Page 60 of Murder in Blackfriars

“I am not discounting the danger, Daniel. However, I have been in danger all my life, from different sources at different times. Life is never completely safe, and you know this better than most. I have survived thus far, and I will not let Mr. Naismith and his veiled threats drive me from my home.”

I finished with adamance, a bit of tea sloshing from the cup I held. I set it down and snatched a towel from the end of the table to dab up the spill.

Daniel let out a long, heavy breath and buried his face in his hands. He hunched there a few moments while the clock ticked on the wall and my candle sputtered.

When I thought he’d either sit that way for the rest of the night or rise and fling himself out the door, he slid his hands down and rested them limply on the table.

“You are good for me, Kat.”

“Oh?” I lifted my teacup again. “In what way?”

“Because you speak sense when everything inside me is chaos. You pull me back, root me firmly in the earth.”

“I do not sound very exciting,” I said. “I thought gentlemen wanted ladies who enraptured them beyond belief and kept them confused and dancing on a string.”

“Those gentlemen are fools.” Daniel’s eyes began to warm. “Believe me, you are quite exciting enough for any man. I’m never certain what you will do next.” He shook his head. “You are right. I will not let the likes of Naismith drive me and everyone I care about away. We will stay and see this thing through.”

He reached for my hand. I laid mine into his, and he squeezed it tightly.

“Together,” I said, to clarify.

Daniel’s smile became full. “Together.”

“Good.” I sat back in my chair but let him continue to hold my hand. “You look more like your old self again, instead of withdrawing and pushing us all away.”

“I have been doing that, I know. I beg your pardon most humbly. This has all unnerved me.”

“I can imagine.” I gently withdrew from his grip but only so I could rise and fetch the scones Tess had spent the afternoon baking. “You heard about a possible tie to your parentage, then were detained for questioning about Mr. Banks’s murder, and now Mr. Naismith is sticking his oar in—I would be in the throes of apoplexy myself.”

“You have enough troubles of your own, my love.” Daniel took the plate I handed him and eagerly took up a scone. “And you find time to bake exquisite sweets. I will not let Naismith drive me fromthis.”

I sat back down with a thump. “I see. Finding answers and arresting a killer are not as important as enjoying currantscones. Which Tess baked, by the way. I was far too distracted not to ruin them.”

“Thank Tess for me, then.” Daniel consumed a scone in several bites and licked his fingers. “Tell her she has become an excellent baker. But she has had an excellent teacher.”

“I know you are feeling better when you are spouting flattering nonsense.” I reached for the notebook I’d set aside at his knock. “Now, tell me what you and Mr. Fielding found out from Mr. Draper.”

“Mmm.” Daniel brushed off his fingers and took a long swallow of tea. “He is a sordid man, but I expected no less, from what Patterson and Errol said about him. Draper indeed owns several gaming houses in the East End, one of them near Hoxton Square, as Errol indicated. We visited him there last night.”

“Did he remember you?” I asked before I could contain myself. I was less interested in Mr. Draper’s current affairs than the fact he might have shared a home with young Daniel. “From Mrs. Kerr’s, I mean?”

“He recalled Mrs. Kerr and Patterson, acknowledging that he lived with her for a few years. Whether or not I was the same person as little Robbie, he couldn’t say. But he remembered Banks very well. Has seen him off and on over the years. In fact, Banks owed him money.”

“Did he, now?” I quickly scribbled down this information. “How much money?”

“Draper was vague, but I gathered it was quite a sum. Draper was annoyed that Banks had been killed, because now he can’t collect. Banks had no heirs that he knows of.”

“How compassionate of him.” I decided I did not like Mr. Draper. “I hope he leaves Mr. Banks’s landlady be. I’m certainthe only thing of value Mr. Banks had was his medal, and I am not giving that over to Mr. Draper.”

“Nor should you. The debt will have to be taken as a loss,” Daniel said firmly. “I said as much to Draper, who agreed, though he is not happy. Angry even.”

“A good man died,” I said indignantly. “Mr. Draper will have to be content that Mr. Banks didn’t owe him any more than he did.”

“We only assume Banks was a good man,” Daniel pointed out. “Because he braved Crimea and tried to tell me about Mrs. Kerr.Ifhe didn’t mean to say anything more to me besides that.”

I turned back to my notes on Mr. Banks, which I’d tried to make as neat as Sergeant Scott’s. I had columns under his name for the times of his movements on his last day, for what Hannah and I had found in his rooms, and for the information he might have had for Daniel.

I had one column with the labelQueryabove it. Now I wrote in that column:Did Mr. Banks have more to tell Daniel?AndHow much did he owe Mr. Draper?ThenWould Mr. Draper have murdered him because he hadn’t paid?