Page 33 of When We Touch

“Ah, there you are, Newton, my boy!”

As he walked up, patting the nose of his huge black stallion, the two stared at him. He realized with a twinge of humor that, through it all, neither had recognized him. And now, of course, he had shed his own disguise.

Mireau was losing his mustache and muttonchops. Maggie was still hidden behind the darkness of the black veil.

“Sir James . . . ?” Mireau said carefully.

Maggie elbowed him fiercely in the ribs. “We must be going—Ben.”

“Oh, please, Maggie. Must you insult my intelligence so?” Jamie demanded.

She swept the veil back, defiant. “Are you going to send Mireau on home and give me another lecture?” she asked impatiently.

“Actually, yes. In fact, there’s a carriage.”

“Mireau, don’t you move!” Maggie said.

“Mireau, the cab is just there . . . it won’t hover forever.”

Mireau groaned softly.

“Oh, good heavens, go, then!” Maggie said.

“He saved our lives tonight!” Mireau reminded her softly.

She had the very good grace to flush furiously. She looked down. “Yes, yes, you did,” she admitted. “Thank you.”

There was even a touch of humility to her voice.

“I think I’ll employ that cab,” Mireau said, walking away.

Maggie’s eyes rose, and locked on Jamie’s. They both seemed to wait. Though neither really watched Mireau leave, they didn’t speak until he was in the cab.

Now and then, a conveyance passed them by. A straggling walker skirted them once or twice.

At last she said ruefully, “Yours was a rather good disguise.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you use it frequently?”

“No.”

“You just happened to be there tonight?” she queried.

He shook his head.

She looked away. “So, you are spying on me all the time, and you did know that I was going.”

“Yes, I knew you were going.”

She looked away. “Well, naturally, on this occasion, I have to be grateful.”

“What you have to be is . . .”

“Proper?” she inquired, looking at him again. “I’m afraid it’s a little late.”

“Whatever makes you do such things?” he asked.