A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this to you. Life got in the way, along with a little writer's block. I hope you enjoy this, despite the wait.

Chapter 7

The next morning, William, face drawn and pale from lack of sleep, came down the stairs just in time to hear the key turning in the lock of the front door. He moved his hand to his holster, hidden beneath his suitcoat, and paused at the foot of the stairs. His heart picked up speed. His tension lifted when in came Mrs. MacKenzie, and another person right behind her, chattering away like long lost friends. Which, it would seem, they were.

"Now, I'm sure your guests aye still abed, Master Oliver," she said. "I dinnae mynd sayin', they're streenge ones. Why, the Missus, she—"

"Missus?" Oliver Fitzroy interrupted, brows knit in confusion.

William quickly intervened, his voice booming and drowning out any further uncomfortable questions.

"Fitzroy, good of you to check in on us. My wife is still asleep upstairs," he said. He met and held the young detective's eyes, willing that for once Fitzroy could use his head for more than just a hat rack. "Mrs. Mackenzie, glad you could get here this morning. Please go up and see to my wife. She is in dire need since you weren't here last night."

"Ah shuid think sae. She's as helpless as a wee lamb, that one." She nodded deferentially to Fitzroy. "Good tae hae ye back, Master Oliver."

"Thank you, Mrs. MacKenzie."

William waited until he heard Eliza's door open before he went over to Fitzroy, his voice going ominously low. "What the hell are you doing here? Someone might have followed ye."

"I have some good news, sir—"

"It bloody better be akin to the Second Coming, or by God, I'll horsewhip you."

But William's bluster didn't seem to strike any fear into his heart, for Fitzroy's smile was bright as the morning sun. "I got on a train as soon as I found out, sir. I travelled all night to get here. It was a tiring trip, and there was no time to stop for something to eat. Do you suppose Mrs. MacKenzie could-"

William actually growled, and Fitzroy got to the point at last. "We got him! Miss Scarlet's assassin, sir—we got him!"

William's heart leapt, but naturally he was extremely skeptical. "How can ye be certain, lad? There were no witnesses of the shooting."

"We found him in Miss Scarlet's room. He had the rifle and was in the process of digging pellets out of the wall and floor, no doubt trying to hide the evidence."

"What man? What's his name?"
"Why, that Nash person. The private detective."

William's heart sank into his stomach. "For God's sake, man, Nash no more shot Miss Scarlet than I did! The man's a menace, but he's obviously investigating the crime on his own-Miss Scarlet works for him now. Of all the half-witted, bone-headed…You get back on that fekkin' train and tell Munro they've got the wrong man."

"Yes, sir." Crestfallen, Fitzroy spent a moment examining his shoes before he turned back toward the door.

A thought struck William. "Wait, where did he say he got the gun?"

"Said he found it in a waste bin, two blocks from Miss Scarlet's home."

"Did anyone think to investigate this claim? Whose bin was it?"

Fitzroy shrugged sheepishly. "I couldn't tell you that, sir."

Wiliam was trying very hard to control his anger. "Well, don't you think that's relevant information, Detective? I'm gone for three days and the whole of Scotland Yard's lost their bloody minds. Now, did you interview Lord Rothschild like I told ye to?"

"Yes, sir. He had his solicitor present, and they offered nothing new, save maintaining his innocence."

William was torn. The entire investigation back in London was being run in such a slipshod manner that he feared Eliza's shooter might never be found, and indeed might still be stalking his prey. There was no way he could leave Eliza now, or take her with him back to London to clean up the mess there. He sighed in frustration.

"Here's what you're going to do, Detective. Before you go back to the train station, you'll find a private carriage to rent and send

it back here, instructing them—and this is imperative—to come back here an hour after you've gotten back on the train to London. Someone quite possibly has followed you, and I'll need to get Miss Scarlet to a new location that nobody knows," he said meaningfully.

"I'm sorry, sir, truly. Oh! Here's a letter from Superintendent Munro."

William took the letter, restraining himself from asking why the devil Fitzroy hadn't given him this first thing. He broke the seal and scanned the missive, noting and disregarding the orders to return to Scotland Yard posthaste. Without speaking, he went purposefully to Fitzroy's father's desk in the corner of the parlor and, retrieving a sheet of heavy, expensive paper, pen and ink, quickly replied. He put the letter into a matching envelope, lighting a match and melting red wax, using a plain sealing stamp. He had just handed his reply to Fitzroy, when a noise brought his attention to the top of the stairs. His eyes rested on Eliza, softening his expression involuntarily as he beheld her, neatly dressed, coifed and smiling—though not at him.

"Detective Fitzroy!" she called from above.

