She sounded weary, and he knew it wasn’t any of his business. But he couldn’t help himself from pressing. “You said there had been a few.”
“There was another gentleman last year. He was a widower with a passel of children. I didn’t mind the idea on its face. Having children from the get-go, I mean. But it was more a business arrangement for him. I think he found me pretty. But if it’s just a transaction, I’m not interested in making it. I have my aunts. I have my home. I have my work.”
“You have your dead.”
“You aren’t a man who says much.”
“Not usually. No.”
“Yet . . . you are very opinionated where I am concerned.”
He was. He couldn’t help himself, and he still wasn’t ready to let the conversation rest. “How old was this . . . gentleman?”
“About your age. He was surprised when I turned him down. He told me I wouldn’t get a better offer.”
The thought made him instantly angry, and he fought the urge to get up from the bed and pace the room. “Shame on him,” he growled.
“Why shame?” she gasped.
“Asking a beautiful girl to come take care of his children and warm his bed and then being angry when she declines? I ought to find him in a dark alley one of these nights and take him down a few pegs.”
“I was flattered, and I told him so. Then I told him no, and that was that.”
He scowled. “And the Raus kid? What did you tell him?”
“He’s hardly a kid. He’s a year older than I am. He never asked, but I would have refused him. He’s married now with a child on the way.”
“Why didn’t you want him?”
“Because I felt nothing, absolutely nothing, when I was with him. When he kissed me, I might as well have been kissing the back of my hand. In fact, I enjoy kissing the back of my hand much more.” She yawned widely.
Suddenly, he wanted to kiss her hand more than he’d wanted anything else in the whole world. He gritted his teeth and thought about dark alleys and bringing wisdom and justice to fools. He must have radiated tension because Dani resumed her pleading, not realizing he had absolutely no desire to oust her.
“Just let me stay until the sun comes up. Please, Michael?” she coaxed wearily. “I’ll be gone when you wake.”
He wondered if he would ever be able to tell her no again. “All right, Dani.”
He sat up and turned out the lamp. Charlie bounded up and settled at his feet like it was a slumber party. Malone nudged him over with his foot just to remind the old boy whose bed he was in, but he didn’t oust him.
“Michael?” Dani murmured as he stretched out beside her.
“Yes?”
“Will you hold my hand? I keep seeing poor Jacob Bartunek, crying over his medical books.”
He huffed like it was a bother but reached out immediately, wrapping her slim fingers in his. “No snooping,” he grumbled.
“I told you. It doesn’t work that way, you silly old man.” She curled toward him. “What do I have to do to convince you?”
He didn’t answer. Her voice was already drowsy, and he didn’t really need to be persuaded. He believed her completely; he just wasn’t very good at admitting it. Like he’d said before, belief wasn’t his problem.
Her fingers grew lax against his, and he lay quietly, comforted by her presence beside him, by the weight of her hand, and by the cadence of her breathing. When he was sure she was asleep, he brought their clasped hands to his mouth and placed a kiss above her knuckles.
“I see what you mean, Dani. It’s lovely,” he murmured, and kissed her hand again. In fact, he might be happy kissing the back of her hand for the rest of his life.
Charlie protested deep in his throat, his hackles rising as though Malone were about to take a bite from Dani’s flesh.
“Be quiet, Charles,” Malone said, but he settled her hand in the space between them on the bed and pulled the edge of the comforter around her. Then he slept, surprisingly content.
He’d fallen asleep on the edge of the bed, as far from her as he could get. One arm was slung across his eyes, one arm hung off the side. One of his stockinged feet was on the floor as if he needed to ground himself to the earth while he slept. She understood that. She often feared being lost to dreams.
She pulled on her shoes and listened for Margaret. She didn’t want the woman to see her leaving Michael’s room. When she heard no sounds of movement or mumbled singing, she tiptoed out. Charlie followed, having completed his duty as chaperone. She ducked into Malone’s bathroom and tidied her curls with a wet comb and a touch of his pomade. She borrowed a bit of his tooth powder as well and scrubbed at her teeth with the end of her finger. It would do until she’d had her breakfast.
As soon as she reached the base of the stairs, she could hear her aunts and Margaret conversing above her and dishes clanking with the sounds of breakfast being prepared. Dani was still dressed in a deep blue dress, the “something dark” Michael had insisted she wear. It was a little too heavy for a Saturday spring morning, but her aunts wouldn’t notice, nor would they assume anything by her presence downstairs. She often began her day in the sewing room, the first to rise and the last to retire.
The women had the papers spread over the kitchen table, and Margaret was reading aloud, her voice suitably horrified.
“All they found was half of her leg,” she summarized. “Nothing else. They’ll be combing the banks all week for more. Coroner Gerber says it’s him again. It’s the Butcher.”
“Now the city will be in an uproar and Holy Week will be ruined,” Zuzana complained. “He might have waited until after Easter.”
“Good morning, Tety,” Dani said, pulling out her chair. “Margaret.”
“Good morning, Daniela,” the women said in tandem, but none of them gave her more than a passing glance.
“Will Mr. Malone be joining us?” Margaret asked.
“I don’t know. We will prepare him a tray if he doesn’t,” Dani answered.
Zuzana sneered. “There is little worse than a lazy man. Pavel, even when he was so ill he could hardly eat, did not make us serve him in bed.”