"How dare you say it like that," she said sharply. Her eyes pinned him in place, flashing.

"How dare you think-" She couldn't go on. She had no words to express what she felt and anyway anger closed her throat. Her hands, now dropped to her sides, were clenched tightly. If Ryder had tried to touch her in that moment she would have driven one bloodless fist into his jaw and knocked him senseless. He came to his feet slowly, but he didn't approach her. He saw the intent in her posture all too clearly.

"It was like that then," he said.

"Not now."

"It doesn't matter. Your life was as precious then as it is today.

You were careless with it because you thought there was nothing to live for. Life is its own purpose, Ryder. It has meaning in and of itself." Tears glittered in her eyes.

"You must never love me so much as you loved your wife. I won't allow you. I won't-" His arms came around her. Mary struggled briefly, but he had her in a secure embrace and in the end she quieted and leaned limply against him.

"You have no say over how much I love or how well," he said, stroking her hair. Her damp cheek was pressed to his shirt.

"I would not want you to end your life because I was no longer in it,"

Mary whispered hoarsely.

"There would be no peace for me if that was a decision you could come to." Ryder kissed the crown of her head. He breathed deeply of the fragrance of her hair.

"Sweet Mary," he said softly.

"I would survive because I know you'd pass up the chance at heaven just to get even with me in hell." She raised her head and gave him a brilliant, if somewhat watery smile.

"No one knows me half so well as you." It didn't seem there was any point in discussing things further. They were only one hour out of Washington. There were better ways to pass the time.

Chapter Fourteen.

They agreed they should stay in a hotel. A day ago Mary would have insisted they see Wilson Stillwell immediately upon their arrival. In light of Ryder's disclosure, she was willing to wait. It was raining when they disembarked. They were clearly seen by two porters and the conductor as they left the private car.

Mary merely smiled as the Northeast employees watched them with some confusion, scratching their heads and then talking excitedly among themselves.

"We've been found out," Mary said. She hefted a valise in each hand while Ryder carried a trunk.

"Let's go before they rush to help us and ask more questions than we care to answer." Ryder flagged a hack just outside the station. He gave the driver the address of a boarding house he knew was suitable for Mary and reasonably priced. The funds loaned to them by Rennie and Jarret would go quickly if they weren't carefully managed. Mary leaned back on the cushioned seat of the hack and removed her bonnet. Water dripped from the brim and splashed the hem of her dress. She was grateful for the arm Ryder put around her shoulders to warm her. It seemed there was nothing colder than a rainy day in winter. Although the ride from the station to the boarding house was not overly long, Mary was drifting off to sleep by the time they arrived. Ryder paid the hack driver the fare and a little extra to help with the baggage so he could assist Mary.

The Monarch Hotel had a grander name than its appearance warranted.

It catered to boarders rather than overnight guests. The clientele appreciated the homey atmosphere which was really just deterioration of the furnishings and neglect of the structure over time. Not that the hotel was rundown. It was just that things weren't replaced or repaired quickly. The lobby was small, furnished with a few overstuffed chairs and an Oriental rug that was worn in the center and frayed at the edges. The clerk's large oak desk was polished but scarred and the potted plants that decorated the lobby's perimeter looked in need of watering. The book the clerk turned for Ryder to sign was a massive tome. It contained the signatures of some of the most famous and infamous politicians of the past forty years. Beside him, Ryder felt Mary shake off sleep as her curiosity was aroused by the registry.

"Later," he said.

"Mr. Stanley here will let you look. They're very proud of this book at the Monarch."

"Indeed we are." the clerk said. He adjusted the glasses on the tip of his nose and looked over the rims at the new guests.

"I didn't think you'd remember me, Mr. McKay. It's been a long time."

"A few years, Doc." Doc Stanley Wasn't a doctor at all and he had never professed to be one, but in his years at the Monarch he had often functioned as the house medical expert, pulling teeth when he had to, bandaging an injury, or setting a fracture. One guest had used the title in a half-joking manner, and it had stuck for the better part of forty years. Most people didn't know his Christian name any longer.

Doc turned the registry around, flipped through it quickly, and pointed to a line halfway down the page.

"Three years and four months," he said.

"There you have it. Not so long ago after all." Ryder looked at Mary.

"As you can see, Doc Stanley's memory is longer than mine. He remembers everything and everyone, and if he were the profiteering kind, he'd be a very rich man from what he knows." The clerk shrugged, scratching behind his ear.

"If I started blackmailing the boarders, who'd come around anymore? A man's got to have principles."

"Of course."

Ryder reached in his pocket.

"How much to be certain Senator Stillwell can't find me here if he learns I'm in town?"

"Twenty dollars." Ignoring Mary's small gasp of outrage, Ryder gave it over.

"Room three hundred," Doc Stanley said, palming the gold piece. He pointed to the stairs.

"Your bags and trunk will be right behind you." He gave Ryder the key to the room.

"Hope you--" The clerk hesitated, looking from Ryder to Mary to Ryder again.

"She's my wife," Ryder said dryly. He pointed to his notation in the register.

"Mr. and Mrs. McKay. Doc's cheeks reddened, but he didn't apologize to Mary for his mistake. It wouldn't be the first time someone had tried to pass off a lady friend as a wife.

"Well, I hope you and the missus enjoy your stay." Ryder linked his arm in Mary's and moved her out of the lobby before she gave the clerk the cutting edge of her sharp tongue.

"You really don't want to cause a scene."

"That man thought I was a whore."

"More likely he thought you were my mistress."

"That hardly makes it more palatable."

"It's not so terribly uncommon here." When Mary didn't reply, Ryder glanced at her and saw she was studying her left hand, turning it this way and that. When she became aware of his attention she let her hand drop quickly to her side and didn't offer an explanation of her actions or what she had been thinking.

They were already at the landing on the third floor so Ryder let it pass. He opened the door to their small suite of rooms and ushered Mary inside.

"Why don't you lie down and rest?" he suggested.

"I'll take care of our things when Doc brings them up. After that I need to go out and get a Washington paper and make a few inquiries."

Mary frowned. A nap sounded wonderful, but she was worried about Ryder's plan.

"Shouldn't I do that?" she asked.