Lucius grinned. It was good to see excitement dance in his eyes. “I shall relish the prospect of informing him of his blunder.” He threw that letter into the fire, too. “Damn,” he said upon scanning the next note. “It’s from Wycliff. I don’t know whether to curse or jump for joy.”
Whatever the reaction, Sybil was impressed by Mr Wycliff’s prompt response. “Does he have news from Mr Flannery?”
Lucius shook his head and laughed. “Wycliff knows how to make a man feel inadequate.”
“Trust me,” she said, smiling over the rim of her teacup. “There is nothing inadequate about you, Mr Daventry.” She spent a few seconds remembering just how competent he was. “What does Mr Wycliff say?”
“Only that Flannery gave him the address of a private club called Gorget’s Garrett. He said he’s meeting Flannery this afternoon and will have other information to impart. He invites us both to his house on Bruton Street tonight.”
“Then we shall attend.”
He pursed his lips and exhaled deeply. “I agreed to meet my mother in Brook Street at eight. It’s supposed to be a night of explanations. And I have a burning desire to know why she’s taken a room at the Black Swan.”
Perhaps his mother knew he owned the castle and merely wished to stay close while attempting a reunion. “Maybe I could call on the Wycliffs while you return to Brook Street. Then we will achieve both—”
“No.”
“No?”
“After Newberry’s threat to have you carted off to an asylum in the dead of night, I don’t want you venturing to town. Put the idea from your mind. It’s safer here. Safer if we remain together.”
“You forget, sir, that I do not respond well to orders.” She knew his assertiveness stemmed from fear—fear for her wellbeing. But if their relationship was to flourish, they had to work together.
He arched a brow. “Was it an order?”
“You might have phrased it differently. Not been so blunt.”
“Forgive me.” A smile played on his lips. The blue flecks in his eyes glistened. “I ask, I beg, that you remain by my side. I cannot lose you, Sybil. Not because of a promise made, but because I need you in my life.”
The words touched her heart. She couldn’t imagine a life without him, either. “Then we shall visit the Wycliffs together. You can leave a note with Bower asking your mother to meet you tomorrow.”
His smile broadened. “That’s settled then.”
“Yes.” As they stared at each other across the table, she knew his thoughts mirrored her own. Knew one kiss would lead to an afternoon spent in bed. “Let us return to the task at hand,” she said, repeating his earlier statement. “Tonight, I shall worship you in the way that makes your toes curl.”
“Minx,” he said, still watching her while he broke the seal on the last letter. “How is a man to concentrate when his mind is imagining all the delightful things you might do?”
His gaze dropped to the missive. He read a few lines, then his amused expression faded. Wearing a heavy frown, he studied the letter with a look of confusion, surprise, then elation.
Sybil fought the urge to ask a host of questions while she waited patiently for him to finish reading.
“It’s regarding the letters Atticus sent to India,” he eventually said. “This is addressed to your father from a Messrs. James & Sons solicitors in Guilford Street. Blake must have delivered it to Brook Street.”
“From a solicitor? Not from the man my father believed owned a share in the mine?”
“It simply says that Mr Dobson is deceased, that he died of a tropical fever eighteen months ago, and that any questions regarding his estate should be addressed to his cousin.” Lucius shook his head, laughed and uttered, “The conniving devil.”
“Who?” Sybil was almost out of her chair in anticipation.
“Newberry. Mr Dobson is cousin to Lord Newberry.”
They both sat in silence for a moment, absorbing the important revelation. She
had known Newberry was guilty of something. Why else would he offer such an extortionate sum when he lacked the mental capacity to understand scientific theories?
“Come. We’re going to town.” Lucius slapped the table and pushed out of the chair, but then hesitated. “Would you care to accompany me to town, Miss Atwood?”
“I would be delighted, Mr Daventry. What are your intentions?”