The Bachelor Girl's Guide to Murder by Rachel McMillan Page B

Toronto’s reputation to its Victorian morality. They even drank to “Toronto the Good.”
    A patron twice as large as Jem and with sour breath approached her. “Got a light?”
    She exhaled and kept her mouth clenched shut, hoping Merinda would step in. But her friend was preoccupied watching Forbes and company in the corner. The stench of liquor was so tangible on the man she could taste it before it dissolved in salty bile at the back of her throat. She shook her head.
    â€œYou’re not one for speaking,” the man persisted.
    Jem lowered her voice: “I-I’m waiting for someone.”
    The man positioned himself onto a barstool, but even so he was several inches taller than Jem, who remained standing. He squinted at her, then reached over and abruptly plucked the cap from her head. “You’re a woman!”
    Several onlookers gave Jem their sudden attention. Even Merinda whipped her head over her shoulder, concern flashing in her eyes. She gripped the walking stick at her side.
    â€œI’m c-coming from a society meeting,” Jem explained lamely.
    Beefy knuckles gripped the plait of hair down Jem’s back and pulled her close, and she gave a little shriek. “Forbes will know what to do with you.”
    Jem thought fast and hard. She looked to Merinda, who still hadn’t been found out. Merinda mouthed one word to Jem: Run.
    Jem spied the open door and swooped her cap from the counter. She yanked herself free from the large man and made quickly for the exit, spry and much faster than her pursuer with his lumbering stride. She ran and ran, hearing him cursing behind her. Rounding Center Street, she lost him.
    She stood breathing hard in the shadows, hoping Merinda would follow soon.
    Unattended dogs yelped on the soggy cement. The streets were mostly deserted at this time of night, but through windows she could hear babies screeching while nearly all the languages of the worldchimed discordantly. Jem pulled her cap back on and tucked her hair deep into its folds, keeping her eyes down and remembering to walk with her legs and not her hips. She kept her gaze downward, focusing on the first sprinkling of snow on the street.
    So, when she collided with someone so hard she had the wind knocked out of her, she could do little but gasp, waiting for her breathing to return to normal.
    Muffled laughter met her ears.
    â€œWhat’s so funny?” she demanded.
    â€œPerfect! I was hoping to run into you, and I did. Literally.”
    Jem’s words fled. That voice! The one laced with chocolate and moonlight. She turned her gaze onto the dark hair and eyes she had sketched a thousand times in her head.
    Ray DeLuca.
    â€œJemima Watts,” he said, helping her up. “Posing as a man again, I see.”
    She brushed herself off and took her first full breath since the collision. “Are you here reporting something, Mr. DeLuca?”
    â€œI might be reporting you. Who’s to say I haven’t followed the girl in trousers halfway around the city?”
    â€œReporting me? I—”
    â€œCalm down.” He led her to the side of the street. A group of revelers passed, moving in the direction of the Lion tavern, from which she’d just run.
    Jem lowered her voice. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
    â€œOf course you haven’t.” Ray looked her over. “This is the second time I’ve found you wandering around at night wearing men’s clothing. Silly girl.” Ray shook his head.
    â€œI am not silly.”
    He raised his eyebrow. “Really?”
    â€œI am here on important business.” The look he gave her stirred her wrath. “In fact, I am here on behalf of a client.”
    â€œA client?” His eyes flashed. “Who?”
    â€œThat information is confidential, Mr. DeLuca.”
    â€œThis,” he said, indicating her getup, “is very amusing but very dangerous. Where’s the other