The Fruit of the Poisonous Tree: Stoker & Bash, #2 by Selina Kray

Author:Selina Kray
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical, mystery, Victorian, gay, romance, MM, paranormal, Gothic, gay romance, paranormal romance, historical romance, interracial romance, cult
Publisher: Selina Kray
Published: 2018-10-29T16:00:00+00:00

No sooner had Tim hopped off the omnibus at his usual stop than a pair of apple-cheeked girls accosted him. Fortunately he recognized them as the twin daughters and principal message-bearers of his new landlady, Mrs. Fitzgibbons.

“Mr. Stoker! Mr. Stoker!” they chirped in unison. They tended to ignore the fact he was a detective unless reporting a petty crime.

“Maisie, Molly,” he greeted in proper order. Not even their mother matched his success at telling them apart, much to their delight (and occasional disappointment). “What’s this clamor?”

“A gentleman’s come calling for you,” Maisie breathlessly explained.

“He’s caused ever so much fuss,” Molly elaborated.

Tim stilled. Unless a new client solicited his help—and none had ever done so here at his lodgings, preferring the luxury of Berkeley Square—Sir Hugh’s impatience had gotten the better of his reason.

“Has he now?” Tim offered them his arms out of courtliness but also to control their pace. He searched for signs of a carriage as they strolled down the block.

“Insisted on being let into your rooms,” Molly continued, no doubt parroting her mother.

“Turned up his nose at the parlor,” Maisie said.

“That’s just as well.” Tim stopped them again, his mind scrambling to prepare as he added, “Girls, those who come to visit me do so for very private, very sensitive reasons. Often when someone or something precious to them has been lost. So you must not think less of them if they don’t want a chat and a cuppa.”

The two of them bowed their heads, looking so serious Tim couldn’t help but chuckle. With a skip to his step, he led them on. They found their smiles.

“Is that why he wouldn’t take tea?” Maisie asked.

“Most likely. Though perhaps he didn’t want any.”

“And he brought in so many baskets?” Molly queried.

“He... what?”

“Mummy was quite beside herself,” Maisie, all of eight years, observed. “He asked so many questions her face grew hot.”

“Like when she used to help Simon with his maths,” Molly said.

Tim paused a third time, reevaluating.

“Questions, you say? Of what sort?”

“About everything!” Maisie stretched her arm wide to encompass the world. “The furniture and the blankets and the lights.”

“What we eat. How often you eat with us.”

“How many apartments are let. Who lives in ’em.”

“And about the walls.” Molly shook her head, still dismayed. “How thick they are. What’s on the other side.”

This prompted Tim to quicken his step, such that the girls had trouble keeping up.

An overgenerous reward from a previous client had permitted him to move from a clean but cramped lodging house in Pimlico to a larger, more respectable apartment in Kensington. As one of the first tenants to lease in the refurbished building, his comfort and contentment was of particular interest to the widowed Mrs. Fitzgibbons who, Tim soon realized, saw in him a potential second husband. That even someone as oblivious to the attentions of the fairer sex as Tim recognized her intentions spoke of how overzealous they were. Work, and a key to the back-alley exit, served him well.

Mrs. Fitzgibbons waited for

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