“And when she wasn’t looking, he took an impression of a key?”
“That seems most likely. No inspector called here or at Number 12.”
She frowned. “He’s a very…calculating man.”
“He’s clever.” After a moment of studying her face, Tristan said, “Added to that, he must be getting desperate. I’d like you to bear that in mind.”
She met his gaze, then smiled reassuringly. “Of course.”
The look he cast her as he rose to his feet looked more resigned than reassured.
“I saw the sign outside Number 16. That was quick.” She let her approval show in her face.
“Indeed. I’ve handed that aspect over to a gentleman by the name of Deverell. He’s Viscount Paignton.”
She opened her eyes wide. “Do you have any other…associates helping you?”
Sinking his hands into his pockets, the fire warm on his back, Tristan looked down into her face, into eyes that reflected an intelligence he knew better than to underestimate. “I have a small army working for me, as you know. Most of them, you’ll never meet, but there is one other who’s actively helping me—another part-owner of Number 12.”
“As is Deverell?” she asked.
He nodded. “The other gentleman is Charles St. Austell, Earl of Lostwithiel.”
“Lostwithiel?” She frowned. “I heard something about the last two earls dying in tragic circumstances…”
“They were his brothers. He was the third son and is now the earl.”
“Ah. And what is he helping you with?”
He explained about the meeting they’d hoped to have with Martinbury, and their disappointment. She heard him out in silence, watching his face. When he paused after explaining the agreement they’d made with Martinbury’s friend, she said, “You think he’s met with foul play.”
Not a question. His eyes on hers, he nodded. “Everything that was reported to me from York, everything his friend Carter said of him, painted Martinbury as a conscientious, reliable, honest man—not one to miss an appointment he’d taken care to confirm.” Again he hesitated, wondering how much he should tell her, then pushed aside his reluctance. “I’ve started checking the watchhouses for reported deaths, and Charles is checking the hospitals in case he was brought in alive, but then died.”
“He could still be alive, perhaps gravely injured, but without friends or connections in London…”
He considered the timing, then grimaced. “True—I’ll put some others onto checking that. However, given how long it’s been without any word from him, we need to check the dead. Unfortunately, that’s not the sort of search anyone but Charles and I, or one like us, can undertake.” He met her gaze. “Members of the nobility, especially ones with our background, can get answers, demand to see reports and records, that others simply can’t.”
“So I’ve noticed.” She sat back, considering him. “So you’ll be busy during the days. I spent today with the maids, searching every nook and cranny in Cedric’s workshop. We found various scraps and jottings which are now with Humphrey and Jeremy in the library. They’re still poring over the journals. Humphrey’s increasingly certain there ought to be more. He thinks there are sections—pieces of records—missing. Not torn out but written down somewhere else.”
“Hmm.” Tristan stroked Henrietta’s head with his boot, then glanced at Leonora. “What about Cedric’s bedchamber? Have you searched there yet?”
“Tomorrow. The maids will help—there’ll be five of us. If there’s anything there, I assure you we’ll find it.”
He nodded, mentally running down his list of matters he’d wanted to discuss with her. “Ah, yes.” He refocused on her face, caught her gaze. “I put the customary notice in the Gazette announcing our betrothal. It was in this morning’s edition.”
A subtle change came over her face; an expression he couldn’t quite place—resigned amusement?—invested her blue eyes.
“I was wondering when you were going to mention that.”
Suddenly, he wasn’t sure of the ground beneath his feet. He shrugged, his eyes still on hers. “It was just the usual thing. The expected thing.”
“Indeed, but you might have thought to warn me—that way, when my aunts descended in a swirl of congratulations a bare ten minutes before the first of a good two dozen callers, all wanting to congratulate me, I wouldn’t have been caught like a deer in a hunter’s sights.”
He held her gaze; for a moment, silence reigned. Then he winced. “My apologies. With Miss Timmins’s death and all the rest, it escaped my mind.”
She considered him, then inclined her head. Her lips weren’t quite straight. “Apology accepted. However, you do realize that, now the news is out, we’ll need to make the obligatory appearances?”
He stared down at her. “What appearances?”