Page 125 of When We Touch

Her hiked a dark brow. “That easily?” he said skeptically. “Maggie, I slammed a door in your face. I cannot believe that you’re just standing there so sweetly.”

She shrugged. “You were right. I need to deal with Arianna on my own.”

He sighed. “Listen, I haven’t been fair to you. I have an appointment in about an hour, but I can take a few minutes to talk to her. It’s just I know that, if you two give it a chance, you’ll get along fine.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it? In a few months she’ll reach her majority . . . and you two will be together.”

He frowned. “She’ll reach her majority . . . and we’ll remain relations, and I rather hope we’ll always be close.”

“How much closer could you be than man and wife?”

“Man and wife? You want me to marry my cousin?”

“I don’t care what you do. Isn’t it what your uncle wanted?”

Jamie stared at her, honestly puzzled. He shook his head. “No.”

“But I thought—”

“He did have someone in mind for her.”

“But I thought . . . it was someone rather . . . in the family.”

“Maggie, Charles was very fond of Justin. Oh, your brother made some mistakes, but most of us make a number of mistakes. I was nearly thrown out of the service. Justin got into gambling. Seems he’s taking politics very seriously though, now. He is going to prove to be an asset to the Empire one day, I’m certain.”

Her knees suddenly felt very weak. He was not going to marry Arianna.

Of course, that didn’t mean he had any really serious feelings for her....

She suddenly had to moisten her lips to speak, nonetheless. “Arianna isn’t here,” she told him.

“Oh? I’m sorry I missed her. But I will speak with her.”

Maggie nodded.

He frowned. “Are you all right?”

She nodded again, hesitated, and said, “So . . . you have an hour.”

“Yes, just about.”

She smiled wistfully. “Would you talk to me for that time, then?”

For a very long time, he was just as still as she was. Then he walked to her, where she stood next to the old oak library desk. He brought his knuckles to her chin, and drew them slowly against her flesh. “Maggie, honestly, I’m very sorry. I was there, last night, you see.”

She leaned against him, cradling his hand against her face. “In Whitechapel?”

She didn’t dare look at him.

“Yes. I saw them, both of the victims.”

She drew back from him. “Why? What were you doing there?”

“Trying to catch the man,” he said ruefully.

“Hundreds of policemen are trying to do just that,” she said.

“I know, but . . . the Queen is truly a good woman, and of course, worried about the monarchy as well, but . . . honestly, there’s no one who can remain untouched by these terrible events.”