Page 72 of The Time for Love
Julia accepted that with a still-anxious murmur, but made no further comment.
Shortly afterward, with the teacups emptied and with their safety arranged to the best of their ability, the company rose and drifted into the front hall.
Julia left first, with Hector handing her into her carriage, then swinging up to ride beside the coachman, then Charlie and Oliver ambled off together, just two gentlemen returning from having dinner somewhere.
After Higginbotham closed the door, Lady Bracknell turned to Martin and Sophy and waved up the stairs. “Come along, you two. We’re going to have a busy day tomorrow, what with enlisting the aid of the police and interviewing thugs and whatever comes after that.”
CHAPTER12
Sophy fell in beside her grandmother as she ascended the stairs, and Martin dutifully climbed in their wake.
“I hope we learn our mystery man’s name.” Sophy stepped into the gallery. “I’m getting very tired of his games and would like nothing better than to put a permanent spoke in his wheel.”
The vengefulness in her voice made Martin very glad she would not be accompanying him to the police station.
He followed the ladies into the gallery. Higginbotham had told him the room he’d briefly used earlier had been prepared for his continued use. That room lay to the right, while Sophy and her indomitable grandmother were heading to the left.
Martin paused and called, “Goodnight, ladies. Pleasant dreams.”
Lady Bracknell glanced over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Martin.” Facing forward, she airily waved and continued walking. “We can meet over the breakfast table and plan our campaign.”
Martin smiled at her retreating back.
Sophy had paused to look back at him. She saw his smile and, in return, smiled conspiratorially. Then she dipped her head and followed her grandmother. “Goodnight.”
Martin watched her walk away. “Goodnight,” he echoed, then turned and walked in the opposite direction.
The room he’d been assigned lay at the end of the corridor, a handsome apartment with a large and doubtless comfortable bed. He walked in to find that twin lamps, perched on side tables to either side of the door, had been lit, casting a warm glow across the room. A small fire blazed cheerily in the hearth, before which two well-padded armchairs were angled.
His bag was neatly stored beside the tallboy to one side of the fireplace, and his comb and brushes had been laid out on the tallboy’s top.
He closed the door, hesitated, then turned down both lamps, leaving the room lit only by the flickering firelight, and crossed to the narrow window set in the wall on the far side of the bed.
He pushed aside the heavy curtain just enough to look out. As he’d expected, the window afforded him a good view of the street in front of the house. Looking to the west, he could see the dark bulk of St. James’s Church at the end of the street. Slowly, he scanned the pavements, working eastward from the church and continuing as far as the window allowed.
Not so much as a cat slinked through the shadows.
Good.
He watched for a few minutes, but there was no sign of any watchers. That meant that no one would have seen Charlie with Oliver, either. Martin let the curtain fall and turned back to the room.
Walking past the bed, he shrugged out of his coat and tossed the garment over the back of one of the chairs before the fire. He checked his bag, but the supplies Roland had packed—enough for several days—had been transferred and arranged in the tallboy’s drawers.
Martin turned away, taking mental stock.
He halted and frowned.
He’d expected to feel if not relaxed then at least more settled. They’d learned quite a bit about what was going on and had defined a clear path toward identifying who was responsible. They had actions they could take, and he knew what their next steps would be. While the outcome remained undecided, the possibility of learning who was behind Sophy’s problems was definite and real.
And yet he felt…unsettled. Restless.
He set his hands on his hips, hung his head, and thought over the events of the day. The drama, the action…
The conversation the thugs had interrupted in the shrubbery.
He pulled up those moments in his mind and replayed the exchange.
Can you see the vision?