"Miss—" Fitzroy began, blushing and smiling at the lovely lady.

"We are Mr. and Mrs. Burns," William interrupted him under his breath. Fitzroy's eyes widened, but thankfully he was able to think on his feet, lest Mrs. MacKenzie hear.

"Oh, of course."

Eliza had made her way to the bottom of the stairs, and, ignoring William, went directly to their visitor. "What news from London?" she asked.

"I'm so glad to see you well, Mrs. uh, Burns." At William's sharp look, Fitzroy continued in a stuttering whisper. "We've arrested a suspect, but the Inspector believes we've nabbed the wrong man."

"Who?" asked Eliza quietly, looking quickly back at William, then again at Fitzroy, who in turn looked to his supervisor for permission. William nodded his head resignedly; it was no use keeping anything from Eliza Scarlet. "I believe you are acquainted with Mr. Patrick Nash…"

"What?" she said on a gasp. "Now, William—"

William looked heavenward for divine intervention. "Don't get yourself in a tizzy, Mrs. Burns. I already told him it isn't Nash."

"I would think so. Nash is many things, but certainly not a murderer."

"It's the many things that worry me," said William under his breath. "The detective was just on his way to tell Munro this. You'd better get going if you're to catch the next train."

"Sir, I haven't eaten. Might I see if Mrs. MacKenzie has something to eat in the kitchen?"

"Get something at the station, Detective—"

"Of course, Detective Fitzroy," replied Eliza simultaneously. "I think there's some bread and cheese; perhaps a spare apple too. William, you can't starve the poor man. He's come such a long way…"

It was nearly impossible to refuse her, and last night's debacle when he'd for once put his foot down with Eliza was what had kept him up brooding all night. Feeling decidedly outnumbered by two pairs of wide, imploring eyes, William pinched the bridge of his nose; he could feel a headache coming on. "Fine. But hurry up about it and be on your way."

"Thank you sir. Miss—Mrs. Burns." If there was a suggestive gleam in Fitzroy's tone, both Eliza and William chose wisely to ignore it. Mrs. MacKenzie came down at that moment, having finished making up the beds.

"Mr. Fitzroy is hungry, Mrs. MacKenzie," Eliza said. "If you'll pack something for him to take on the train…"

"Yes, Missus. I'll fix him up right, dinnae ye fash."

"And after you do that, please pack Mrs. Burns's things. Mr. Fitzroy brought us news that we must see to some urgent business, and return immediately to London, so we'll no longer require your services," added William.

"Och, aye?" She raised an eyebrow at this. "I'll see tae it right away then."

"Thank you, Mrs. MacKenzie," said Eliza politely. She was a gruff woman, but had been very helpful to her, and Eliza was grateful. When the housekeeper left for the kitchen, Eliza turned to William.

"Where are we going really?"

"I don't ken yet; I'll think of a place. We can't stay here now, nor return to London. Fitzroy has fek—has made a mess of things. Who knows who might have followed him. We'll sneak away as soon as he leaves."

There was an awkward moment as they regarded each other. William wanted more than anything to put things to rights between them, but he didn't quite know how. He'd never been in a position to have regrets for not taking a woman. If he'd wanted a woman, and the feeling was mutual, he would have her. Altruistic self-denial had never been a consideration before, especially when a woman was clearly willing. In the light of day, he wondered if he'd made a terrible mistake.

"Eliza—" he began, taking a step toward her.

"No, William. You needn't apologize. I see now that you were right. Last night was…ill-advised. Nothing must happen between us again. We are not a proper match."

"I disagree," he said, taking her hands. "I just want the timing to be right." Another step closer, and his voice dropped to a heated whisper. "Make no mistake, Eliza, I want you, more than I have ever wanted a woman. All I ask is your trust…and your patience."

Her cheeks had flushed at his touch, at his words. "But you rejected me."

"Never," he said passionately. "I will have you, if it is the last thing I do."

"Please, let it not be the last thing," she said, the ghost of a smile hovering about her lips. He brought both her hands up to his mouth, his eyes still boring into hers.

"You know more than anyone that patience is not my strong suit, William."

He grinned, hope filling his body, right alongside the stirring of desire. "That I do."

He was about to draw her into his arms, when Fitzroy emerged from the kitchen, a small basket in hand. William dropped Eliza's hands and stepped a safe distance away. The junior detective paused in the doorway to the parlor, looked from one to the other, speculation and a bit of amusement behind his quirking lips.

"I'll just be going now, sir. I'll see you back in London next week?"

"Yes, you will. Now, be mindful, in case someone follows you, and for God's sake, man, don't come lookin' for us again."

