“A man of means doesn’t rent a room above a china dealer in Saffron Hill.”
She considered the point. “I only wish my father would have listed the suspects. There’s a record of those he questioned at the market, but little else. So, your reason for suspecting Sir Melrose and Lord Newberry stems from their desperate need to purchase the journals?”
“My gut says both men are guilty of a crime.”
She had to agree, particularly in the case of Lord Newberry.
Silence ensued, and they continued studying the journals.
While musing over the text, a low hum left his lips. Heavens. It brought to mind the sweet sound of satisfaction when he found his release. Oh, he had looked magnificent then, so relaxed and untroubled.
“My father never spoke to you of his suspicions?” A pooling of heat between her thighs made it hard to sit still. Lust was the devil’s distraction. “I find that strange considering you were so close.”
His sigh, and the way he brushed his hand through his hair, told her he thought the same. “Atticus insisted on working with Proctor. In the interest of safety, those working on a case are sworn to secrecy.”
“I would have thought it safer if all members had access to the information. It is more difficult to murder eight men than two.”
“Even the most trustworthy men are open to temptation. Open to acts of betrayal.” His gaze roamed over her face. “It was a rule your father made. A rule that was supposed to protect lives.”
And yet both men working on the case were dead.
“May I ask how you came to find Mr Proctor’s body?”
Lucius sat back in the chair. “I received a note to meet him on Bishop’s Walk, Lambeth, near the church. A wall and an avenue of trees block the view of the path. I arrived at midnight as requested, found him slumped on the bank with a knife protruding from his chest.”
“Someone stabbed him?” Shock made her state the obvious. She winced, not wanting to imagine the harrowing scene. “Was he already dead?”
Lucius nodded. He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep sorrowful breath. “I pushed him into the river. What else could I do? Then I fled, fearing someone sought to frame me for his murder. It was the night your father died. I visited Proctor’s lodgings, looking for his notes on the case, but found nothing. Then I returned home and drank myself into oblivion.”
Despite the burning need to offer comfort, touching him would only rouse lustful thoughts. Lucius needed her help, needed her to focus.
“In his note, did Mr Proctor say why he wanted to meet you?”
“No. Only that he had discovered something important, something he thought I should know.”
“And you have no idea what?”
“No.”
“And why there?”
“He lived but a stone’s throw away on Stangate Street.” The perfect lines of his face twisted into a grimace. “Had I woken your father and informed him of what had occurred, had guilt not consumed me, had I not drowned my sorrows with brandy, I might have saved your father’s life.”
Shock, that there might be some truth to his words, that he could have prevented the tragedy, was swept away by logic and her growing love for this man.
“You don’t know that’s true, Lucius. Did you not heed my father’s advice? Did he not say that you can torture your mind with stories that have no basis in fact?”
He stared at her with grateful eyes, stared for the longest time.
The clatter of china preceded the arrival of Tomas carrying the tea tray. He set the tray down on the table, explained that Robert and Samuel had freed the carriage. He placed the plate of Shrewsbury biscuits next to Sybil, gave a nudge and a wink and urged her to try one.
“And Furnis delivered these to the Wild Hare this morning, sir.” Tomas handed Lucius a pile of letters. “Robert collected them a half hour ago.”
The man left them to their tea, and Sybil poured while Lucius broke the first seal and read the missive.
“An invitation to attend Mrs Crandall’s masquerade.” He screwed up the card, reached behind him and threw it into the fire. The next was a letter from Mr Warner, and Lucius blurted, “Damn fop. I’ve been instructed to make an appointment should I wish to visit the duke in future. We shall see about that.”
“I fear Mr Warner has suffered from a terrible lapse in judgement.”