Page 72 of Solving Sophronia

The butler at Lord Everleigh’s house told them his master was out paying calls for the afternoon. When pressed, he admitted he’d heard the gentleman directing the carriage driver to take him to Lady Priscilla’s.

“I don’t like that,” Sergeant Lester said as they rode to Park Lane. “Don’t want that man with Lady Sophronia.”

Jonathan agreed fully, urging the driver to hurry. With Sophie’s name on the article, he didn’t trust any of the Casanovas with her.

When they arrived at Sophie’s house and inquired after Lord Everleigh, Holloway gave an angry huff.

The reaction was more emotion than Jonathan had ever seen in the proper servant.

“Lord Everleigh took the ladies away two hours ago, Detective.” His eyes tightened. “Said they were just going for a drive through the park.” He shook his head. “Very rude to keep the dowager Lady Mather out so long in all this heat, if you ask me.”

Lord Everleigh had taken Sophie’s sister and grandmother in his carriage? In spite of his feelings of hurt, Jonathan could not leave without warning Sophie.

“Is Lady Sophronia at home, Holloway?”

The butler blinked and folded his hands together. “I beg your pardon, Detective. I was not entirely clear. Lady Sophronia is with Lord Everleigh as well.”

A stone dropped in Jonathan’s gut as cold spread through him. “You say they’ve been gone for two hours?”

“If you can believe it. A ride in the park indeed.” Holloway frowned. “They should have returned an hour ago.”

“She knows,” Sergeant Lester said, his voice low and frightened.

Jonathan’s heartbeat banged in his ears. He rubbed his eyes. “Andhe knowsthat she knows.” Sophie must have figured it out. Of course she did. Why must that young woman be so blasted curious?

Sophie must have asked the wrong question, angered Lord Everleigh—angeredthe murderer—and now he had her. And based on his record, he wasn’t likely to send her home with a stern talking-to. Everleigh had no reason to keep her alive and every reason to want her dead.

Jonathan clutched Sergeant Lester’s arm as panic stole his thoughts. “Sergeant, where is she?” A murderer had Sophie—his Sophie—and he was helpless to save her.

Sergeant Lester winced. “We’ll find her, sir.”

“What’s this?” Holloway asked. “What’s happened to Lady Sophronia?”

“We can’t search the whole city,” Jonathan said, ignoring the butler. She’d already been gone for hours. Scenarios flashed through his mind, each more terrible than the one before. He darted a look at the door as if the answer would present itself. “Where would he take her?”

“Somewhere he wouldn’t be seen,” the sergeant said.

The men looked at one another, realizing at once where Sophie was.

“Quick, man!” Jonathan rushed for the door.

When they reached the police carriage, Sergeant Lester directed the driver to the station house.

“We haven’t the time,” Jonathan protested. The helpless feeling seizing his insides made him want to grab the reins himself and push the horses at a gallop. “Every moment she is with him—”

“Aye, sir.” Sergeant Lester pulled open the carriage door, standing aside. “But if you’ve taught me anything, it’s to follow procedure. We can’t barge in there without support—not with Lady Sophronia’s life on the line.”

Jonathan scrambled into the carriage, his jaw so tight it ached. “Sergeant—” His voice cracked, and he pushed away his panicked thoughts, knowing he needed a clear mind if he was to help Sophie, and knowing they could already be too late.

Chapter 22

Sophie looked around the burned-outroom in the old workhouse. Long tables had once stretched across the space, but now most were broken or burned. Some were overturned, and others were stacked haphazardly against the wall, leaving a wide aisle down the center of the room between the two doors. A few chairs were spread around as well, but Mimi sat in the only one that was still functional. She held Dorrit on her lap, stroking the dog’s fur to soothe the animal.

Light came from the gaping hole in the collapsed roof, filtering through dust particles and East London soot. The room was cast in an eerie gloom. Sophie had no way of judging the time, but she figured they had been at the worksite for over an hour.

Prissy stood in the center of the room, holding her skirts away from the burned furniture and walls and keeping her shoes away from the dirty puddles. She screeched whenever a rodent scampered past.

Lord Everleigh paced back and forth across one end of the room.

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