"Yes, sir."

Eliza walked over to the young man, and his face flushed at her nearness. "Thank you for letting us stay here, Detective," she said, "it was very kind."

"My pleasure, Miss Scarlet." At William's stern expression, he nodded respectfully and took his leave, riding back toward Ryde on his rented horse.

"You needn't be so severe. He's doing the best he can."

"That's just it; he needs a firm hand to keep improving. If I go soft on him, he'll go soft too."

For once, Eliza didn't belabor the point. She was more interested in returning to the place they'd been before Fitzroy interrupted them. But William felt the moment was lost, and he was painfully aware that they were not alone in this house. Mrs. MacKenzie would have found nothing amiss, given that they were supposed to be married, but William still had no desire for an audience to his intimate affairs. Instead, he walked over to a framed picture on the wall behind Fitzroy, Senior's desk. It was a large map of The Isle of Wight. He felt Eliza's gaze on him, felt her disappointment. Well, it certainly couldn't be more than his own, thought William morosely.

Eliza stared at William's strong back, his muscular form in faint relief beneath the cotton of his dress shirt. Her eyes drifted lower, to his bottom, how it fit so snuggly beneath his trousers. She felt heat suffuse her just looking at him, and she wondered vaguely if something was wrong with her, that she would find every part of him so unbearably attractive. She'd been overwhelmed by that desire last night, and it had made her wish for sensual, impractical things. Naturally, it had to be William to rein her in, and while she'd been angry at his seeming rejection, she'd actually been more embarrassed than anything else. She always hated to admit when he was right. She'd seen too many women brought low by unmarried pregnancies, how difficult it made their lives, both in the eyes of a judgmental society and the financial burden of providing for a baby on their own. William would do the right thing by her, but she wondered if either of them would be happy with a forced wedding.

Her father would be able to rest in peace, however, seeing her settled in marriage to a good man, raising children and keeping a home. Despite all his indulgence of her curiosity, in her education at home and at school, he would have been shocked to see her forgoing a woman's usual role to follow in his footsteps as a detective. She knew, of course, that William wanted a traditional wife, and so here they were again, back at square one of their vicious circle. They wanted each other, perhaps even loved each other, but at this point, neither of them loved each other enough to compromise. It made her sad and frustrated and annoyed with the entire world. She must have sighed aloud, for William turned from the map to look at her.

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know," she replied in sudden anguish.

Despite all the reasons why it wasn't a good idea, she walked purposefully over to him and into his arms. He only hesitated a moment before holding her tightly against him, his chin resting atop her head.

"We'll find a safe place, I promise," he said, misinterpreting her emotions. She was concerned about that too, of course, but it was odd that even with her life in danger, she was more concerned with the uncertainty between them. She embraced him more tightly, and let him believe what he wanted, so long as he held her while he did it.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

An hour later, Mrs. Mackenzie had packed their things from their rooms, fed them breakfast, and packed another small basket with food for their trip. She said she would be back to more thoroughly tidy the house once they'd gone, and they bid her, if not a fond farewell, a grateful one, William's money safely in her pocket. Their carriage hadn't arrived yet, and William feared Fitzroy either hadn't managed to do what he'd asked, or worse, had forgotten.

A light tap at the door made William reach for his gun again, giving a warning glance at Eliza, who sat on the Damask settee in the parlor across from him, sipping her tea. He went to the door, expecting that it was the driver of the carriage at last, though he hadn't heard any approaching horses.

"Who is it?" he demanded in his gruffest tone.

"A friend," replied an unmistakable Jamaican accent. Eliza's face lit up, and she rose to join William at the door.

William cast his eyes heavenward. "Good God. Did all of London follow us here?"

Eliza nudged him impatiently. "Open the door, William."

If one could open a door painfully, William did so, allowing the big man to make his casual entrance.

"Moses! What on earth are you doing here?" Eliza exclaimed with a smile.

"I followed de young detective from London. I guessed he was coming to find you and wanted to make sure he wasn't followed."

Eliza raised an amused eyebrow. "So you followed him to be sure he wasn't followed?" Moses grinned, and she returned it in shared amusement.

William's eyes narrowed, both at the rogue's actions and his ease with the woman he loved.

"I thought I warned you to stay away," William said.

Moses shrugged dismissively. "You'll be happy to know I saw no one on his tail. You're likely safe, at least for now."

"That is good to know, thank you," said Eliza, glancing with satisfaction at William, who didn't seem to share her gratitude. "But what of Nash? Or the real culprit?"

"Nash was careless. He went into your house and got caught. Idiot. As for de shooter, he is long gone. I talked to a few of mi contacts and dey said he left on a train to Scotland de day after de shootin', once word got out you had left London. Dey think they scared you away." His eyes lit with the irony of it.

