Murder on the Minneapolis (27 page)

‘Obsession is a strange word. One most people would prefer to avoid.’

The deck seemed to dip beneath her, but surely not? They were at anchor, weren’t they?

‘What do you mean?’

‘Am I a nice obsession, or do you seek to protect your heart against hurt?’ She groaned inwardly. She was gabbling again. Why didn’t he stop her?

‘Do I possess the ability to hurt your heart, Miss Maguire?’ His lop-sided smile appeared slowly. First as a twitch beside his lips and then a full, heart-stopping grin.

He held her gaze and no matter how much she wanted to look away, she could not. ‘Yes.’

‘In that case, may I call upon you at Cleeve Abbey? I would very much like to see you again. If that’s agreeable to you.’

If only he knew how agreeable. She fought down the bubble of excitement that fizzed in her veins. It wouldn’t do to appear too eager.

‘Will you arrive in your motor car?’

‘No. Matilda’s engine cannot get much above fifteen miles an hour, whereas a train—’ he broke off and coughed again.

She returned his smile, not caring if he arrived by dog cart or had to walk all the way from Surrey. She would
meet him halfway if need be. Flora’s chest filled with sea air and happiness.

‘Although I’m not at all sure about being courted by a man who regards a house with eight bedrooms as a modest residence.’

‘You’ll get used to it. If I can tolerate a lady with a penchant for investigating murders, it’s a small thing to put up with.’ He paused, and frowned. ‘There is, of course, my mother to consider. She can be an acquired taste.’

‘Flora!’ Eddy whined. ‘We have to go.’

Impulsively, Flora’s hand closed on Bunny’s upper arm. She pushed herself up on tiptoe and pressed her mouth briefly to his before she turned and ran down the gangplank to where Eddy waited.

She chose not to mention that Ptolemy Harrington would find Riordan Maguire a match for anyone. He could discover that for himself.