...Holmes cast me a sidelong glance. “I become a very wealthy man upon my wedding, and a wealthier one upon my father-in-law’s death. None of it will fall to Lord Stepney.”

“I assume Lord Stepney requires more than a competence to live as he wishes?” I tried to concentrate on the case rather than the heat of Holmes’ body next to mine, or the sensation of his gloved hand resting on my arm, so familiar and yet so strikingly new.

“He favors the finer things, possessing superb taste in art and literature. The former does not come cheap. He’s also noted for the excellence of his table and wine cellar. Again, not the habits of a man trying to economize.” Holmes led me past the fountain, toward the house with its sweeping colonnades. “He’s put it about he’s been lucky in some speculations on the ’Change, but Mycroft has found nothing, no indication of an investment showing a significant return.”

“So he turns to espionage to finance his pleasurable lifestyle.” Anger made me clench my jaw. “The bounder!”

“Quite. I find I despise traitors far more than spies. The latter at least is a patriot.” Holmes’ fingers tightened on my arm. “Ah, my fiancée has observed our approach and rushes to meet us. Behold, the fair Winnifred.”

Fair, indeed! Both in coloring and in form. I’ve never beheld a more beautiful girl. Her muslin and lace gown of blush and purest white only emphasized her delicate complexion. Long curls of the palest gold hung below her waist, the front pulled back with extravagant ribbons from a face of singular loveliness. Bright blue eyes, startling for their depth of color and clarity, gazed from her smooth oval countenance. Thick dark lashes contrasted with her dainty golden brows. Her tip-tilted nose and short upper lip added to the impression of utter femininity.

A sunny welcome spread her full-lipped mouth and she held out her hands to Holmes. “Sherlock! You’re back.”

He accepted her little fingers, taking them in both his hands, and favored her with a smile of surprising charisma. “As you see, Winnie. I told you’d I’d enjoy the walk back. Especially the greeting waiting at the end of it.”

Her whole face brightened. “Sherlock, you really can be the most charming man.” She turned to me. “And this must be Doctor Watson. I’m very fond of your tales, sir, but you failed to capture the lighter side of his nature.”

I glanced at my friend’s smiling face. “Perhaps it is the fault of the cases I’ve chronicled. There is little in them of the happier side of life.”

“True.” Holmes pulled her a bit closer. “Winnie, my dear, you’re quite right. This is my dear friend and chronicler, Doctor John Watson. Watson, do forgive me for not introducing you properly. My fiancée, the Honorable Winnifred Farnham.”

Miss Farnham cast him a look of long-suffering tolerance. “You also didn’t convey that Sherlock is the most horrid stickler for convention and propriety.”

I found myself laughing as I briefly took her hand. “Our cases often veer from such as well. I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Farnham.”

“And I you, sir. Without your literary efforts, I’d never have suspected Sherlock could be the sort of man I’d care for. I might have missed him the crowd.” She dimpled up at Holmes.

“I can’t say as I’ve ever thought of Holmes being missed in the crowd.” Thank God I’d never hidden my affection for him, else I might have found myself in an awkward moment as I glanced at him.

“Ha!” His explosion of laughter set loose butterflies in my stomach. He seemed more magnificent by the moment. “As you see, I am well loved.” He gazed down at her little face turned up to him in such animation. “As are you, Winnie.” To my amazement, he bent and pressed a lingering kiss on her smiling lips. His long arm crept about her waist, supporting her as he held her close. Then he opened his eyes and stared at me.

I barely saw her. Dearest God! His face! I’d never seen such a light in it or such contentment.

I shall simply pretend I’m kissing you when I’m with her. The words reverberated in my mind. They shone in his clear gaze.