Tell Me, Pretty Maiden (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #7)

“As to that, I was taking no risk at all,” I said calmly. “I merely wished to be invisible on a city street. Besides, I earned twenty cents for my pains, sweeping a crossing.”


I reached into my pocket and produced the coins. He looked at them and suddenly burst out laughing. “Molly Murphy, what am I going to do with you?”

“Right now you could tell me why you didn’t write all the time you were away,” I said, “and then I suppose you could kiss me.”

“Didn’t write? You knew where I was.”

“Daniel, you said you’d be away for a couple of days over the holiday,” I said angrily. “It turned into a couple of weeks. I was concerned. Besides, I thought you might possibly be missing me.” I pulled away from him. “But since you obviously weren’t, I see little point in standing out here in the snow discussing it. I’m freezing to death in these clothes. I need to get inside.”

I stomped ahead of him to my front door. Daniel followed. I opened the door, then turned to face him. “And another thing, what were you doing at my doorstep at this hour of the night?”

“It’s only ten,” he said, “and I wanted to make sure you were all right as soon as I returned to the city.”

“Well thank you kindly, sir. As you can see, I’m hale and hearty.” I went to shut the door. He put out his hand to block me.

“Are you not going to invite me in, Molly? When I’ve come all this way in the snow?”

“What, and risk compromising my reputation?” I said. “A young woman who lives alone and admits a man to her house late at night risks terrible censure from society.”

At this he laughed again. “Now you sound exactly like Arabella. Since when did you ever care a fig what society thought of you?”

“I might have turned over a new leaf, while you’ve been away,” I said. “I may have need of a respectable suitor someday.”

“Molly, don’t torment me like this,” Daniel said suddenly and pushed his way into the front hall beside me. “You know what I’ve been going through recently.”

“Too busy to write to me whatever it was,” I said. “What happened—did you get invited to such brilliantly fashionable parties with Arabella’s set that you couldn’t turn them down?”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “It’s been a worrying time. My father caught a nasty grippe that we feared would turn into pneumonia. For a while it was touch and go, so I couldn’t leave in such circumstances. I was at his bedside day and night. You know how frail his heart has become.”

At this news of course I felt rather silly and shallow. “Is your father now recovered?” I asked.

“Mercifully yes, thank God. And then the snowstorm stranded me for a few extra days, and my mother was trying to persuade me to stay even longer.”

“Ah, you did finally tell them the truth about your predicament?”

“I told my mother something of it—that I was having a spot of bother with the current commissioner of police.”

“Daniel, you promised you were going to level with them. How can you let your own family go on believing that you’re still flourishing as a captain of police when you’re in such deep trouble?”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “What did you expect me to say to a man with a weak heart—to an ex-policeman who retired with full honors? That his son had been kicked out of the force in disgrace, accused of being in the pay of a gang?”

“No, I suppose in the circumstances . . . ,” I said weakly.

“And as you pointed out yourself, John Partridge is only police commissioner until January. I have to be patient for another month and then who knows. Maybe someone more sympathetic to my cause might be chosen for the job.”

“I’m sure your fortunes will change, Daniel,” I said. “John Partridge is only being stubborn. He already knows you were set up. It would be most unfair to keep you on suspension any longer. You’re one of their best men. They’d be fools if they didn’t reinstate you, with an apology.”

“Let’s hope they are not fools then,” Daniel said. He stood there staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You look damned alluring in that ridiculous outfit, with that smudge on your nose and those wisps of red hair escaping from that cap.” He ran his finger experimentally down my nose and over my lips.

My resolve had never been strong where Daniel Sullivan was concerned and I could feel it melting. “I think you should probably go, Daniel,” I said. “Before we both act imprudently.”

“You’re right. We wouldn’t want to act imprudently,” he said, his eyes challenging mine. “But as I recall you yourself invited me to kiss you not a few moments ago.”

“As long as it just stops with a kiss,” I said. “Our kisses have a habit of progressing to something more, and in our present situation . . .”

“I understand,” Daniel said. “If only things were different. If I had prospects . . .” He let the end of the sentence trail off into silence.