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put him in the cab. ‘He’ll sleep well tonight.’
    ‘Yes,’ Juliana said, ‘and so shall I.’ She smiled at him again, and then took his hand to step up herself.
    Through her elegant gloves her fingers were slim and strong and he wondered how they would feel on his body. James Harrington had done well getting this woman to marry him. She was intelligent and warm and witty and he was sure that if she ever let her guard down she would be sensuous and sexual. He was still intrigued to find out more about James’fate – especially after the terrible things he had written in his letters – but that interest faded in comparison with his new need: the wooing of his widow. There had been a lot of women in Edward Kane’s life, but none before had intrigued him as much as the very English Juliana Harrington.
    He walked back to the hotel, enjoying the sound of the city’s streets, and then had an early dinner before retiring to his suite and examining Harrington’s letters again. He wondered how Juliana could have lived with someone going through what must have been fits of madness – what had her life been like then?
    When he finally extinguished the lights for the night he imagined his shy, reserved English friend and his wife in their marriage bed. Could James truly have satisfied her? As his mind wandered, his own body replaced Harrington’s, moving over the lovely Juliana and hearing her gasp as his mouth explored every inch of her pale perfection before sliding inside her. It was not long before he brought himself to a shuddering climax beneath the crisp sheets.
    He lay in the darkness for a while before sleep claimed him, and as he revisited the events of the day, he realised how much he was looking forward to seeing her again for dinner the next day. He thought of his dead friend, shy, sweet James Harrington, so clearly a troubled soul, and said a quiet prayer to him for forgiveness. However, he didn’t wait for an answer: Harrington had been dead a long time and life was for the living. As, indeed, was love.

7

London. January, 1897
Dr Bond
    Edward Kane was a charismatic man, I had to give him that, if a touch uncouth in that open way Americans could be. Young James had certainly taken to him, and before he went to bed there were piggyback rides and tales of cowboys and Indians and I could not help but envy how easy Kane found being around the boy.
    ‘Your turn, Uncle Thomas!’ James cried, breathless from his games. ‘Be my horse!’
    ‘I’m too old for that, young man,’ I said. ‘I fear my back is not what it once was.’
    ‘I don’t think mine is either!’ Edward got up and stretched. ‘I’m sure you’re heavier than you were yesterday, Sheriff.’
    James giggled at that and ran to Juliana who was wearing a fine wine-coloured dress I had not seen before. Her face, like her son’s, was brighter today, and when she smiled there was definitely the visible echo of the life that used to dance in it.
    ‘Your visit seems to be having a positive effect on Juliana,’ I said to Kane before we went in to dine. ‘Thank you for that.’ The last words sounded more proprietary than I had intended, but I could not shake my own dismay at the American’s presence. I had done a good job of burying the past, and now here was an old travelling companion of Harrington’s, disturbing the graves as he told us stories of their time together in Venice.
    ‘She’s a charming woman, and I’m glad my arrival has notcaused her too much pain. I hope I can only add to the good memories of her husband – from the short time I knew him.’ The sparkle that came so naturally to his hazel eyes faded and I noticed his jaw tighten slightly before he grinned again. ‘She seems very fond of you,’ he added.
    ‘We are very fond of each other,’ I answered a little mechanically, wondering what had caused that reaction. Did he know something of Harrington that he had not shared?
    ‘So I can see,’ he said.
    ‘Do come