to pay the back wages.”
    “No. Poor Mrs. Crofton found herself without funds and without a post. She was obliged to accept the first position that came along. I’m afraid the post was in the household of a woman who not only conducts business but often does so at night.”
    “You.”
    “Indeed.” Virginia sat down behind her desk.
    Owen lowered himself into one of the reading chairs with a fluid, masculine grace that struck Virginia as decidedly sensual. She realized that he had brought an aura of energy into the room that stirred her senses.
    “Have you considered letting Mrs. Crofton go and perhaps replacing her with an employee who might not be so concerned with her own social status?” he asked.
    She took a grip on her overheated imagination and forced herself to pay attention to the conversation.
    “That would be quite impossible,” she explained. “Those in service are