The River Knows by Amanda Quick Page A

a little.
    She glowered. “You find my career amusing, sir?”
    “Astonishing would be a better word.” He paused. “My sister would be thrilled to meet you.”
    Louisa brightened. “She reads my work?”
    “Of course. But that is not the only reason why she would enjoy making your acquaintance. As it happens the two of you have a great deal in common.”
    “I don’t understand. Is your sister also a correspondent?”
    “No, but she is in a similar profession, one that, like yours, compels her to conceal her identity.”
    “What does she do?” Louisa asked eagerly. She had never encountered another woman who had also assumed a false identity.
    “She writes plays under the name E. G. Harris.”
    “I know her work.” Louisa was barely able to contain her excitement. “Her plays are staged at the Olympia Theater. The current one is Night on Sutton Lane . I went to see it last week. There are several thrilling sensations including the most astonishing scene of a ship sinking at sea.”
    “I’m aware of that.”
    “One believes the heroine must surely drown because she was involved in an illicit love affair, and everyone knows that illicit love affairs always come to bad ends in sensation dramas. Nevertheless, at the last minute a gentleman appears out of nowhere and saves her.” Louisa sighed. “Unfortunately, he is not Nigel, the man whom she loved.”
    “As I recall, Nigel was already married,” Anthony said.
    “Yes, but he didn’t know it, you see. He thought his wife was dead when she had actually been locked up in an asylum by her scheming brother.”
    “I assure you I have seen the play, Mrs. Bryce. There is no need to describe it.”
    She blushed, embarrassed. “Yes, of course.”
    Emma chuckled. “Louisa is a great fan of your sister’s plays, sir.”
    “So I see.” Anthony raised his brows. “It so happens that I have read some of your news reports, Mrs. Bryce.”
    “I’m surprised to hear you admit that you have read anything printed in the Flying Intelligencer .” But a little thrill of pleasure went through her. He had read her work.
    “The Intelligencer has two categories of readers,” he said dryly. “Those who will admit to reading it and those who will not admit to reading it. That is especially true since I. M. Phantom’s pieces began appearing. I offer you my sincere congratulations, Mrs. Bryce. You have managed to astound Society on a number of occasions with your revelations of scandal in high places.”
    She felt a sudden need to defend herself. “I am not interested in scandal solely because of the sensation it will cause. It is a desire to see justice prevail that motivates me, sir.”
    He cocked a quizzical brow. “Justice?”
    “Too often people who move in elevated social circles abuse their positions of privilege and power. They take advantage of those who are weaker than themselves knowing full well that it is unlikely that they will pay for their crimes.”
    “I see. You feel called upon to mete out justice by exposing such people?”
    “There is little else that can be done.” She widened her hands. “Everyone knows that it is virtually impossible for Scotland Yard to conduct an investigation in the Polite World. All the doors are closed, and there is no way to open them. You said yourself, there was no chance that the police would ever be able to search Hastings’s house.”
    “True. Nevertheless—”
    “Thanks to Emma I find myself in a unique position,” she continued. “I am able to circulate in some of the best social circles without calling attention to myself.”
    He glanced at Emma.
    Emma poured more tea. “It has been interesting, I must say.”
    “I wish to make it plain that I pride myself on accuracy,” Louisa said firmly. “I always investigate quite thoroughly before I write my reports. The last thing I want to do is cause pain or humiliation to an innocent person.”
    “Enough.” Anthony raised a hand, palm out. “I do not doubt