boss….
She knew better, of course. But Bright Star believed it. Her archenemy at Scotland Yard, DCI Vic Jackson, believed it. Maura, who considered herself eternally victimized and Kate a scheming pseudo-saint, believed it. No doubt Louise, the absentee mum who refused to stay absent, believed it, too.
I expect that of them , Kate reminded herself. They always assume the worst. It's Tony who should know better. Who should never ask me if I care what Henry wants, especially in front of them.
"Kate?" He rapped on the door.
She sighed. She hadn't shot the bolt, yet he still didn't enter, not without an invitation. Perhaps the people who'd reared him, all those terribly impressive sorts who stared down from portraits on the landings, would have considered that impolite, even between man and wife? In her old flat, she'd had to lock the door to keep Ritchie and Henry from bursting in, often to referee an argument while she tried to use the loo.
"Here I am, guv." She emerged from the bathroom. "All present and accounted for, sir."
Tony was prepared for the walk to 24 Euston Place, his overcoat buttoned and scarf wound around his throat. He'd also obtained Kate's newest coat, a Christmas present from him to her, which he passed over now. Full-length and cut from brilliant red wool, wearing the coat usually made her feel extravagant, glamorous. Now, as she slipped into it, she felt ridiculous, an utter fraud.
"Mum and Maura took the Tube?"
"Yes."
"I wonder you didn't put them in a black cab. Guv."
"As a matter of fact, I offered that very thing. Sergeant." His eyes twinkled. "They declined."
"I'm surprised you took no for an answer, given how madly you campaigned to get on their good side."
"My dear DS Hetheridge. If you believe Sir Duncan Godington is the only man of your acquaintance who uses charm as a weapon, you haven't been paying attention." Taking her hand, Tony examined the plaster on her injured knuckles. "Does it hurt?"
"Not as much as Maura's nose."
"No doubt."
She pulled her hand away. Black suede gloves were in her coat pockets. As she fished them out, she told herself to drop it. But even as she resolved to focus on the upcoming investigation, Kate heard herself say, "How could you ask that?"
"What? If it hurt?"
"You know what. If I cared what Henry wants."
"I only meant to redirect the discussion toward what matters most. Things seemed to be going off a cliff."
"It always does with them." Kate worked her aching hand into a glove, hoping it would prevent swelling as the night wore on. "Do you think I don't care what Henry wants?"
"Of course not."
"Because the worst thing about being trapped by those two wasn't getting decked. It was feeling like my husband, the person who's meant to trust me, has lumped me in with them. Like even you see me as one of them, a Wakefield to the bone."
He sighed. "That wasn't my intention. As far as how I see you—let me point out, it's not me who keeps forgetting you're called DS Hetheridge now."
Kate couldn't answer that. Instead, she pulled on the other glove, buttoned up her coat, turned up her collar and checked herself in the mirror once more. And she was fine, absolutely fine, until Tony put his arms around her. Then a hot tear slid down her cheek, burning a trail in that freshly-applied powder.
"I meant what I said about the warrant," he told her. "I'll have a word with my solicitor tomorrow. Henry wants to stay with us, he's accustomed to us, and surely the courts will see it our way."
"A judge will grant Maura access the moment she applies," Kate said bitterly. "At the very least, she'll be in this house night and day, bringing all her chaos with her. Telling Social Services a butler and someone like Ritchie can't handle child care. That you and I work round the clock, while she can devote herself twenty-four/seven."
"If I could solve this for you tonight—now—I would," Tony said.
"I know," Kate sniffed.
"There is something else, though, that we
She knew better, of course. But Bright Star believed it. Her archenemy at Scotland Yard, DCI Vic Jackson, believed it. Maura, who considered herself eternally victimized and Kate a scheming pseudo-saint, believed it. No doubt Louise, the absentee mum who refused to stay absent, believed it, too.
I expect that of them , Kate reminded herself. They always assume the worst. It's Tony who should know better. Who should never ask me if I care what Henry wants, especially in front of them.
"Kate?" He rapped on the door.
She sighed. She hadn't shot the bolt, yet he still didn't enter, not without an invitation. Perhaps the people who'd reared him, all those terribly impressive sorts who stared down from portraits on the landings, would have considered that impolite, even between man and wife? In her old flat, she'd had to lock the door to keep Ritchie and Henry from bursting in, often to referee an argument while she tried to use the loo.
"Here I am, guv." She emerged from the bathroom. "All present and accounted for, sir."
Tony was prepared for the walk to 24 Euston Place, his overcoat buttoned and scarf wound around his throat. He'd also obtained Kate's newest coat, a Christmas present from him to her, which he passed over now. Full-length and cut from brilliant red wool, wearing the coat usually made her feel extravagant, glamorous. Now, as she slipped into it, she felt ridiculous, an utter fraud.
"Mum and Maura took the Tube?"
"Yes."
"I wonder you didn't put them in a black cab. Guv."
"As a matter of fact, I offered that very thing. Sergeant." His eyes twinkled. "They declined."
"I'm surprised you took no for an answer, given how madly you campaigned to get on their good side."
"My dear DS Hetheridge. If you believe Sir Duncan Godington is the only man of your acquaintance who uses charm as a weapon, you haven't been paying attention." Taking her hand, Tony examined the plaster on her injured knuckles. "Does it hurt?"
"Not as much as Maura's nose."
"No doubt."
She pulled her hand away. Black suede gloves were in her coat pockets. As she fished them out, she told herself to drop it. But even as she resolved to focus on the upcoming investigation, Kate heard herself say, "How could you ask that?"
"What? If it hurt?"
"You know what. If I cared what Henry wants."
"I only meant to redirect the discussion toward what matters most. Things seemed to be going off a cliff."
"It always does with them." Kate worked her aching hand into a glove, hoping it would prevent swelling as the night wore on. "Do you think I don't care what Henry wants?"
"Of course not."
"Because the worst thing about being trapped by those two wasn't getting decked. It was feeling like my husband, the person who's meant to trust me, has lumped me in with them. Like even you see me as one of them, a Wakefield to the bone."
He sighed. "That wasn't my intention. As far as how I see you—let me point out, it's not me who keeps forgetting you're called DS Hetheridge now."
Kate couldn't answer that. Instead, she pulled on the other glove, buttoned up her coat, turned up her collar and checked herself in the mirror once more. And she was fine, absolutely fine, until Tony put his arms around her. Then a hot tear slid down her cheek, burning a trail in that freshly-applied powder.
"I meant what I said about the warrant," he told her. "I'll have a word with my solicitor tomorrow. Henry wants to stay with us, he's accustomed to us, and surely the courts will see it our way."
"A judge will grant Maura access the moment she applies," Kate said bitterly. "At the very least, she'll be in this house night and day, bringing all her chaos with her. Telling Social Services a butler and someone like Ritchie can't handle child care. That you and I work round the clock, while she can devote herself twenty-four/seven."
"If I could solve this for you tonight—now—I would," Tony said.
"I know," Kate sniffed.
"There is something else, though, that we
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