Eliza scoffed. "It's clear they don't know me."

"More like there was too much heat from Scotland Yard," suggested William.

"Dat too," Moses agreed.

"Well, William, there's no reason to leave here now, is there?"

William was torn. "I don't know. Too many people know our whereabouts now." He looked pointedly at Moses, who was maddeningly unperturbed.

"I'll take it to mi grave," Moses proclaimed dryly. "I'll be goin' back to London now, seein' as ya bote safe."

Without even looking at Eliza, he knew what was coming. "Nonsense. Stay here at least the night to rest from your journey. You must be hungry—"

And without looking at the scowl on William's face, Moses knew what the answer to that invitation must be. "Kind a you, Miss Scarlet, but I need to get back to London. I have bizniz to see to. I will take somethin' to eat doh."

"Of course!" And Eliza went to the kitchen, leaving Moses and William alone.

"You're sure no one saw you or Fitzroy?" William asked.

"Yeah. As sure as I can be."

"Are you working on Nash's behalf now? He has a whole office full of detectives trying to prove his innocence, I imagine."
"Oh, he does. But he knows I'm de best. He sent for me soon as he was arrested. Dat gun he found was not like any dat I've seen. Something very new, with sights on it dat looked very advanced. I can't imagine anyone trowing dat away unless someone very powerful was payin'. I'm tinkin' dat there's someone else out there, lyin' in wait, with another weapon just like dat—or worse."

William regarded the Jamaican thoughtfully a moment, and with a slight nod to himself, said aloud: "I'll pay you double your fee for you to hang around and keep watch over Eliza—but she can't know."

Moses looked momentarily surprised, then a slow smile spread over his face. "Well…dat must have been hard."

William looked annoyed. "You have no idea. But I need someone that knows his way around a gun that I—that Eliza can trust. It's been difficult having to guard her on the inside of the house while wondering what's going on outside. I don't feel comfortable leaving her alone either, and with Ivy not here, I've had to rely on a stranger to be a maid for her."

"Dis situation has been very good for you," said Moses, knowingly inclining his head toward the kitchen.

William tried to control his quick anger. "I'll not have you besmirching Eliza's reputation," he said tightly. "Her virtue remains intact."

Moses's eyes twinkled, but he wisely backed off the topic. "Why can she not know I'm still here?"

"Truthfully, it's because I don't want to hear her smug comments, but also, I don't want her feeling a false sense of security and going out of this house to have some…assignation with you."

Moses's eyebrows shot up. Was that a hint of jealousy in the inspector's voice. "I see," was Moses's only reply to that.

"So, will you do it?"

"Yeah, but you should know Nash is already paying me triple my usual fee." Moses didn't mention that he'd planned to stay nearby anyway, if only for Eliza's security. He could not care less about Patrick Nash, except that the detective stayed out of jail so he could pay him.

William's eyes narrowed at Moses. This was why he didn't completely trust the man. He had no idea whether anything he said was actually true. But William felt backed into a corner by their precarious circumstances. "Fine." William held out his hand, and Moses shook it, sealing the bargain. At that moment, Eliza returned from the kitchen, a small bundle in hand. She stopped short, watching the two men looking so earnestly at one another, the air fraught with some unknown tension.

"Good to see you two are friends now," she said.

"I was just saying good-bye," said William, dropping Moses's hand self-consciously. "And uh, thanking him for his care in following Fitzroy."

Of course, Eliza wasn't buying it; William had proven physically incapable of thanking Moses Valentine. She was sure she'd get the truth of it out of William later, however, by employing a new kind of manipulation.

She handed Moses the lunch she'd packed him—an exact replica of what Mrs. MacKenzie had prepared, so she figured it should be palatable.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll be off now."

"Be careful," cautioned Eliza, following him out of the parlor.

"That's why I'm still alive, Miss," he said with a grin. He put on his hat and tipped it to them, then opened the front door. Immediately, a gunshot echoed down the street, while a bullet tore through the house. Moses instinctively closed the door and stepped aside, while William dove atop Scarlet, both of them falling to the floor in a heap, as bullets hit the closed door and broke the panes of the bay window. A few seconds later, the gunman apparently had to stop to reload.

"Get out of here, Eliza!" William commanded in her ear. "Stay away from doors and windows!" He helped her to her feet and she ducked out of sight, and then took out his revolver, moving to peak cautiously through a corner of the curtains.

"I think I'll stay awhile, if you don't mind," quipped Moses, his own gun in hand.

A/N: I thank you again for reading, and for your kind reviews.