A Lesson in Chemistry With Inspector Bruce Read Free Page B

her neck to peer down the tracks.
    Walter reached out and held her arm. “Careful, Fiona.”
    If she’d fallen flat on her face, she wouldn’t be in any danger of ending up on the tracks. The man was insufferable—even in short doses. Just imagine how suffocating he might be as a husband. As if he could read her mind, he brought the subject up again.
    “I am happy to report that with the turn of leaves this fall, my health has greatly improved. In fact, I’m feeling rather invigorated these days. Perhaps you would allow me to escort you to the park next week? We could make a picnic of it. I shall order a hamper from Fortnum’s.”
    The chug and hiss of the train was music to her ears. Fiona made an effort not to frown. “I’ve really got to knuckle down these next six weeks or I shall never pass the exam.” His gaze faltered a bit. “Sorry to disappoint, Walter, but I cannot afford a day of leisure until after the holidays.”
    “Come, come, Miss Rose, you must allow yourself a modicum of pleasure—” The train gasped to a stop and the doors rolled back. Immediately passengers debarked even as the assemblage on the platform pushed forward. Carried along in the surge and jostle, Fiona looked back. “Walter, you’ll miss the train.”
    “Sit in a closed car with all those germs in the air?” Walter mocked a shiver. “Good day, Fiona.” He tipped his hat and backed away.
    Settling herself in the passenger car, Fiona mulled over her encounter with Walter. He must have seen her enter the station and followed her down to the platform. And this wasn’t the first time she had run into him as though by chance. Last week, after delivering samples of her soaps to Harvey Nichols, she had nearly collided with Walter on the stairs between the haberdashery and linens.
    She exhaled an exasperated sigh. As Mother so kindly pointed out time and again, Walter Montague was an attractive young man who enjoyed a substantial income. She rocked in her seat as the brakes released and the train left the station. It wasn’t the gentleman’s fault he suffered from weak lungs; a person couldn’t help having a fragile constitution. Fiona twisted up a pout. It was Walter’s fawning that truly put her off—most grating. And honestly, how could a girl carry on with a man who was more well-groomed than herself?
    ARCHIE WAS RUNNING late. Again. The hansom turned onto Great Russell Street and slowed, caught in a mangle of traffic. After his perilous dealings in Limehouse, he had returned to the lab for a hurried review of staff assignments and a brief recounting of the morning’s adventures. Even Gareth was able to chuckle a bit at his own dangerous blunder—in the opium haze, he had mistaken a jug of paraffin oil for water.
    Archie craned his neck to see what the snarl-up was about. Hooking a finger into his fob pocket, he pulled out his timepiece. A quarter to two—but that was impossible. “Bollocks,” he muttered. He’d forgotten to wind his watch. It appeared his reputation for a disheveled appearance and chronic lateness was well deserved today, after missing a meeting with Melville and the Royal Society luncheon. And bugger all, to top it off, he was going to be late for class.
    The cab had yet to move half a block. Archie opened the trapdoor in the roof and handed the driver a few coppers. “I’ll get out here.” He dodged a dogcart and made it to the sidewalk, jogging the rest of the way to 17 Bloomsbury Square. If he recalled correctly, the college was located on the second floor of the Royal Pharmaceutical Society, along with the school’s practical laboratory, which was the envy of every chemist in Britain.
    He took the steps two at a time and entered a suite of offices at the top of the stairs. “Can I help you, young man?”
    Archie swung around. A bright-eyed, middle-aged gentleman with a shock of steel-gray hair and whiskers poked his head out one of the doors. “I’m here to conduct a preparatory course for