a/n- I hadn't intended to add a second chapter, but then this happened. Technically counts as spoilers for the end of The Fashion in Shrouds since I've borrowed much of the dialogue from that scene.
August, 1937
They sat together in Amanda's cottage talking quietly, watching the dawn break over the treetops that marked the edge of the meadow on her property. The police had finally left and both Lugg and Hal were upstairs preparing beds for them after what had proved to be a very eventful night. Neither of them had yet mentioned the elephant in the room, how Campion had managed to survive yet another brush with attempted homicide unscathed.
Amanda glanced sidelong at her companion and wondered if she ought to ask him about his secret again, and if he'd answer honestly this time.
They'd grown closer over the summer, spending so much time together as they had, she thought. Albert had made an agreeable fiancé while their pretend engagement had lasted, but in the years since she'd last seen him in Pontisbright, he'd changed. It was more than just the difference in her own perspective, she knew. He'd lost something of the reckless innocence he'd once had, and in its place had grown a sort of weary cynicism about the world that had pained her to see. He'd played his role as heartbroken lover too well for her not to have an inkling as to what might have caused this change in him.
That subtly guarded way he held himself whenever conversations became too personal, too close to uncovering whatever it was that he was afraid to admit wasn't new, however. He'd been more open with her than most, she suspected, but he was still hiding something big. It bothered her not to know what it was, even though he hardly owed her any explanation if he wasn't comfortable giving one.
He looked so tired sitting there, dark circles under his eyes betraying a chronic lack of sleep. This investigation had cost him more than he'd readily admit. Now was hardly the time to interrogate him. She bit her lip and buried the question.
"Say, where did you put my ring? It was Aunt Flo's, you know, and the stones are thought to be real if not large," she asked suddenly to distract herself from prying thoughts.
Campion searched his pockets and returned the ring to her. Amanda stood looking at it strangely for a long moment as it lay in the palm of her hand. She looked very young indeed in the early morning sunshine, he reflected.
"Oh, go on, put it on. I'll be happy to marry you if you care for the idea," he said, looking up at her fondly. "And then, when I'm fifty and feeling like a quiet life, you'll go and fall with a thud for some silly chap who'll give us both hell."
Amanda hesitated. She hadn't been expecting a proposal from him, certainly not one so unromantic, though she supposed that suited them both. "Cake love, you mean?" Her eyes sparkled beneath her brown lashes.
"Call it what you like," he waved a hand tiredly. "Only, don't pretend it doesn't exist or that you're immune."
Amanda regarded him with great affection. "Cake makes some people sick," she said finally. Then she slipped the ring back on her finger without dropping her gaze from his.
"So it does." Mr. Campion laughed and caught her hand in his own, tugging her over to his side. She sat on the sofa next to him with a smile. He patted her hand and sighed contentedly, sinking into the upholstery. "Do you know, Amanda, I'm not sure 'Comfort' isn't your middle name?"
Lugg found them there several minutes later, sound asleep, Amanda's head resting on Campion's shoulder and his similarly inclined against hers.