for his help with a difficult lady, and soon afterward he was swamped with requests. When he explained the situation to the Guardians, Sir Henry had decided it was as good a cover as any for a spy, and besides, what better way to hear all the latest gossip about town?
“An introduction, do you mean?” asked Sir Henry now. “Surely you’re not that well acquainted with Gilfoyle?”
“No, no, not an introduction. In fact the young lady is well acquainted with Gilfoyle herself. It’s more that she wishes to attract his attention in a romantic way. In fact she imagines she wishes to marry him.” He ended with a serious note in his voice.
There was a moment’s silence as they all considered the possibilities. Horace Gilfoyle had been a man of interest to the Guardians for some time, for although he was from a respectable and wealthy family himself, he had a penchant for living on the edge of society and rubbing shoulders with rascals. They had been following his exploits and noting his friends and contacts. And of particular interest was the news that he’d been in Suffolk during one of the Captain riots.
“I take it this young lady is an unattractive piece?” Sir Henry’s eyes narrowed through the smoke, but there was a twinkle in them that made Richard uncomfortable. The other man had always been adept at reading his mind.
“No, she’s far from unattractive, but that isn’t the point, is it?” He hesitated but decided to keep his indecision to himself—it was none of their business that after a long night wrestling with his conscience, he wasn’t sure whether he could abet Miss Smythe in her plan to marry a man who might be a murderer. “I’ve accepted her commission. It will give me a chance to discover more about Gilfoyle. The lady’s brother is a longtime close friend of Gilfoyle’s, apparently, so she sees quite a bit of him.”
“So the brother may be of interest as well?”
“That’s a possibility.”
“Good. You may have some things to tell us the next time we meet, Richard. Gentlemen!” He looked about the table. “I think we are done.”
They began to leave, but catching a meaningful glance from Sir Henry, Richard lingered until they were alone.
“How long since you’ve been back to your home in Kent, Richard?” his superior asked in an even tone. “Your brother has been dead for years. The house is yours, is it not?”
“Yes, it is. My sister-in-law lives there.”
“And yet you stay away?”
“There’s nothing for me to go back for.”
“I understand how keenly you feel the need to find your brother’s killer, whether or not it was this Captain. But surely you don’t still blame yourself? Anthony knew what sort of work he was involved in. Just as we all do. You cannot blame yourself for what happened to him.”
“I have always believed I could have prevented his death. If I hadn’t fallen out with him. If I’d been there for him. He might have spoken to me—come to me for help.”
“Romantic nonsense. You were not your brother’s keeper!”
When Richard didn’t say any more, Sir Henry shrugged his burly shoulders. “Well, keep your secrets if you must. As long as you do your job. You must remember that the work we do here is far more important than any personal considerations, Richard. It is vital. Sometimes we are all that stands between order and anarchy. We are the guardians at the gates.”
“I will do my job, sir,” Richard said quietly. “I always do.”
Sir Henry nodded and finally released him. Outside, Richard took several deep breaths. He hadn’t planned to return to Kent. Not yet. Sir Henry was right; Richard had a promise to keep before he resumed his life as a country gentleman. He had to find Anthony’s murderer. He had to put the restless spirit of his brother to rest.
Chapter 4
Tina spent some time shopping before going to Number Five Jasmine Square to keep her appointment. Horace was holding a soiree on the following Saturday evening, and then he was taking a coachload of his particular friends to the theater. Tina was one of his particular friends, and she meant to make the most of the opportunity to put her husband-hunting plans in motion.
In short she needed something to wear that would catch his eye.
Horace was so complacent where she was concerned; he needed to be jolted out of that complacency. Tina wasn’t quite ready to invite him to her boudoir, but neither did she want him thinking of her as the little girl who had chastised him for stealing eggs from birds’ nests for his collection. Tina knew they were perfectly matched, and they would make a perfect couple. If he would just open his eyes and look at her afresh!
Then all her problems would be solved.
“Miss?”
With a sigh she shook her head at the roll of crushed velvet the hopeful shop assistant was displaying for her. It was no good. She couldn’t decide. A new dress was an expense she shouldn’t even be contemplating, but her father had insisted, and she hadn’t the heart to tell him she knew the truth. That her mother had told her in tearful whispers that the Smythe family was as close to penniless as made no difference.
This dress was probably the last new garment she would ever have, the last chance for Horace to see her in something new and pretty, at least until she married. But if she didn’t marry Horace, then she’d soon be going about in rags—matters at home were becoming desperate. So much was dependent upon a construction of cloth and thread that suddenly the dress assumed monumental proportions, and Tina felt she must get it right. She must. Her usual practical coolheadedness deserted her.
Feverishly her gaze darted from greens to blues to reds. Choose the right one and all would be well; choose the wrong one, and the Smythes would sink without trace into the murky mire of bankruptcy. She’d known a family that had happened to, a child who had been a friend of hers many years ago when Tina was young. One day that child was there, the next she and her family were gone in a gust of scandal, and Tina’s parents spoke of them in hushed tones.
Was that what would happen to Tina? Would she become the girl people spoke of in murmurs?