Page 126 of The English Wife

No one paid any attention to her. Mrs. Gerritt shrugged philosophically and retreated to her kitchen.

“Send … that … to the kitchen and then come back to the library,” said Janie’s mother, and turned on her heel. “Anne?”

Burke grabbed Janie’s sleeve. “Listen to me. Lacey lied. He was here in New York on the first. I found the ship’s manifest. For the St. Paul. He wasn’t on it. He was on the Brittanic.”

His words were slurred, disjointed. Was that a symptom of hypothermia? Janie didn’t know. She didn’t particularly want to find out. Her fingers moved busily from button to button, releasing him from the icy prison of his coat. “You need dry clothes. Did you bring a bag?”

“Did you hear me?” Burke’s teeth were chattering so hard he could hardly get the words out. His coat fell in a sodden heap on the floor, revealing a thinner wool coat beneath. “Lacey lied. He was here in New York on the night of the ball. The man is dangerous. You didn’t see the way he looked at you in that courtroom.”

“I was there,” said Janie, looking at him critically. He seemed to be breathing easier with his ice-encrusted coat and scarf off, but his frame was still racked with shudders and there was a purple tinge to his lips she didn’t like. “You need to get warm. It’s too cold in the hall. You’ll come down with pneumonia.”

“That’s not all.” Burke staggered and caught himself against the back of a chair. “He’s in debt. Lots of debt. Needs Annabelle Lacey’s money.”

Janie caught Burke’s arm, bracing him with her body. “Come into the parlor. There’s a fire there.” And also Mr. Lacey. But they could deal with that when they came to it. “You don’t have a bag, do you?”

Mr. Burke tried to grin, but his facial muscles didn’t seem to want to work properly. “Didn’t think that far ahead. When I heard, I ran.”

“Never mind. I’m sure we can find something of Bay’s.” And never mind that her mother would consider that heresy. “How did you learn about Mr. Lacey?”

“I have friends in low places.” Burke stumbled as they walked into the passage, but Janie managed to right them. “Sorry. Not so steady. Lacey bribed the port officer to falsify the date of his arrival.”

“He’s here, you know,” said Janie.

“’ know,” said Burke. “Didn’t want to leave you here—alone—with him.”

“So you came rushing through the ice?” Janie didn’t know whether to be touched or shake him for being so foolish. “Slaying a dragon would have been easier. And warmer.”

Burke winced as he flexed a hand. “Foolish. When I couldn’t get you on the ’phone … didn’t think. I thought I could get a cab at the station.”

“Don’t think I don’t appreciate it,” said Janie politely, pushing down an entirely inappropriate giddiness. She drew her wrap more snugly around her shoulders. “All acts of knight errantry are much appreciated. Even if unnecessary. If anyone kills anyone, it won’t be Giles Lacey. It will be my mother.”

“With me the target?” Burke’s blue lips parted in something that was almost a grin.

“You’ll have to get in line,” said Janie. “If Mr. Lacey tells us one more time that Illyria is an inferior copy of Lacey Abbey, my mother may take a poker to him.”

She slowed and stopped as she saw the way Burke was looking at her. He took a deep breath, speaking with an effort. “I’d meant to take you away with me. Back to Cold Spring, if not to town. But now—I’ve made a proper mess of this rescue, haven’t I?”

She might have made light of it, but something in Burke’s face blunted easy banter. He had, realized Janie, with a constriction in her chest, been genuinely afraid for her. It must be very lowering to come charging to the rescue only to be thwarted by the elements.

Janie chose her words carefully. “If Mr. Lacey is a villain, I believe he is one of impulse. He lost his temper and used the weapons that were to hand.” A single blow, the coroner had said. She tilted her head to look at Burke. “Perhaps your being here will be enough to blunt that impulse.”

“Is this an attempt to salvage my pride?” he demanded hoarsely.

“Yes,” said Janie. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t also true.”

For a moment, she felt his damp head rest against hers. Lifting it, he said, “Shall we beard the dragon?”

Janie stopped him before he could move forward. “Do we tell him we know? Or pretend and wait?”

“I’m used to writing about dark deeds, not living them,” said Burke grimly, and Janie felt heartened because he sounded more like himself. “What do you think?”

Janie bit her lip. “There are four of us—and only one of him.”

“You, Miss Van Duyvil, have the face of a lady and the soul of a bandit,” said Mr. Burke. “All right. Let’s go poke the tiger. You wouldn’t happen to have a weapon handy?”

“Does scorn count?”

“It’s not very useful in hand-to-hand combat.” Burke grinned at her, the effect only slightly marred by the fact that he was still shivering. “Shall we? Your mother can always belt him with the poker if he gets out of hand.”