In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

The chauffeur tooted the hom and the gatekeeper came running out of his lodge to open the big iron gates. I heard them clang shut behind us as we drove through. Soames met us with an umbrella and hot milk was brought to my room. It wasn't until I was finally alone that the full impact of my meeting with Justin Hartley hit me. I was cold and wet and shivered so violently that my numb fingers wouldn't unlace the hated corset. I cursed at it and sat on my bed, fighting back the tears that welled up. I was being just the kind of ninny that I despised, but I couldn't help it. Now that I knew he was alive, I could never feel safe again. What if he did some checking to prove whether I really was Molly Gaffney or not? What if he contacted Molly Gaffney’s family in Ireland? If he told the Flynns the truth about me, I'd still have some fancy explaining to do. And even worse, one day I might open my front door to find someone with an extradition order, come to take me back to trial in Ireland.

A flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder overhead startled me. Rain came in a solid downpour. I considered ringing for the maid to undress me, then was instantly ashamed of my weakness. I wrestled with the dratted corset until I was finally free. Then I climbed into bed and hugged my knees to me. I wanted to be away from this place and back to the safety and anonymity of New York, where I had friends to take care of me. I would have to find a way to free myself from Theresa and get on with the job I came to do.

The storm raged on and sleep wouldn't come. I opened my eyes, suddenly alert, at the small sound of my bedroom door opening. A flash of lightning illuminated a figure creeping toward me, glowing with a pale light. I sat up with a gasp of fear.

“Shhh!” The figure put a finger to his lips. “It’s only me, Molly. Cousin Barney. I thought you might be frightened by the storm.”

I watched him crossing the floor toward me. He was carrying a candle.

“It’s kind of you to be concerned,” I said, “but I'm perfectly fine. We get some prettyfiercestorms in Ireland, you know,”

“Yes, I suppose you do.” He put the candle down on the small table beside my bed and perched on the edge of my bed itself. His speech was slurred and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I wasn't sure what to do next and just sat there, hugging the bed-clothes around me.

“I'm really all right, Bamey,” I reiterated. 'You can go back to your own bed. I don't think Theresa would be happy if she caught you in here.”

Theresa has no doubt taken one of her sleeping powders and will hear nothing until morning,” he said, “and asformy own bed, it’s awfully lonely, you know. Cold and empty and lonely.” His hand slid toward me and moved up my arm to my shoulder. “I told you be-fore that I'm a normal man with normal needs, Molly. And I get the feeling that you're a hot-blooded woman. We'd go well together.”

I had been frozen with fear and fascination until his hand moved to the neck of my nightgown and hisfingersexplored inside the thin cotton batiste. Then I was out of bed with one great leap.

“Are you out of your mind?” I demanded, half of me still trying to react the way I thought Molly Gaffney might while the other half wanted to hit him over the head with the nearest hard object. “Your own cousin. Have you no shame? Think of my poor mother, lying in her grave.”

“Molly, don't throw me out. A fellow could go mad with desire, you know. Nobody needs to know.”

He reached for me again. Again I bounded out of reach. “Cousin Bamey!” I pushed away his hand. “It’s the drink making you behave like this. You'll regret it in the morning. Now go back to bed before I scream loud enough to wake the entire household.”

Without warning he sat down on my bed and started to sob. “You don't know what it’s like,” he mumbled. “She won't let me near her. Treats me like a stranger. I'm all alone, Molly. All alone.”

I went to put an arm around him, then thought better of it. Instead, I lifted him to his feet like a child. “You'll befine,” I said. “What you need right now is a good night’s sleep.” I thrust the candlestick into his hand. “Go on, off with you.”

This approach seemed to work. Maybe it kindled memories of his mother.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered. “I don't know what came over me.” And he ambled back down the hallway, leaving me shaken and wide awake. I put a chair under my door handle in case he had any more nocturnal wanderings before I crawled back into bed and lay there listening to the storm. Why did life have to be so full of complications? It was bad enough having Justin Hartley to worry about without having to bar my door against Bamey Flynn. Marrying Jacob and settling down as a housewife didn't seem such a bad option after all. But then I remembered that dear, kind Jacob, who always asked my permission to brush his lips against mine, had been too weak to acknowledge my existence to his cousins. And then there was Daniel—whom I would probably never stop loving, but who was too weak to break off a loveless engagement.

What was the matter with men? I asked myself. Some of them were too weak to control their animal impulses, some too weak to go against society. And they called us the weaker sex! It seemed to me that we were braver and more steadfast than the lot of them. I resolved to steer clear of difficult male entanglements in the future. Having decided this, I fell sound asleep.

Next morning I woke to bright sunlight streaming in through my window. I came down to breakfast tofindthat Theresa was still feeling unwell and would keep to her bed for the day.